#Do I think the mom triangle was perfect?

[exodusin]

♱ — 𝕬𝖓 𝖚𝖓𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖍𝖞 𝖔𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𖤐 yandere!bill cipher x goth!reader ; MOSTLY triangle bill and some FEW human bill in some parts, human bill is based off this design, no twinkification of the nation, stalking, manipulation, gore, abuse, just overall out of pocket, there will be smut but it is consensual, NO NONCON we don’t do that here, reader’s personality is kind of based of Henrietta Biggle from South Park and Emily the Strange

TW; childhood trauma, bullying, abuse, torture, stalking, creepy ass behavior, manipulation

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

August 25, 2016 — Gravity Falls, Oregon

You and your best friend, Wendy Corduroy, were at the mini-store plazas in downtown Gravity Falls, looking for stuff for college. You were entering the art field, despite your mother's objections that you should study something more lucrative. But you didn't mind; just one year of arts wouldn't hurt. You wanted to pursue something you truly enjoyed.

You picked up a few goth band pins for your backpack: Siouxsie and The Banshees, The Cure, Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, etc.

"Dude! Tambry is back. It's been a while since we've seen her," Wendy said, showing you a recent text from Tambry about returning to Gravity Falls. You exhaled smoke from your lips and smiled.

"How's she doing? Did she mention anything about me?" you asked. Wendy shook her head. "Not yet, but hopefully she'll be excited to see us. I think she's still a bit... traumatized by the apocalypse."

"I think everyone is, but we cope with the 'Nevermind that!' thing... It kind of works for me," you said casually. It had been frightening to think about but knowing your abusive mom had been turned to stone made you feel slightly better.

Shaking off the thought, you continued walking and talking with Wendy. You both were headed to the Mystery Shack for work. Upon arrival, you clocked in and placed your backpack near your workspace.

"There you are!" You smiled at the familiar voice of Soos, the coolest manager ever, especially since Grunkle Stan retired in a way.

"Good news, dudettes! You two are getting a raise!" Soos announced.

You and Wendy looked at each other and grinned. "Wait, really?" Wendy asked excitedly.

"Of course! I understand college is a money grab, dudes," Soos chuckled. "Does $19 an hour work?"

"Better than okay, it's perfect!" you exclaimed. Tambry walked into the shack, her hair a bit longer this time, grinning when she saw both of you and Wendy.

"Guys!"

"Tambry!" You and Wendy exclaimed, giving each other a group hug, reminiscing about 2012.

"Purple-haired girl! Is it Tambry? Please correct me, dudes," Soos said as he joined the hug.

"You guys are crushing my bones..." Tambry groaned but chuckled.

"Now that we have a strong trinity of young ladies, I want you three to find something, anything that can attract tourists, as long as it isn't hazardous. Make something up, just like the old Stan ways!" Soos smiled. Tambry looked at him. "But I don't work for you?"

"Oh, come on! It's a good excuse for you three girls to have a night out and go on some sort of scavenger hunt."

"That feels like something Dipper and Mabel would do," you said, memories flooding back.

"Better get going now. Melody is making bomb enchiladas, and I don't want you dudes missing out."

"Bet, c’mon, let’s go see what this creepy-ass town has to offer," you said, grabbing your black trench coat with goth band patches, unaware of the reptilian slit on the moon watching you—only you—invisible to others, but you remained oblivious.

Oh, dearest

Oh, my dearest

[cameronspecial]

Gift Wrapping Fail

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.4K

Summary: Now, with a daughter, Y/N and Drew realized that their gift-wrapping skills need to be improved.

Masterlist

Y/N and Drew have been dating for years and in those years, any gift given between them was either horribly wrapped or given in a gift bag. It is no secret they aren’t great at embellishing gifts in paper, but with Millie now in their lives, they want to get better at the task to help give her picture-perfect holidays. After all, Santa Claus should be a master at gift wrapping. So the new parents set out to learn this skill for their daughter. At first, they try to do it without any help from the internet. “Okay. What do I do with the end parts?” Y/N asks Drew, who is also having the same problem. He shrugs, “I don’t know. There is so much of it.” She examines the paper for a second before folding the pieces into a triangle and then folding it upward onto the back of the box. Waves form in the paper so it isn’t taught and the sides of the box still have paper that overflows on the side. She sighs in discontent at the appearance. Drew holds up his box, which is also a disaster. “Maybe we should watch a video,” she suggests. Drew nods and pulls out his phone to look for one.

About thirty minutes later, Y/N is stuck in the wrapping paper and Drew has tape stuck in his hair. They didn’t know it was possible to be that bad at something for this to be the end result. Drew helps untangle her from the paper and she gets up to remove the tape from his hair. “Ow. Ow. Ow,” he complains as she pulls the tape off. She giggles, “Stop being a baby. We wouldn’t have this problem if you kept your hair away from the tape.” “You and I both know we have no idea how I got like this. But I think we can both agree that since Millie is only turning a year old, she won’t remember if her gifts are in bags,” he states. Y/N’s head flicks up and down, “Agreed. So we have more time to learn until she can actually remember or… We could just ask my mom to do it. She did say she missed bringing the Christmas magic to life.” “She did say that. I think this sounds like a solid plan. How about we go wake up Millie from her nap?” he questions. Y/N darts up from the floor running to her daughter’s room to be the first one Millie sees when she wakes up. Drew chuckles as he runs after her, “No fair! I want to wake her up.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Scars To Your Beautiful

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || Bucky and Reader exploring each other’s bodies, but not in a sexual way. Finding their different birthmarks, looking over each other’s scars and sharing stories behind them, running their hands over one another and just appreciating the feeling of the other person next to them.

Word Count || 1291

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Angst — brief mention of sex, talking about scars/injuries, talking about almost losing a finger (minimal gore), mention of Bucky’s traumatic past and his scar. Lots of sweet and tooth-rooting fluff as well.

Authors Note || This is for my lovely @sstan-hoe Valentine’s Day Event. I chose the prompt that’s mentioned in the summary. There are no [ ] in this fic!

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

TFATWS!Bucky Masterlist

After an evening of burning passion with your lover, you spent the rest of the night exploring each other’s bodies in a different way—gentle and loving touches and caresses.

For hours, you and Bucky could explore each other in a non-sexual way. It was like second nature to do so—a ritual after sex.

As you lay cuddled close and securely, gentle fingertips would run over naked skin, dotting down and memorizing each fleck and line that decorated the surface. You and he could spend forever tracing the patterns.

You gently poked the three small dots that formed a triangle on his upper abs. They were your favorite. The formation brought you comfort and security, knowing they would be constant and never-changing in your life—just as the man nuzzled close to you would be yours forever.

You explored lower. Running your fingertips down the ridges of his muscles in search of acquainted and new imperfections that were nothing but perfection to you. Bucky hummed above you, enjoying the gentle flow of your fingers.

He was busy with your other hand. Giving each knuckle and fingertip a soft kiss as he explored all the wonders of your hand.

He humphed in question as he seemed to become fixated on something on your pinky, running the pad of his finger on the inside of yours. His questioning sound caught your attention, and you broke your concentration from his body and looked up at his wondering face—eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ve kissed and touched your hand every day for years now, doll, and I’ve never seen this scar before.”

Although the line was small and nothing serious, he frowned at the realization that the injury must have been somewhat severe for it to leave a permanent mark. Bucky never liked when he discovered new scars on your body, knowing that you had been injured—accident or not.

“I think I was about five years old when I got it. For some reason, I thought I could make myself a sandwich without parental supervision. I’d seen my mom do it a thousand times, so I was sure I could handle it. But at the first cut of the bread, the knife slipped and almost decapitated my pinky.”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. It was like he could feel the pain of your injury that happened so many years ago.

“It was super gross. The tip was barely holding onto the rest of my finger, and there was so much blood.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He kissed the scar repeatedly before laying your palm over his beating heart.

“It’s ok,” you mumbled into him as you nuzzled your face into his side. His flesh arm pulled you closer and held you securely. “It was a long time ago.”

You and he were silent and nonmoving after that as you enjoyed each other's calm presence and the steady sound of your breathing. Bucky had his eyes closed, but you could tell that he wasn’t asleep yet.

You, on the other hand, examined another scar of his. A scar that wasn’t as well concealed as the rest of them. The one that molded flesh and machine together.

It was not a secret in your relationship how he received it. You’d been through thick and thin with him and knew all the painful and torturous tales of his past—the murderous assassin he was programmed to become.

The vibranium arm and the scar above never faced you at all. It was such a part of him that you never questioned it, and you always showed that part of him as much love as you did the rest of his perfect physique.

But you knew how painful that memory still was to him, the physical and mental aspect of it, despite having broken from his programming long ago and made amends to all the ones he’d hurt.

So you never touched it during one of these intimate sessions, in case he got uncomfortable that all the attention would be on that painful memory. But you always wanted to nurture the old wound and erase the memories of his torture.

While in deep thought, your hand acted on its own accord, and before you even knew what was happening, the pad of your finger hovered over the disfigurement before putting light pressure on the skin and tracing the scar from top to bottom.

Bucky’s previous relaxed and peaceful state turned tense and stiff—body becoming anxious. His eyes shot up while he jerked slightly at the touch.

You gasped and quickly retracted your hand and glanced at his face—clenched and unreadable. “I-I’m so sorry, Bucky.” You felt horrible that you had overstepped and started moving away from him in case he needed space. But his grip never loosened. In fact, he pulled you closer than pushing you away like you thought he would.

And that’s when you finally gazed into his crystal eyes. They held all the emotions—a wave of mixed feelings and thoughts.

Please don’t leave me.

Run. I’m not good for you.

I’m not a monster.

I’m a monster.

I don’t deserve you.

You can do better.

I’m ugly.

I love you.

His insecurities. His pain. His doubts. It broke your heart that he saw himself as worth nothing. That he thought he didn’t deserve love and light in his life.

“Please,” he pleaded—his voice breaking.

It was hard to decipher his tone—a mix of stay and run. But you would never leave him. Not when he needed your comfort and reassurance. Not ever.

“Oh, Bucky.”

You moved over to his other side. Away from his warm and pink flesh arm, to the cold metal one. Bucky let you go and kept his soft eyes on you. A hint of panic flashed through them that you may be running out on him.

You embraced the vibranium arm just the same as the other. The cool metal made chills run down your spine, but you didn’t mind the slight discomfort.

The pad of your finger hovered over his scar once more. But this time, you looked at him for confirmation.

He nodded.

You retraced the scar, top to bottom, making Bucky tremble slightly and exhale deeply. He tried to keep on a brave face, but the psychological pain and insecurities tinted his features.

“Oh, Bucky.” You leaned down and softly kissed the edge of his vibranium arm, lingering your lips on the cold surface. “I feel like you sometimes don’t see yourself the way I do.”

You trailed the kisses upwards, over his scar, up his neck, and peppered them underneath his jawline. He hummed in approval at your loving caresses and closed his eyes in delight—managing to relax his anxious form.

You cupped his cheek and made him keep his attention on you. You needed him to see how true your expression was. How sincere your words were.

“You are so beautiful. So beautiful in every way possible. You are so good. So pure-hearted. You are Bucky. You are my Bucky. My perfect Bucky. I know the pain is still there. The insecurities and guilt. But I’m here, Bucky. I’m always here, and I’m never leaving. I will be your rock and safety for as long as you want and need me.”

Bucky had no shame in hiding the few tears trailing down his cheeks. Although he always knew these words were your truest feelings towards him and not the cruel ones he had constructed in his mind, it was still a relief to hear you utter them so wholeheartedly.

“I will always need you, doll. I will always want you.”

“Good.” You leaned your forehead on his and wiped the tears away. “Because I’m never going anywhere.”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[fruvittea]

hi can u write an angsty love triangle with jake and jay from enhypen pls <3

whispers in the rain ✧˚ · . part one

— ✺ pairing: jay x reader x jake

— ✺ genre: slice of life, angst, suggestive, fluff, childhood best friend, love triangle, college au, slow burn

— ✺ synopsis: jay is your childhood best friend. that’s all he will ever be. a summer with jay and his friends changes how you feel for him when jake comes into your life. and jay begins to think that was a mistake.

— ✺ warnings: for this part none so far

— ✺ word count: 1.6k

— ✺ authors note! hi thank you so much for reading, this is my first fic with multiple parts that i will be writing hope you guys like it :)

part 1 | …

Ever since you bumped heads with Jay in the 3rd grade you two have been inseparable since. Both your mothers had thought you two would end up getting married. That is not the case. Friends are what you are and what you will remain to be. Jay has never shown any romantic feelings for you. As cold as he may seem to be, you never felt the possibility of him feeling more for you. After all, he dated girls left and right. And none of them were the one in his eyes.. So what made you think that you were? Having a long time crush on a friend can be exhausting and at some point it becomes embarrassing. So by the time you and Jay graduated that was when the feelings were stored deep away. Never to be seen again.

“You know you really should get out there…get to know some people.” Is what your friends would say. Telling you to not mope about Jay if you weren’t going to do anything about it.

They were right. But you were stubborn. Of course you weren’t going to do anything about your crush. But you didn’t want to let go of your feelings for him. There was just a sliver of hope left in you.

“Okay fine I’ll explore other options.” You lied.

That was two years ago. Now, you're in your 2nd year of college going into your 3rd. No significant other. Just pointless dates that never went anywhere. Jay on the other hand was thriving hundreds of miles away from you. You hated the fact that he occupied your mind every now and then. Every so often the two of you would talk on the phone, just to catch up. Nothing further. You two hadn’t seen each other since summer. And you did miss your best friend.

It was towards the end of finals. You were studying for the last one. Last one and then you were free. Eyes glued to the computer you focused on the endless number of lessons you missed.

ring ring ring

Turning towards your phone charging on the bed side table you noticed that Jay’s name was on the screen. Studying can wait. You picked up the phone bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, what are you doing for summer?”

“Nothing yet…why?”

“Come with me to the East Coast. You remember the beach house my parents own? I’m inviting a few friends to stay. I think you’ll like them. It’ll be for half the summer, maybe longer if we feel like it.”

Your eyes widened. “This is so sudden. I don’t know if I can. I mea-”

“My mom talked to yours’, she said you were free.”

You blinked. Of course she did. “Okay, well, then consider me there.”

“Perfect, see you then.” He hung up

You stretched your hands before continuing to type away. But the sudden invite did cause you to stray away from focusing on your studies. Who were the few other friends? When were you leaving? Where were you staying? This took over your mind. What a great way to distract you from studying.

next day

“So he just asked you to stay with him in the East Coast during the summer?”

“Yeah.”

“Just you two?”

“No.”

“Oh. Bummer.” You were telling your one (and only really) friend Amara. You two decided to go to the same college after graduation and have been close since.

“You’re still so hung up on him. Like why don’t you just confess. It’ll be good to get the rejection out of the way.” She said doing her school work.

You lifted your head from the desk. “Well it’s not that easy. And also rejection is the whole point. I don’t want to be even though I know I will be.”

“You needa figure this out. It’s been years. And when I say years I mean YEARS.”

You roll your eyes at your friend burning holes into your body as she stares you down. “Yeah.” You sigh. She’s right.

“Well, I’m leaving next week once I get back home.” You say continuing your work.

“Really? That sudden?”

“Yup, he texted me last night letting me know the extra details. He’s mentioned before that his family has a beach house and I’ve never been invited until today. It’s in Delaware, of all places.”

“Ohhh his daddy’s got money I see.”

You chuckle at her statement. “I am excited though.”

“Who knows things may change between you two. And for the better.”

“Mmm I highly doubt it, but a girl can only hope.”

“You gotta stop being so hard on yourself y/n, really.”

time skip

You wiped the hair out of your face as you got the last of your things together. Two carry ons and one large backpack. It didn’t seem like enough. But it was going to have to do. Besides, some shopping out there wouldn’t hurt. The screen of your phone lit up.

I’m here. The text was from Jay. He wanted to pick you up for your guy's flight.

As you were getting ready to haul everything to the car you heard the footsteps of your mom getting closer and closer. “Honey, you ready?”

“Yes, I am just about to load everything into the car.”

“You know I won’t be mad if something happens between you and Jay.”

“Mom, enough. It’s not like that.”

“You might say so, but I see how that boy looks at you.”

“Well you’re wrong. Can you please help me?” A second pair of footsteps came closer.

knock knock

“Hi Mrs. L/n. Hi y/n.” It was Jay. Did he hear the whole conversation between you and your mom? You cursed yourself silently as he came up to you engulfing you in a hug. His scent reaching your nose, intoxicating you.

“Wow, you smell good.” He said pulling away. His tone was almost nervous.

You try not to blush. “Thank you, I guess. I didn’t even put anything on yet. I was actually about to say the same for you.”

“There’s no need to for you.” The two of you stood there for a second, his eyes to the ground yours on him, before your mom cleared her throat. Indicating for you two to get moving.

“Oh right, I’ll take these, we’re going to be late.” He picked up the two carry ons, one in each hand, in a rushed manner.

“Have fun you two!” Your mom shouted from the driveway before Jay sped off in his car.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet. Something was on his mind you could tell. Glancing over to the man you noticed his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tight.

“So,” he broke the silence, “how have you been?”

“Oh, uh, I’ve been good, just tired from studying for finals.” You sigh.

“Tell me about it. But don’t worry our trip will take the weight off your shoulders. There are some people I’d like you to meet. I think you guys will click pretty well.”

You kept silent. Hopefully. You noticed from the corner of your eye him turning his head toward you a couple times.

“Hey, are you good, you’re pretty quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m good just tired, I woke up early to pack.”

He smiled. “Of course you did. Always been the same since high school.”

You lightly laughed before closing your eyes while he drove to the airport. Jay noticed your body slump. He gave you one last look before continuing to focus on the road.

“Y/n…Y/N. It’s time to wake up, I’ve already parked.” His voice so delicate as if he was trying to put you back to sleep. You opened your eyes, Jay’s face was inches from your trying to make sure you were going to wake up.

“Come on sleeping beauty, we gotta go.” You finally process where you are while getting out of the car. You both grab your stuff and head to the terminal. All of your belongings stacked up nicely into the cart, both tickets in your hand while Jay pushed the cart. The two of you made your way to the terminal after security.

“The gate is this way.” Jay walks ahead of you towards a group of young guys. You cautiously walk behind your friend. Meeting people has always been difficult, now meeting a group of guys? This was going to be a long trip. Jay turns around motioning for you to walk faster. Finally reaching the group of guys you made eye contact with the lot of them. They were all cute for lack of better words.

“These are my friends from college. Jungwon, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Niki, Heesung, and Jake.”

They all gave you a wave or smile, kindly introducing themselves to you. You took in the presence of the group fixating on- what was his name? Jake? He was pretty.

“So you’re y/n? Jay always talks about you, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jake.” The tall man makes his way to you reaching out his hand for you to shake it. His eyes meeting yours, there was a sort of sparkle to them. He seemed interesting.

“It’s nice to meet you too --all of you.” You smile trying to hide your nervousness. Suddenly the announcement for the flight surrounded the terminal.

“Okay shall we get on the plane?” Jay gave a smile before having everyone walk over.

“Jay switch with me, I wanna get to know Y/n more.” You heard Jake whisper to Jay. You could see Jay’s smirk from the corner of your eye.

“Okay, here ya go,” he exchanges the ticket with Jake.

You walk up past them a bit, acting oblivious to the conversation.

“Hey, y/n. Looks like we’re sitting next to each other.” He flashed his ticket to you with a smile on his face.

“Oh nice, we can get to know each other.” You smile back. You were hoping to sit with Jay but his pretty friend will do.

[ninapi]

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ A Perfect Circle ╝

Premise: When you like the guy who likes the guy that likes you, things get a little out of hand, when a triangle becomes a circle not just one gets hurt.

Word Count: 2266

Note/warning: in this series I'm going for a bit of punk Yamaguchi, even if it isn't cannon is just my personal favorite, lol. Also he's bi here, so you've been warned, while this is not full blown yaoi or anything of the sort it does have mention of feelings for the same sex. Nothing hardcore, reader is female.

Chapter 1: Midnight Kisses

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

College wasn’t easy, your time off was basically non-existent, if you had any it was mostly to complete your assignments or study for a test, that of course plus the time you had to spend in your part-time at a local coffee shop.

So when your classmate, friend and crush, asked you for help doing his hair, you had to call in sick and forgo sleeping the night before to finish an assignment just so you could hang out with him at his dorm, of course, he doesn’t know any of this.

Yamaguchi Tadashi sits beside you every Thursday in finance class. 

For a while, that was all there was to say about him being in your life, however, his shy demeanor and cool appearance managed to captivate your heart from day one.

The transition from classmates to friends was fairly painless, he was funny and smart, you enjoyed his company a lot and he did as well, you were caring, helpful and smarter than him, meaning you could help him study. Great foundations for a friendship, if it wasn’t for his stupidly good looking face and those cute freckles that don’t even let you go a night without dreaming of them.

Thinking of confessing was pretty much not an option though, as when you became friends you got to learn he’s had an all time one sided crush on his best friend since high school and that friend happened to be his own roommate.

And a guy.

While it did break your heart for a while, you noticed he did like girls after all, he was open minded and gender was not one of his concerns when choosing a partner. So it wasn’t all lost, at least not for you, one sided crushes get old, and if the right person for you comes to your life they can turn to dust. Or that’s what you told yourself at least, to find motivation.

Yamaguchi had invited you over to his dorm a couple of times already and you met this other guy before, while you could appreciate his good looks and how tall he was, he didn’t seem at all like the most lovable guy out there, they barely had a conversation and it was mostly one sided as well, just like their entire relationship. It did make you feel bad for him, but it also made your heart shine with hope. He didn’t seem so hard to defeat and Yamaguchi certainly deserved better than that.

You arrived earlier than expected to his apartment, ended up taking a taxi afraid of being late and Yamaguchi was still on his way back from school; his roommate opening the door for you.

“Um, hi! I’m Yamaguchi-kun’s friend, is he back already? I’m supposed to help him with something today.” the tall blonde just moved to the side of the door letting you into their shared small home.

“He’ll be home soon, stuck in traffic.” he just nodded towards the couch motioning for you to just sit there and wait like a good girl, quietly. But where’s the fun in that?

“Tsukishima-san right?” unwillingly he just nodded once more, unplugging the kettle from the wall.

“Tea?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Tsukki wasn’t used to this type of sunny smiles, while he does have women chasing his every step, he manages to kick them all away as fast as possible; none of them ever caught his eye nor made him want to even chat with them.

But this time was different. He’s heard a lot about you from Yamaguchi and he feels like he already knows you, as weird as that sounds, he didn’t feel uncomfortable around you and that was definitely new.

“I have some fancy fruit tea my mom brought the other day, would you like to try that or green tea is fine?” why was he even bringing this out? He hasn’t even thought of this damn tea for weeks, but now he was suddenly very aware of all the snacks around the house that girls might enjoy.

“Oh I love fruity tea!” a small smile crept over his face, one that could creep someone out if seen up close, but thankfully you didn’t notice. 

“It’s a berry one…is that fine?”

“Yeah that’s lovely, thank you! You’re nicer than I thought you were.” chuckling, you nervously played with the tips of your hair, while you knew you’d be safe with him, this was pretty much the first time you talked to one another and were completely alone in the house just the two of you at the moment.

“Oh? Nah, you got it right, I’m not nice…” sighing, Tsukki shook his head while preparing your tea, then he brought out a tin with cute looking cookies which were not his in the slightest, yet he set a few on a small plate and handed it over to you along with a steaming mug of delicious smelling goodness.

“I mean…just look at those cookies and fancy tea! If you weren’t nice you would have left me here on my own and stay in your room eating all this goodness by yourself.” you were so delightful, he didn’t even think it was possible for a girl to be this nice to be around. No obnoxious questions or loud laughter, no flirting. Your smiles seemed real, you were truly enjoying his treats and company, no insults were needed, he could get used to this even if that on its own was a terrifying thought.

“Alright you got me, just don’t tell anyone…would hurt my reputation...” he laughed quietly and this made you smile even more. He wasn’t as bad as you thought and that was an understatement, he was actually nice and you didn’t mind one bit sharing some of your time with him.

A little under thirty minutes passed before Yamaguchi finally arrived home. He came in panting heavily, his face red with excertion as he kicked his shoes off and ran inside. “(Y/N)?”

“Yams! I’m here in your kitchen!” confused, he walked over to where your voiced echoed from, and was welcomed by a rare sight, Tsukki was sitting next to you on the other stool, both of you holding a mug in between your hands and eating some cookies while talking about turtles. Why turtles though? What did he miss? Was Tsukki smiling just now? He had so many questions.

“Are those…my cookies…?” he let out a loud gasp, an evil looking smirk covering Tsukki’s face immediately. “Can’t give her just tea, you know…I don’t own cute food….” he wasn’t mad at him for giving away his cookies, not at all, in fact he was enjoying how cute you looked with that bunny shaped cookie pressed to your rosy lips, a great use of the cookies he won at the convenience store lottery. What threw him off a bit was that Tsukki had just taken them without asking first, is something he’s never done before at least not with things like that.

“I’m leaving, have practice.” he got up from the stool, though not without giving you a soft smile and a nod before doing so, a rare sight indeed.

“Yeah….um (Y/N) is staying for the night. I think I told you already, but that’s fine right?” a part of him wished he’d get angry, jealous even, he wanted him to look his way, to feel threatened by the lovely girl spending the night with him; and he unexpectedly did look jealous, quite a lot I would say, but not for the same reason he wanted to.

“Yeah it’s fine, I left the air mattress on the couch so she can sleep better there.” when Yamaguchi looked towards the couch the front door could be heard being closed shut as Tsukki left the apartment, startling you, yet what startled Yamaguchi wasn’t the  loud bang but the fact that Tsukki hadn’t just pulled out the air mattress for you, but also set up two pillows, sheets and a fluffy blanket, his fluffy warm beloved blanket, one not even Yamaguchi has gotten to touch before. Just what on earth did he miss?

Deciding on ignoring his friend’s confusing behavior he went back to you who immediately fed him a bunny cookie as to distract him from the entire ordeal, which earned a smile and a giggle from him.

“Thanks, I needed that. Sorry I came home so late I tried getting here faster but the traffic was awful..”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have to wait for long and that tea was lovely~

So what did you need my help with?”

Yamaguchi’s hair has been getting longer and he wanted to do something fun with it before he had to cut it all off for his internship next year, “Oh yeah! Can you help me bleach the underside of my hair? I suck at it…”

“Sure! Just bleach? Or are you going to color it too?” Yamaguchi truly enjoyed the simplicity of this conversation. It was always like this with you, everything was so warm and cozy, lots of laughs and lingering looks, it felt different for some reason, like the entire opposite of the way how Tsukki is with him, he felt wanted.

“Just bleach for now. I think it’ll look cool. I also have been browsing online for tattoo artists, wanted your opinion with that too.” It’s been in his mind lately how he wanted to do something liberating, something that would mark a milestone, the day he decides to move on from Tsukki, to finally confront reality and be with someone who truly appreciates him and wants to be by his side, romantically, hopefully that person would be you.

“Oh show me, show me! Do you have an idea of what you want already?” scooting closer to him, you looked like a cute little girl trying to look at his screen, it was endearing, made him want to squish your face and made his heart skip a beat or two at the closeness.

“Just some lettering…though still not sure what I want it to say…maybe on my wrist, something I could cover if I wear long sleeves.”

“Oh this one looks nice!” the picture featured stylized lettering with butterflies on top of some letters of the word to accentuate the fancy turns and swishes, making it look like a fairytale title in some book. “Shall we get matching tattoos? It’s such a pretty style!”

This made Yamaguchi blush, his heart fluttering, while he hated the idea of matching tattoos within couples, it was such a pure hearted request it made him smile at the thought of sharing something like this with you.

“You mean like the very same phrase or like you have one half and I have the other?” 

“I was thinking of the first one but I must admit the second one sounds even more cute.” you were blushing too, both of you were sporting a lovely pinkish skin tone, as you both smiled at each other like fools.

“Then lets do it! How about the lyrics of a song we both like? Would be more meaningful and only us two would know what is it about.” this was exciting, you honestly didn’t think he’d say yes, that’s usually reserved for couples, but you weren’t going to complain, is what you wanted after all.

You spent the entire night listening to your favorite bands and taking notes on phrases you both would find meaningful or interesting, eating some pizza and laughing at each other’s silliness until both ended up falling asleep on top of each other on the couch after his hair was done. 

Yamaguchi opened his eyes first and noticed how you were dozing off on his shoulder. Your hand was fisting the side of his shirt while you nuzzled his arm like a cute tiny kitten. Made him want to kiss you, and that wasn’t normal for him. Since he remembers he’s only liked Tsukki, only wanted to kiss him, only wanted him. But you were making his heart burst every few seconds and you made him feel excited about the littlest things, life was brighter, happier, it was something he didn’t want to loose next semester if you end up in different classes. He wanted to move on with his life, to bring you as much happiness as you brought for him.

Unconsciously, he leaned closer and closer until your faces were only inches away, his nose pressed to yours, as he glanced down at you with a loving gaze.

His nose tickled yours and made you stir, though having him this close meant this was certainly a dream right? Why else would he be at a kissing distance? For sure a dream, so why not enjoy it…?...closing the short distance, you pressed your lips to his and he kissed you back right away without hesitating. It was a soft kiss, loving, tender, yet quite intense; lips molding with each other, hands gripping clothing and hair, cute mewls and little moans leaving each other’s lips every few seconds. In all truth you have no idea how long this kiss was, but as soon as the kitchen clock announced midnight, a loud horrified gasp and the front door slamming shut could be heard, Tsukki had come back from practice a bit latter than expected tonight and had witnessed the tail end of the passionate encounter.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

Masterlist Next Chapter

[crazychaoticizzy]

TRACK 2: The Bends

Following their high school careers, the original five in the band Heart Attack begin rising through the ranks. Despite their slow ascent to success, they make it in the end. Even with everything that went wrong.

EREN X READER X JEAN

CONTENT: multipart fic, rock band au, slow burn (I mean it), love triangle, angst, mentions of drinking, violence, blood, mentions of guns, major character death

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

series masterlist

AOT masterlist

<< previous part

EREN: I brought it up in my mom’s garage when we were all freshmen, I think. We were all playing a game together and Mikasa came in. I wanted to do it then because all of us were there, and it had been forever since we’d all been in the same spot so when would we get that chance again?

Armin, I remember, seemed super reluctant. I don’t know if money was a problem though, or if he genuinely didn’t want to do it. I never found out, either.

ARMIN: Yeah, I wanted to do it, it sounded fun. But as a hobby. I didn’t want to do it often. Eren wanted to turn it into a career, and . . . I just couldn’t do that.

JEAN: The problem with the idea was we were all dirt poor. Eren was the only one living with a family that wasn’t working their asses off to make ends meet or living paycheck to paycheck because his dad was a doctor.

ARMIN: We brought that up. I told him, “Not everyone can do what they want on a whim.” It was the end of that conversation, but on my sixteenth birthday a week later, Eren had rented me an acoustic guitar.

CONNIE: After that, we all knew that we were doing this, whether we wanted to or not.

Armin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He hated this. He hated coming to Eren’s house every single day when he could be working and trying to help his grandfather get out of debt.

Eren was explaining how to play the chords to him (since when did he know how to play?), but Armin wasn’t listening. He stared at Eren’s hands with an absent expression as they moved, switching dates he could work around in his head and running through the long list of assignments due in his mind.

He swore he was going to die of stress before he even turned eighteen.

“Dude, if I’m boring you just say that.”

Armin hummed, moving his gaze to Eren’s face and the teasing smile that played on his lips. “What?”

“You’re spacing out. Didn’t know I was that uninteresting.”

Armin took a moment to process Eren’s words before shaking his head. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh.” Eren dropped his hands from the guitar’s neck. “Something wrong?”

Armin shook his head, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “Just tired.”

The day before had been one of the rare days where Armin didn’t need to be at Eren’s house. He’d worked the entire afternoon, switching jobs at about 6:30 before going home after midnight.

But after he returned home he remembered the pile of class work he needed to catch up on and ended up passing out at his desk without making a dent in it.

His days had started blurring together. He couldn’t remember anything taught in class and his reaction time to things was getting slower and slower the longer he went without sleep.

He hated everything.

“Do you need help with your work? I could do it for you.” Eren put the guitar to the side, leaning closer to Armin.

Armin took a second to respond before shaking his head. “No. I don’t want your failing ass to tarnish my perfect grade.”

“Well that perfect grade is gonna get bad at the rate you’re doing things anyway.” Eren paused. “Sorry.”

Armin waved him off. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.” He groaned and laid back on the concrete floor. It was cold, and Armin thought this must have been the best thing to ever happen to him.

He let his eyes close for a minute. Or two. He wanted to sleep, and at that moment nothing could have felt more comfortable than the hard floor beneath him.

Eren shoved Armin’s arm, making him hum in irritation and open his eyes. Armin turned his head, finding that Eren was now lying beside him.

“What?”

“I’m serious, Armin. Do you need help? Even if I’m not the one to do it, I’m sure one of the guys would be happy to.”

Armin shook his head, waving Eren off. “It’s fine. I’ve been thinking about dropping out anyway.”

“What?” Eren sat up, hands squeezing his knees as he looked down at Armin. “Why?”

“It’s just too much. My grandpa’s behind on payments and he got an eviction notice the other day. He tried hiding it, but you know him.”

Eren nodded. He knew that Thomas Arlert was holding onto the last strands of health he had for Armin’s sake. The old man tended to have things slip from his mind easily, so what likely happened was that Thomas hid the eviction notice and forgot where he’d placed it, making him ask Armin without thinking.

“We can help you guys out.”

Armin shakes his head. “We’re fine, Eren. I have it under control.”

What Eren wanted to tell Armin was that he shouldn’t need to have it under control. He wanted to tell Armin that he should be living, not struggling to scrape by. He wanted to tell Armin that he didn’t need to do everything by himself.

But Eren had said all those things before, in one way or another. Some of them he had said more than once. But every single time, Armin shot him down. It was clear to Eren that Armin didn’t want help.

That never stopped him from offering, though.

“Okay. But if you ever need help you know we’ll help you.”

Armin hummed in acknowledgement, closing his eyes again. Eren didn’t say anything else. Instead, he got up to put the guitar back in its box and left Armin on the floor. Eren walked into his house to retrieve a thin blanket, walking back out to gently place it over Armin’s sleeping form.

Eren walked back into his house, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he propped open the garage door and sat at the dining room table. He could see Armin’s golden hair from where he sat, and he held his phone up to his ear as it rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Armin’s thinking about dropping out.”

Jean was silent on the other line. “What?”

Eren made a sound of affirmation. “He said he and his grandpa are about to get evicted.”

Eren heard Jean silently curse. He heard the rustling of blankets and another questioning voice that sounded suspiciously like Marco. “Is he seriously thinking about doing that? What about wanting to be valedictorian?”

Eren shrugged as if Jean could see him. “I don’t know, Jean. But he’s on the brink of failing anyway, so I don’t think he’d reach that goal even if he stayed in school.”

Jean huffed. Eren heard more rustling and the soft clanking of metal. “Alright. I’ll call Connie. See if we can scrape something together to help out.”

Eren nodded. He didn’t say anything else for a moment, just listening to the soft shuffling around coming from Jean’s end. Again, he heard a voice that sounded a lot like Marco’s, but he didn't comment on it. Something inside of him always said they were more than friends.

Jean’s voice finally came through again. “Okay, I’ll call Connie now.”

“Okay.”

The call fell silent. Eren expected Jean to hang up, but when he didn’t, he lowered his phone to press the red button before Jean spoke again.

“Armin’s gonna be okay, okay? We’re all gonna be okay.”

Eren nodded. “I hope so.”

Another moment of silence followed before it became so suffocating Eren had to hang up. He sighed, standing up from the table and walking up the stairs to retrieve his headphones from his room.

He got a text from Marco moments later. Marco had sent multiple photos of his schoolwork for Eren to copy down onto Armin’s papers. After digging through his bag, Eren found the assignments organized neatly in a folder and started copying everything down.

While he was at it, he tried to improve his own grades.

—

Armin dropped out two months later

He didn’t tell anyone. He simply stopped showing up to school. He stopped going over to Eren’s house, and he tried his absolute best to avoid everyone.

He didn’t want them to be disappointed, especially after they had done so much to help him.

The Arlert’s finances were better. They were no longer living paycheck to paycheck or were behind on any payments, but at what cost? Armin spent all of his free time working, picking up whatever hours he could at his three jobs and accepting the occasional offer of whatever people needed him to do in exchange for money. He had no more social life and no time for himself. When he wasn’t working, he was sleeping.

It seemed like he had completely abandoned his friends. But one day, a warm Tuesday in the summer when his schedules aligned perfectly and he didn’t have work, he walked to Eren’s house. He followed the sound of music playing and found that there were people gathered around the open garage.

Connie, as excited and energetic as ever, smacked his wooden sticks against the drums, keeping the time by tapping his foot against the floor. Marco’s hands moved across the keyboard, occasionally switching a couple knobs at the top to change the sound. Armin watched Jean’s fingers move across the fingerboard of his guitar with ease, and he watched Eren’s lips move centimeters from the microphone.

They sounded good. Maybe not hit material, like The Beatles or Queen, but they had the right sound. They kept the same consistent, obvious beat and overlaid their own tracks over it. They were in tune, and surprisingly were all working well together.

Armin stayed to the side. He stood behind most of those gathered around and just listened to the music flooding down the street, so loud you could probably hear it a few blocks over.

When they finally stopped, they were all sweating. Eren smiled out at the people watching and bowed dramatically as sweat dripped from his chin. Jean heaved heavy breaths beside him, turning to Marco to flash his teeth with a look that said, We can actually do this.

Armin couldn’t help the soft smile that stretched across his lips. He clapped with everyone else, watching as his friends began unplugging the amps and speakers and everyone else began to walk away one by one, a few dropping coins or bills into an open guitar case.

When Eren finally noticed Armin standing there, a wide grin crossed his face. He let go of the mic, which would have fallen to the ground if Jean hadn’t caught it by the stand, and sprinted across the driveway to Armin. Eren knocked into him with so much force it almost pushed them to the ground, but he didn’t care because it felt like Eren hadn’t seen Armin in forever.

They stayed like that for a moment. Eren practically squeezed the life out of Armin before Jean yelled, “Get a move on, loser. You’re not the only one that missed Armin.”

“Fuck off, Jean.” Eren gave one last squeeze before releasing the blond. Eren flashed him one last smile before he went back up the driveway. Armin followed suit, looking around at the set up they had.

There were actual drums now. It was no longer just boxes placed on sticks for Connie to practice hitting, there were drums. The guitars were different, too. Jean had a sleek black bass with a dark red strap instead of the acoustic guitar he shared with Armin, and Marco had a proper set up for his keyboard.

Armin’s lips tilted up. He liked seeing this. He liked seeing that even if he wasn’t there, everyone still continued with what they wanted.

He was glad to know his absence wouldn’t be an obstacle, because he was sure he would never be able to join them.

Armin turned his head when Connie held something out to him, his lips curved up in a smile that showed all of his teeth. When Armin looked down at his hand, he saw that Connie was holding out an instrument case.

Armin’s brows furrowed as Connie bent over to leave it at Armin’s feet. Armin kneeled beside Connie and unlatched the locks, opening the case to reveal a vintage Gibson SG. Armin’s jaw fell open, and he stared at the cherry stain of the wood.

“We found it at a thrift store,” Marco said. He walked over, kneeling down beside Connie. “It was a crazy markdown. Only like thirty bucks, I think. We looked online and found a lot for over a thousand dollars. Isn’t that crazy?”

Armin nodded. He closed his mouth and looked up at Marco. “Who’s it for?”

“It’s for you.”

Armin blinked, registering Marco’s words. “What? No, I-I’m not part of this. This is all you guys.”

“You want to be in the band with us though, right?” Connie asked. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning forward. “You can't be in the band if you don’t play an instrument or something, and everyone knows you can’t sing.”

Armin let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t, guys. You know how busy I am.”

“We aren’t doing this without you.” Eren plopped himself on the ground beside Armin, aggressively hitting Armin’s shoulder. “This is all of our thing. We do this together. Right, Jean?”

“Huh?” Jean looked up from his phone, still tapping at it as he looked at where everyone was gathered on the floor. “What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Last time I said yes I was pinned to the floor and Connie drew two dicks pointing at each other like guns on my forehead. With Sharpie.”

They laughed, and Armin felt out of place. He didn’t remember that happening, so it must have been recently.

“The point is”—Eren turned his attention back to Armin—“you’re part of this. We started this with you and we’ll be damned if you aren’t there with us when we keep going.”

Eren took Armin by the hand, intertwining their fingers and giving it a firm squeeze. And then Connie took Armin’s other hand, doing the same thing. And then Marco reached over and squeezed Armin’s knee. Jean, of course, was not paying attention until Eren threw a stray pen at his head and forced him to kneel beside them and squeeze Armin’s shoulder.

“It’s the five of us, guys.” Connie smiled, looking up to meet each of their gazes. “Now, until we’re too old to be jumping around on stage, promise?”

Eren squeezed Armin’s hand tighter, as if doing so would pass the unspoken message along to Connie. “Promise. We’re Heart Attack, right?”

That was new, too. Last Armin knew, the band didn’t have a designated name. It had barely been two months since he stopped showing up and already it felt like so much had changed.

Jean squeezed Armin’s shoulder tighter, reaching over with his other hand to squeeze Marco’s. “We’re gonna be the best fucking rock band in the world. The best of the century.”

If only it were that easy.

—

CONNIE: Man, I could not tell you what happened those last few years before we moved. I don’t think anyone can, actually. I just remember that it was stressful as hell.

JEAN: We didn’t really do much. We were still in school and starting tog eat our first jobs, so we were mostly trying to balance everything out without looking like zombies.

EREN: We moved to Berlin almost right out of high school. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but I don’t regret any of it.

“Do you guys really think we’ll make it?” Jean asked, laying back on the hotel bed with his arms crossed behind his head. “I mean, we’ve been living in this hotel for like a week and a half.”

“It’ll come,” Eren said. He scrolled through the different channels on the TV, eventually stopping on an American program. “We just need time. We need to find jobs that’ll keep us afloat for a bit. And then we’ll start our gigs up again.”

“Well if we don’t find somewhere soon our instruments are gonna get ruined in the van.”

They fell silent, the only sound being the water from the shower head in the bathroom.

Eren looked around for spots where they could put their instruments and equipment, but didn’t find a single empty space. The room was too crowded with all of their suitcases, and even if they didn’t have their own luggage there was no space big enough to put much.

“We’ll find a place,” Marco said. “We can start looking tomorrow. Surely there’s an apartment or something available for rent, right?”

Jean blew air out from his mouth. “I hope so.”

They were silent the rest of the night. They took their turns showering after Connie and started winding down. The TV still silently played, though the channel had been changed as each person took control of the remote.

It was half past midnight when Armin came into the room, his hair disheveled and his eyes tired from work. His black polo was untucked and one of his pockets turned out when he reached in it to grab something.

He brought out a piece of paper so folded it took him a moment to open it. When he did, he walked between the beds, careful not to step on Eren, and flicked on a light.

“Dude, it is past midnight. Turn that off,” Jean complained, pulling the blankets over his head.

“You weren’t sleeping anyway.” Armin whispered, careful not to wake Connie or Marco up. He kicked off his shoes and sat on the other bed with his legs crossed. “But look at this.”

He held the paper out. Jean stared at Armin with dead eyes before Eren reached up from his place on the floor and yanked it out of his hold. Eren held it up as he read it, holding it in the light so he could see.

“Live music performances?” Eren looked up at Armin as he nodded. “At Quasimodo? I thought they only did booked gigs with bigger artists.”

“They want to try something different. Apparently a few record companies approached them and asked them to do this,” Armin explained. He stood up from the bed and walked across the room to his suitcase, kneeling down to grab a change of clothes. “From what I overheard, these labels are looking for the next big thing. They want something new because people are getting tired of hearing the same music. It’s in a month or so, but they want to start getting people now.”

Eren nodded as Armin grabbed a bag and his glasses and stepped into the bathroom. The sound of water hitting the wall soon filled the room as Eren sat up and leaned against the bed.

“This is a terrible idea,” Jean said. Eren looked up from the paper. “I mean, yeah it’ll give us more recognition, but Quasimodo is a jazz bar or something like that. People don’t go there to hear what we do.”

“But if it’s an open night then people should be expecting all kinds of music anyway,” Eren countered. He set the paper to the side, laying back down. “People will give us a chance. We just have to take it.”

Jean exhaled, closing his eyes and turning over. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

It was completely silent moments later, save for the muffled sound of Armin’s shower.

Eren couldn’t take it. He put his AirPods back in his ears and laid back down, pressing play on his phone before closing his eyes and trying to drift off.

When Armin walked back into the room, his hair damp and falling in his eyes, everyone had fallen asleep. He tiptoed around Eren, cautious not to make any noise, and slipped under the covers beside Connie. He reached over to flick off the light, checking his phone once more before turning over and going to sleep.

Thomas hadn’t texted or called since Armin moved. Of course, Carla checked in on him daily and gave Armin updates, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to hear from his grandfather himself that he was doing fine.

Armin fell asleep hours later, his mind haunted with thoughts of how his grandfather was doing.

—

You joined Heart Attack in Berlin early on. Did they ask you to?

MIKASA: No, actually. Well, some of them wanted me to come along if I wanted, but I remember Eren called me one night and said very clearly, “You shouldn’t throw your life away just to follow us. There are better things for you in Shiganshina.” He kind of put a lot of emphasis on the fact that he didn’t really want me to follow, even if he didn’t explicitly say it.

I thought about it a lot. I talked to my mom about it and she just told me to do what I wanted. She said she had the store under control and that I didn’t need to worry about keeping it afloat, because that was the reason I had been so hesitant. A couple weeks after they had moved, I followed.

When Mikasa knocked on the door, Armin was the one that answered.

He wore a white T-shirt and blue pajama pants that made Mikasa think he had just gotten out of bed. His blond hair was touseled and he wore his glasses. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he greeted Mikasa, not quite registering who it was until she pushed her bangs out of her face.

“Mikasa? I thought you were staying in Shiganshina.” Armin leaned against the doorframe, resting his head against it and crossing his arms.

Mikasa shrugged. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms as well, fidgeting with one of her backpack straps. “Well, I never really decided, but I wanted to come here with you guys.”

Armin slowly nodded. He glanced over Mikasa, taking in her pulled back hair and the way she kept shifting her weight like she had done something she wasn’t supposed to.

He thought about Eren for a moment, and how he might react when he saw that Mikasa had traveled the two hours from Shiganshina to join them. He knew that Eren wanted her to stay in Shiganshina—he claimed it was because Mikasa would have a better life there, but Armin thought it was more for his own benefit.

He straightened himself, opening the door wider. “Sorry. I’ve just been standing here. Uhm, do you want to come in?”

Mikasa nodded, quietly thanking Armin as she grabbed her suitcase by the handle and stepped into the apartment.

She looked around as Armin closed the door behind her. It seemed like he was the only one home, based on how quiet it was.

There was no furniture. Well, there was, but the only pieces were a table and three chairs. Majority of the space was taken up by Connie’s drums and Marco’s keyboard. Jean and Armin’s instruments were packed away in their cases and set to the side.

Mikasa raised an eyebrow in question and looked at Armin, who was locking the door. “No furniture?”

Armin hummed, looking at her and then their living room. “Yeah, we, uh, we can’t really afford a lot. But we have a table? You can put your stuff there.”

Mikasa slowly nodded, letting out a soft laugh. She moved her suitcase beside the table leg and shrugged off her backpack.

“Are you hungry or something? We have cereal, probably.” As Armin spoke he moved around the table and started opening cabinets and the fridge, listing off a few items. “I can make you a sandwich, or leftover pizza. A salad, maybe? I don’t know what we have.”

Mikasa shook her head. “No, I’m alright. Where’s everyone else?”

Armin shut the fridge door and leaned against it. “Work. They all have morning or day shifts.”

Mikasa nodded again. The two of them exchanged awkward questions that only required a short answer for five minutes before they finally got back into their old groove. By the time Jean, the first to get off his shift, had come home, Armin and Mikasa were seated at the dinghy wooden table and laughing.

Jean was followed by Marco an hour later, and Connie thirty minutes after that. They moved to the floor where the five of them sat in a circle with cold leftover pizza from the fridge until Eren came home.

And when he did, the wave of annoyance that washed over him was clear.

It wasn’t obvious or boisterous, but the way his grip tightened on the doorknob when he saw Mikasa told her all she needed to know. He walked further into the apartment with heavy steps and closed the door behind him with more force than necessary.

The five of them quieted, watching as Eren stalked across the living room and disappeared down a hallway. No one dared speak a word even while Eren came back out, already changed into a new set of clothes, and began moving around the apartment like no one was there.

Eren eventually looked up at them after he’d made himself a bowl of greek yogurt and blueberries. He held eye contact with each one of them for at least five seconds before furrowing his eyebrows and shrugging. “What? Can I not eat?”

Jean cleared his throat, making Marco glare at him. The tension in the room steadily builds until Connie couldn’t take it cracked a stupid joke that got him teased by Jean and Armin. Mikasa softly laughed along, eyeing Eren as he settles between Armin and Connie.

When he looked up at her, she averted her gaze. Instead of looking at him, she looked at the door. The wall. Marco. Anywhere but Eren.

Her gaze caught on a piece of paper haphazardly taped to the wall. Mikasa squinted to read the blocky text on it.

“What’s going on at Quasimodo?” she asked, looking around the circle. She couldn’t read the finer text below the large letters that spelled out OPEN NIGHT.

Armin hummed in question, looking over at the piece of paper. “Oh, they’re having a night where small artists can go and play for free. It’s gonna last a couple days. We’re gonna be performing on the nineteenth.”

Mikasa hummed as Armin looked at the clock—the only other item decorating the apartment. He stood up and dusted off his pants before excusing himself and going down the same hall Eren had earlier. When he came back, he wore a black polo with the restaurant’s logo above his left breast. He grabbed his keys before saying goodbye to everyone and leaving.

Mikasa assumed Armin must have been the middle friend between her and everyone else because when he left she felt like the four others were staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

“So . . .” Mikasa drew the word out, thinking of what to say. “How has everything been going?”

Jean blew out a breath, leaning back against the wall. “Good enough. We have the space to practice but nowhere to play.”

“That’s just because we haven’t been looking in the right places,” Eren said. He turned his gaze to Jean, one of his eyebrows slightly raised. “We just need to get our name out there. Then people will pay attention to us.”

“People won’t pay attention to us if they don’t know who we are, dipshit.” Jean rolled his eyes. Eren shot him a glare that made it seem like he might kill him later.

Silence fell over the room again. In those few moments, Mikasa’s thoughts wandered to the Instagram page she’d started for her mom’s business and how online sales had shot up.

“Why don’t you get an Instagram?” she suggested. “Or like, Twitter or TikTok or whatever. Some kind of social media to promote yourselves.”

Mikasa felt like shrinking in on herself with the way their eyes turn to her. She felt like their gazes were scrutinizing her, almost judging her for speaking out.

She knew they would never. She only started feeling that way after no one spoke for what feels like hours.

“That’s a good idea,” Marco said. He switched his gaze to meet Eren’s. “Lots of people use it to promote themselves, why don’t we?”

He held Eren’s gaze for a moment. It seemed as though the two were having an argument in their thoughts until finally, Eren exhaled.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

The topic changed after that. To what, Mikasa didn’t know. What she did know was that she had been indirectly designated to create and (probably) manage the new account, and then later asked directly by Connie since, as he put it, “You’re the only one with the divine, God-given level of intellect and marketing skills to do a fantastic job at managing us.”

She put little effort into it. She’d gone to the bathroom while the remaining four talked about going to bed and as she stood at the sink after washing her hands, made the account heartattack5 on both Instagram and TikTok. She made the profile picture a silly photo she had taken years ago of the five of them on Halloween. In it, they held their hands out and had their eyes closed as if doing an exorcism of sorts. On the floor in front of them was a drawing of a zodiac from a show Mikasa had long forgotten about.

Maybe it wasn’t the best profile picture, but it worked until she could get a better one.

heartattack5 also wasn’t the best username, but she came up with it in the spur of the moment. She knew no one else would have better ideas, so she just went with it. As she was leaving the bathroom she began finding everyone’s profiles and following them.

On her way out of the bathroom, she bumped into Eren.

By that point, the light in the living room was turned off and the only thing brightening the hallway were the slivers that came from beneath two of the bedroom doors and a weak night light that was plugged into the wall.

They stared at each other for a moment. Eren’s piercing green gaze sliced through her, reading her every thought and learning her darkest secrets.

“I told you not to follow us,” he said. He spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the others that had already retreated to their rooms.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” Mikasa slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She shifted her weight to one of her legs and crossed her arms. “I came here of my own volition, not because of you.”

“And yet this was the first place you came. You didn’t even go to wherever you’re staying first to drop off your bags.”

“Well.” She ended it there. She had tried coming with a defense to whatever Eren might throw at her while she was driving, but her efforts had proven fruitless. Instead of retaliating, she shrugged.

Eren sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had grown out a bit, the ends now resting at his jaw. “Please go home. I don’t want to drag you down with us if we aren’t successful. You have something guaranteed at home.”

“It’s not home without you guys,” she said, though it sounded like she had added guys as an after thought. There was an awkward pause between the final two words, and hearing it made Eren pause.

He looked at her, pressing his lips together. He knew Mikasa tended to lean towards people’s whims and do what they wanted, but goddamn she could be stubborn as hell when she wanted something. She stood in front of him, her feet planted so firmly in place Eren didn’t think a tornado could move her.

He finally exhaled and breathed out, averting his gaze to the seam where the hallway ceiling met the wall. “Fine. Whatever.”

Mikasa bit the inner corner of her lip to keep from smiling. She gave a soft nod, tilting her head down so Eren didn’t see the look of triumph on her face.

She moved to walk around him and gather her things, ready to get out of their hair for the night and sleep in her car or find a hotel, but Eren gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She could feel its warmth through her sweater, and she turned her head.

“Just stay. You’re already here.”

“I don’t want to impose,” she whispered, though after she said it she realized how useless it was to say it. She had already come by completely unannounced and likely overstayed her visit by a few hours.

“It doesn’t matter. You can sleep with me in my room.”

Mikasa stared at him, and for a moment it seemed like she was the one reading Eren’s thoughts and learning his secrets. She gave a soft nod, turning to follow Eren as he opened his bedroom door and flicked on the light.

Unsurprisingly, it was bare. There was nothing up on the walls and two of Eren’s suitcases are open with clothes pouring out of them. There was a pile of boxes in one corner, and in the opposite was a mattress without a frame.

Mikasa held back a chuckle. Eren closed the door behind her, leaving it open a finger’s width, before going to lie down on the bed.

Mikasa awkwardly stood for a moment before joining him. In her mind she made a barrier that neither she nor Eren were to cross that night, and was adamant about keeping it. She laid on her stomach and turned her head away from him, her arms beneath the pillow. Eren laid on his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking, This is why those fuckers gave me the biggest room for myself.

—

In the following days, heartattack5 had gained almost two thousand followers.

Mikasa tried posting consistently. She stayed up at all hours of the day filming content with her phone and then editing the clips in the late hours of the night.

She’d changed the profile picture to one where Connie sat at his drums, Eren sitting in front of them while the other three leaned against Connie. She tried to get video of all of them playing their respective instruments and nicely framed photos to post.

She’d made a routine. She would wake up at the crack of dawn, around the time Armin returned home from his shift, and shower. She’d eat breakfast and spend a couple minutes each morning either pacing around the empty living room or laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling or scrolling on her phone. When the first person woke up—Marco, usually—she would chat with them for a bit before she began recording and taking pictures.

As the others woke up she would record them, too. She found that people enjoyed short slice of life videos alongside the more planned ones, so some days she would just record an exchange between all of them for hours.

Then, she had dinner in the room she shared with Eren. She sat crisscross on the floor and sifted through the video she’d taken while she ate. She had a pile of drafts saved up in both Instagram and TikTok, and she was always adding more.

Then, later in the night when she came out from the room to bid Armin a good shift and talked at the dinghy table with everyone else, she finally put her phone down. She’d leave it in the room on the charger and tried her best to push follows and views and likes and comments from her mind while she talked to her friends.

When they would start going to bed one by one, Eren was always the last to leave. He stayed awake with her until she was ready to go to bed, even if his eyes were dropping and he kept jerking awake. She’d finally laugh and say she’s going to bed even if she wasn’t tired, just so Eren could get the sleep he needed.

And at night, when Eren was snoring so loudly it practically shook the walls, Mikasa unlocked her phone and checked the account. When the numbers of new people were low, it left a harsh blow to her self esteem.

She would finally put her phone facedown on the wood floor and close her eyes, trying not to let the numbers or new ideas to get more people flood her mind.

The barricade she’d mentally made that first day she slept in the same bed as Eren was always there, but every night it was knocked down. Every morning she woke up with some part of Eren tied up in her, whether it be their arms pressed together or his hands on her waist or her head tucked into his chest.

In the morning when she found out where they had let their guard fall, she felt at peace.

—

“Come see us at Quasimodo tonight!”

In the video, Eren screamed at Mikasa’s phone before she panned over to Connie, who had his tongue out and his pointer and pinky finger on one hand up. It was short and ended there, but Mikasa had added a soft overlay of Heart Attack’s song “The Bends” to the background.

It was the best performing video she’d made, and it had only been posted at ten that morning.

Mikasa smiled with pride every time she checked her phone and the numbers skyrocketed. It started at 50, and then 100, and then seemingly out of nowhere shot up to 2,000 somewhere between eleven and noon. By the time the band was at Quasimodo getting ready for their gig, she was beaming at the white 37,000 in the bottom left corner, a number that went up every time she refreshed the page.

She didn’t know what it was about this one that did so well, but she wasn’t complaining.

Mikasa sat by herself at a table close to the stage. She could barely see whoever was playing beyond the bodies crowded together in front of her, but when she heard Eren’s voice she would move.

She kept her phone face up on the table, reading every single notification that came up on her phone.

Eren, peeking through the curtain during an intermission while the drums were being set up, watched Mikasa obsess over her phone. He noticed the way her eyes seemed to sparkle at the growing numbers, and some part of him thought to talk to her about it later.

But he moved his gaze around, and at a table at the back of the club spotted a blond man sitting with one other person. Eren didn’t recognize the brown-haired woman, but he knew who the blond was immediately.

“Guys.” Eren turned toward the others, the faintest grin on his face. “Erwin fucking Smith is here.”

Connie’s eyes practically popped out of his head with how much he had widened them. “Are you being serious right now?” he asked in disbelief.

“The Erwin Smith? Owner of Scout Records?”

Eren nodded. Jean lowly whistled and straightened himself. Armin ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath that fell somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp of disbelief.

Marco, who had been drinking water, set the plastic bottle down. He put a hand on Jean’s and Eren’s shoulders, gently squeezing. When Eren turned his head, Marco had a vibrant smile on his face.

“This is our chance guys. We can finally break through and get on the radio or something.”

“That’s if he likes our music,” Armin pointed out. Everyone turned to him. “If he doesn’t then there’s no chance.”

“Which is why we make him like it.” Back to Eren. “We play the best we’ve ever played. We aren’t in Mom’s garage anymore. We put our hearts and souls into this.”

A moment of hesitance passed. Eren met everyone’s gaze, holding each of them for ten seconds. His piercing green eyes seemed to look into their minds, reading every desire they’ve ever had.

Finally, they all slowly nodded. An agreement passed between them and they exchanged a smile. When the stagehand called to them to say they were ready, Jean began lazily playing a quiet tune on his bass.

Eren was the first out. He grabbed the microphone and scanned the crowd. He noticed Mikasa walk closer to where the band stood to take pictures, and his smile widened when he met Erwin Smith’s gaze.

“This is Heart Attack.” Eren flashed his straight teeth again, winking at one of the girls closer to the front, before Connie started the upbeat tune to their debut song, Armin joining in soon after.

Eren tried his best not to let his gaze wander to the booth Erwin sat at. He tried to keep his stare on the wall or the people at their tables, but he always found his eyes moving back to Erwin.

Not knowing what to do every time they made eye contact, Eren winked at him. Erwin had no reaction except a subtle eyebrow raise, and Eren immediately regretted his decision.

After they had bowed and strolled off, Eren ran a hand over his face and groaned. The group of them found Mikasa on the ground floor and walked to the table she’d reserved. Eren pressed his forehead against the wood and began tapping his foot against the floor.

“Dude, what is wrong?” Connie asked. He had ordered a glass that had some caramel colored liquid Eren couldn’t identify and was playing with the straw between his fingers. “You are like, stressing. Which is understandable since Erwin Smith is here, but-”

“I winked at him.” Eren lifted his head. From the corner of his eye he would see Jean lifting his glass to his lips.

“Huh? Who?”

“Erwin Smith.”

Jean laughed, lowering his glass and covering his mouth with a fist. He cleared his throat to cover his laugh and looked away. Eren shot him a glare.

“Why did you wink at Erwin Smith?” Jean teased.

“I don’t know. It just . . . happened.”

“How do you just happen to wink at someone?” Armin asked. He smiled, teasing Eren, “Was there something in your eye?”

“No! It just . . . I don’t know! But I’m scared. What if he’s homophobic, man? What if that’s the only reason he won’t talk to us is because he thinks I’m gay?”

Marco tensed, but the subtle way he straightened his shoulders and tightened his grip on his cup went unnoticed by everyone except Jean.

Jean’s eyes moved to look at him. He didn’t turn his head, but when he saw the fake smile on Marco’s face as he made a comment Jean didn’t hear, he gently squeezed Marco’s knee.

A soft guitar melody filled the air, a stark contrast to the harsh music that had previously filled the club. Marco turned his head to the stage where a girl in a short cream dress, her hair tied out of her face with a red ribbon, sat on a stool and strummed her guitar. He watched for a moment before turning back to the table.

“I genuinely think I might die,” Eren said. He was leaned back in his chair now, his legs splayed so far out beneath the table that they hit Connie in the shins.

“Sit up right.” Connie playfully kicked Eren’s legs. “Your legs are too damn long for you to relax like that.”

The group laughed. When Armin turned his head to watch the girl on the stage, his gaze instead caught on Erwin Smith, who was standing up from his table.

His eyes followed the man, watching as he bowed to the woman sitting with him and shrugged on his coat. The woman smiled and waved at Erwin as he left the booth, and Armin’s eyes widened as he realized that Erwin Smith was walking towards them.

Armin turned his head to face the table so quickly he thought he pulled a muscle. He coughed to catch the table’s attention, and when they turned to him he quietly said, “Erwin Smith is walking this way.”

Eren’s eyes slightly widened. He craned his neck to see around Armin and immediately straightened when he saw that his friend was telling the truth. He slapped his hand against the table as of warning Jean and Connie to stop bickering.

He cracked a stupid joke right as Erwin began passed behind him. No one even understood what he had said, which earned him questioning glances from everyone at the table before Erwin positioned himself between Eren and a Mikasa’s chairs.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. He placed a hand on the back of Erin’s chair, making sure his presence was noticed.

As if anyone wouldn’t notice if Erwin fucking Smith was looking directly at them.

“Nah, you’re fine,” Eren said. He regretted it immediately because who talks to a celebrity like that? He cleared his throat, trying to put up a front that said he knew what he was doing here. “Can I help you?”

Erwin opened his coat, reaching into a pocket that must have been inside and pulled out a business card. He held it out to Eren. “I’m the owner of Scout Records. I really enjoyed what you boys did tonight. I’d like you to sign with the company, if it interests you.”

Eren, who had been looking up at Erwin as he spoke, moved his gaze to the business card. It had a sleek design, one single dark green line moving across the entire card underneath the words Scout Records. Beneath all of that was his name and basic information, including an email and phone number to contact.

“Of course, I’ll contact you again at a later date if you haven’t decided, but this is your choice.” Erwin moves his gaze from Eren’s and meets that of everyone else around the table. “All of you.” His stare paused on Mikasa. “We can even find a spot for your publicist.”

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat as Eren nodded. Publicist. She didn’t consider herself that, but the title had a nice ring to it.

Erwin bowed his head, bidding the group goodbye before turning and walking out of the jazz club.

The group waited until the door had closed behind Erwin before they started cheering. This was it. This was their shot.

Maybe they really did have a chance in this industry.

—

When they returned to their apartment that night, they popped open a cheap bottle of wine and drank from plastic cups to celebrate. They spilled the liquid haphazardly on the floor and counters, but didn’t bother to clean it up. Even Mikasa had set her phone to the side and allowed her head to become buzzed.

She regretted it the next morning, of course, because she was a lightweight and the headache she woke up with felt as if it was splitting her skull apart. She knew she woke up much later than she normally did because Eren wasn’t beside her in the bed and she could hear voices coming through the wall from the living room.

She stood and stretched, pulling a hoodie on over her tank top before opening the bedroom door.

“No, if we call him right now we’ll seem desperate.”

“Aren’t you the one that has been praying we’d get noticed for years? And when we finally do you don’t want to jump on that opportunity?”

“I’m playing smart here, Jean. If we contact them too early then we’ll seem excitable and naïve.”

“Please, Eren. He offered us. We won’t look pathetic if we call and say we accept his offer.”

Eren exhaled. Mikasa saw him press his lips into a thin line. “We have to play the long game-“

“If we play the long game then we’re gonna get dropped-“

“What would you know about this shit anyway? It’s not like you have a fucking degree in-”

“And you know anything more than I do?”

Their voices continued raising and they continued talking over each other. The pain in Mikasa’s head became so evident she could feel it in her fingers. Her ears were ringing, and she had one finger pressed to the inner cartilage of her ear as she aggressively grabbed Eren by she shoulder.

“Shut up,” she said, letting him go. “It’s too early for the two of you to be arguing, and I’m pretty sure everyone else is still sleeping.”

Mikasa walked over to the fridge and opened it, taking out the carton of eggs. She grabbed a cup from the cabinet. She pulled two eggs from the carton and spilled both of them into the cup. After throwing the shells away, she grabbed hold of the cup before taking a deep breath and downing its contents in one go.

Her face scrunched and her eyes closed. She held the last but in her mouth, reluctant to swallow before gulping it down. When she opened her eyes, she saw that both Eren and Jean were looking at her with the most horrified expressions me she had ever seen.

Mikasa gulped one more time, trying to get the taste out of her mouth, before washing the glass and saying, “What?”

Eren blinked. Jean ran a hand through his hair.

“You just drank two raw eggs,” Eren said.

Mikasa shrugged, setting the glass down in the sink and turning around. “So?”

Eren blinked again, though this time it was more aggressive. He put his hands on the edge of the faux marble counter. “You just drank. Two raw eggs,” he repeated.

“What the hell is wrong with you.” Jean jokes, though it seemed as though some part of him was genuinely bewildered about what could possibly make Mikasa drink raw eggs.

“Yeah.” Mikasa leaned against the sink behind her and crossed her arms and ankles in front of her. “It’s a remedy for hangovers. My mom used to do it when she had one, and that one time I came back from a night of drinking she gave it to me. It worked, so.” She shrugged again.

Eren blinked a few more times before shaking his head and straightening. Jean, however, still looked baffled at Mikasa’s actions, but he eventually shook it off and continued eating the bowl of cereal in front of him.

Mikasa blinked a couple more times in confusion before shaking her head and continuing about her day. She took a seat at the dinghy table and stared at the grain in the wood. She wondered for a moment how her parents were doing, but when she reached for her phone to text them, she realized that she had no idea where her phone was.

It wasn’t in her room. If it was then it would have been the first thing she checked in the morning. She scanned the table and didn’t find it there either.

Panic began settling in as her gaze frantically traveled around the room. She didn’t want to tell anyone because a phone isn’t all that when you really think about it. Except for her it is. That’s her life. Her job. Her livelihood, if she loses her phone then she loses her memory card and she’ll never get it back.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

“Are you looking for this?” Jean came up beside her and held something in front of her, the familiar polaroid of Mikasa and Eren at their eleventh grade prom catching her eye.

She looked up at Jean as she gently took it from his hands and nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Instinctively, she checked the time. 11:34. It was so much later in the day than she thought.

Jean returned her nod. “Yup.”

He put his hands in the pockets of his sweats, awkwardly standing beside her. Neither of them said anything. Mikasa wanted to break the silence, but she didn’t know how.

“How’s it going with Marco?” she decided to ask. Jean and Marco had never officially came out, but they were obvious enough that the band knew about it—or that something was there, at least. No one was sure if they were officially together or not. Not to mention the way they look at each other when the other isn’t paying attention.

Jean nodded. “Yeah. It’s going good.”

Silence enveloped the room again. It was Mikasa’s fault, really. She shouldn’t have asked such a dry question.

Jean began drumming his fingers against the edge of the counter, the consistent noise driving Mikasa crazy. Her still present headache was not helping.

“I think you guys should call Erwin.” She couldn’t take the silence anymore. Or the tapping. “He’s the one that offered. He wants you guys with his studio.”

Jean blew out a breath. “Yeah. Tell that shit to Eren. That asshole won’t let up.” He crossed his arms and looks up, staring out the window. “He thinks playing the long game will better our chances of going big. You know what’ll help us go big? Accepting the offers we fucking get.”

Fantastic. Mikasa had led Jean on a spiel. At least it was better than his insistent tapping.

“Not to mention it’d better your chance of making it, too. Prove to him that you don’t have to be at home to be successful or happy.”

Jean and Mikasa held each other’s gazes. She always treaded carefully around him, especially with the history of feelings they had. She didn’t quite know if he had gotten over her completely, but his situation with Marco must mean something.

“You should tell him,” Mikasa said. They both know who she was talking about.

“He knows,” Jean replied. “He just . . . I think he’s scared.”

Mikasa nodded. She understood. Maybe not entirely, but she got it. She knew how it felt to pine after your best friend for years, but she didn’t know how it felt to feel that way about a girl. Especially when your family is as religious as Marco’s.

“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Let him figure it out.”

“I know. I’m trying to. I am, but . . . You know me.”

She did. Jean Kirschtein was loud about the love he had and who it was for. He was the love interest in cheesy rom coms that did grand gestures for no reason just to declare his love. He was the one that would run into the airport minutes before your flight to win you back. He was the one that would travel halfway across the world just to give you flowers. He was the one that would somehow gather his graduating class to orchestrate a dance just to ask you to the prom.

He was the one that was being forced into silence to give his love time.

“It just sucks.”

Mikasa offered a soft smile, though it was clear that it did nothing to help. “I know.”

They sit in silence for a bit. It’s not as suffocating and choking as the one before, but there is still that air of tension about it. Jean leaves the main room after he drops his cereal bowl in the sink, the fake ceramic clinking against its metal walls. Mikasa watched him go, waiting until she heard his bedroom door close to pull out her phone.

She pops open the case. Eren had given her Erwin Smith’s business card before they had all started drinking. He said she would keep it safe, and she did.

She flipped it over, copying the number into her phone and holding it up to her ear. She listened as it dialed, biting her nail as she waited. It felt like she sat there forever, and she pulled the phone away to hang up when she was sure no one would answer.

“Erwin Smith’s office. How may I help you?”

Mikasa’s lips stretched into a wide smile as she quickly brought the phone back up to her ear. “Hi, I’m Mikasa Ackerman. I’m calling to talk to Erwin Smith about the offer he extended to the band Heart Attack last night. At Quasimodo.”

She heard shuffling on the other line, before a couple clicks. “Yes, of course. He told me to keep an eye out for your band. I’ll schedule a time for him to contact you. Expect a call at around 2:45, alright?”

Mikasa nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman on the other line gave Mikasa a few more details, such as what number to expect the call from. She made sure to say that Mikasa would not receive a text or email, that it would be a call only from a number Mikasa had to write down to remember.

Two hours later, Mikasa sat in the bathroom hiding from everyone, on the phone with Erwin Smith himself.

—

“You did not,” Eren said after they had received a package. He looked up at Mikasa, who was sitting at the table and eating a bowl of pomegranate seeds.

“What?” She looked up from her phone, hiding a smile. She had seen the box earlier in the day, and only brought it inside for someone else to open and be surprised by.

Eren carried the box over to the table and dropped it, ripping the tape with his keys and opening the cardboard flaps. He revealed emerald green tissue paper wrapped around something else, an envelope with the band name written in gold sitting on top.

In the top corner of the envelope, Scout Records was stamped in capital letters.

Mikasa gasped, feigning surprise as she set her phone down and stood up. She walked next to Eren, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations!” she said, though it wasn’t convincing. She wasn’t a very good actor, and this situation was no exception.

Eren looked at her, his gaze piercing. “You called them.”

Mikasa nodded. She held Eren’s stare, refusing to back down and apologize. She watched the gears in his head turn before he turned his head, facing the wooden table as he laughed.

He slapped his hand on the table, catching Mikasa by surprise when he also wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“Thank you so much, Mikasa.” Without thinking, Eren kissed the top of her head. “I think I genuinely love you.”

Mikasa’s cheeks burned. She managed a soft smile as she pulled away enough to look up at Eren’s face. He was beaming, his smile so wide it showed all his teeth and so bright Mikasa swore the room had lit up.

Mikasa’s own smile widened. “Well if we had gone with your timeline then they would have forgotten about the offer. I have a meeting with him in a little bit about terms and conditions and stuff like that.”

“You’re meeting with him?”

Mikasa nodded. “I’m your publicist, aren’t I?”

Eren laughed again—a soft, breathy laugh that made Mikasa’s heart beat so loud she couldn’t hear anything else.

Eren let her go after saying something she didn’t catch. He woke up Jean (who had been sleeping on the couch while watching women’s boxing. Mikasa was positive he just turned something on for background noise) before going down the hall to bother Connie, Armin and Marco.

Their exclamations of happiness soon filled the apartment, and while they were yelling and jumping around, Mikasa slipped into the bedroom she shared with Eren and changed into something more presentable.

She switched her T-shirt and shorts for a black dress that had puffy sleeves. She put striped black tights on beneath it and spent too long deciding whether or not to wear a jacket over everything.

She decided not to, instead throwing it on her side of the bed and looking herself over in the mirror. She flattened stray hairs and fixed a bit of makeup, finally grabbing her bag before walking back out into the main room.

“And would you look at that! Annie Leonhart wins her first ever match fresh out of the Warrior program.”

Mikasa walked to the front door as she looked at the TV. She began slipping on her shoes, tying the laces up as she watched the blonde girl on the screen lift her fists in triumph as she walked around the rink. There were red stripes down her cheeks, ones so bright that Mikasa thought she was bleeding before realizing it was makeup.

“Now, we know that the Marleyan Warriors produce fantastic athletes, but I think this is the most potential we’ve seen in one. Don’t you think, Keith?”

“Absolutely. Annie Leonhart lives up to her title of the Female Titan. She comes in with such a loud presence and makes sure you know she’s there.”

The blonde girl bowed, the camera following as she steps out of the rink and down the walkway. The commentators—Theo Magath and Keith Shadis, Mikasa reads off the screen—continued talking about her performance, replaying clips from her match against a much stockier woman. It was a wonder that Annie won, they were saying.

“What are you watching?” Mikasa asked. She stayed by the door, but spoke loud enough so Jean could hear her from his spot on the couch.

Jean shrugged, muting the TV and standing up. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned. “I just turned something on. It’s women’s boxing, though. I think.”

Mikasa nodded, reaching over to the rack beside the door to grab her keys and wallet. “Okay. I’ll be back. I have a meeting with Erwin, but I’ll bring food later, so don’t eat anything.”

Jean smiled, turning off the TV and looking over at her. “Thank you.”

The corners of Mikasa’s lips tilted up, and she gave another soft nod before opening the door and leaving.

—

Connie’s scream of excitement was so piercing it had a little girl across the street covering her ears, mustering the harshest glare she could towards him.

“Connie, shut the fuck up,” Jean said, swinging an arm around the drummer. “We’re gonna get kicked off the streets.”

“Jean.” Connie gripped Jean’s opposite shoulder, the popsicle in his hand millimeters from falling off its stick and onto the floor. “Not only did we get offered a spot at Scout Records, but Mikasa also called to confirm we still have it. And we do! So now tell me, why shouldn’t I be screaming at the top of my lungs about this?”

Jean rolled his eyes, but a wide smile spread across his face as the two of them found a table to sit at. Marco, Eren, and Armin were still in the store looking for something to eat, so Jean and Connie slid onto the benches across from each other as they waited for a few minutes.

Jean opened his mouth to say something when they settled in, but he saw the rest of the band practically bouncing out of the convenience store with bright smiles on their faces. They were whooping and hollering, careful not to drop their ice creams or popsicles as they jumped around.

Connie joined them, hopping up from his seat and grabbing Marco’s and Eren’s hands. He shook them, his poorly made spongebob popsicle forgotten on the table. It was mostly finished anyway, the only remnants of it being a small pool of flavored water, so Jean picked it up and threw it away.

Someone jumped on him from the side, making Jean lose his balance for a moment. He wrapped his hand around the bar of the trash can before looking over at Marco.

The smile on his face was so wide it showed his dimples. His eyes were shining and his grip around Jean was tight. He was radiant—absolutely perfect in Jean’s eyes.

“We made it,” Marco said breathlessly. There was still the disbelief he had when Eren had originally told them about their record deal in his eyes. “Oh my god, we fucking made it.”

That’s how Jean knew how ecstatic Marco was. He never cursed. Never in a million years did a word as light as crap even leave his lips.

Jean couldn’t help but try and mirror Marco’s smile, but the attempt was fruitless. Nothing could ever shine as bright as this boy he loved so dearly.

“Hell yeah we did.” Jean wrapped his arms around Marco, holding him impossibly closer. “We fucking did it!”

Jean kissed Marco on the cheek in an action that could be passed as chaste, however it was anything but to Jean. Marco hugged Jean impossibly tighter, smiling at him with the soft grin that made Jean fall in love in the first place.

The others pounded on them after that—first Eren with a tackle so aggressive Jean and Marco almost fell over, and then Connie and Armin with pushes that rivaled Eren’s.

They caught themselves before losing their balance, and their laughs rang through the air so loudly that the same little girl Jean had seen glared at them again, this time along with her mother.

They began walking as they separated, Eren and Connie both walking backwards so they could talk without creating an obnoxious line of people.

“Alright guys, let’s talk first studio album. What are we thinking?” Connie held his hands out, welcoming ideas. “Personally, I think we should do the opening track about how birds are government property and are spying on us.”

Eren scrunched his face as Armin chuckled. “What the fuck?” Eren said. “The birds are watching us?”

“Well yeah.” Connie shrugged his shoulders, as if his revelation about birds was as common as grass. “Why don’t you see them in the rain?”

“Because they hide from the rain like any other being with instinct,” Jean said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Connie pointed at him. “False. It’s actually because the birds are robots, and if they get wet then they sizzle and fucking die.” He tutted. “The government can’t have that.”

Jean and Marco laughed. They stood close together, their hands brushing every now and then.

“We are not making an album about robot birds, Connie,” Eren said. “That is so stupid.”

“Well what do you propose we make it about? Because the only other thing that’s good to write about is love, and I remember you saying very explicitly, ‘Love is a bullshit idea that makes soft sound.’”

Eren gasped dramatically. “I said no such thing.”

“We literally said you should write a song about Mikasa and you went on a whole rant,” Armin said.

Eren rolled his eyes. “I do not want to write sappy love songs. That’s cheesy and none of us have anyone anyway.”

Jean didn’t comment, but he glanced over at Marco. Marco kept his gaze ahead, fondly smiling and switching his gaze to whoever decided to tease Eren about his thing with Mikasa.

That’s when he saw it. A sleek, bright red sports car speeding on the street. The windows were blacked out, but someone’s arm was hanging out of one. Jean squinted, trying to see what they were holding.

The person started to climb out, tightening their grip on the object in their hand. Jean couldn’t recognize any significant features about them except the pale yellow hoodie they wore and the red smeared across their cheeks.

They held the object up, fumbling a bit to keep it in their hand as the car sped around. They howled when they almost dropped it, and lifted it.

It was a gun. The light glinted off the metal of the barrel as they haphazardly pulled the trigger, hitting a spot in the grass.

Jean wrapped his hand around Marco’s elbow. Marco turned his head, about to inquire about what Jean needed just as the bassist was about to tell them they needed to go.

But he didn’t get the chance. His words got caught in his throat as another gunshot sounded and Marco stumbled against him.

Jean held him up, trying to steady him with Armin’s help as Connie and Eren looked around. Eren fumbled with his phone as he tried calling the police after he spotted the car. When Jean pulled his hand away to readjust his hold, bright red blood, warm and sticky, stared up at him.

BANG!

JEAN: We all watched him die. He just crumbled against us and . . .

ARMIN: Blood was coming out of his mouth. He was choking on it trying to talk and I- [sniff] There was nothing any of us could do. We just stood there trying to help but we couldn’t.

EREN: I think about it, sometimes. Especially when I’m alone at night. I think that if I had been faster with my phone then the police would have been there faster, and maybe we could have saved them.

JEAN: The only thing I saw when I looked up was blonde hair. Whoever shot Marco had already gotten back in the car while it was speeding away.

CONNIE: Marco was . . . He was everything to us. Heart Attack lost their heart that day. [wipes tears] It was fucking hard after that.

EREN: We spent a long time not doing anything. It would have been longer if Erwin hadn’t threatened us with losing our record deal. We came up with “Holiday.”

ARMIN: Marco wrote the keyboard track for that. Before he died. It was the last song of ours he had something to do with.

JEAN: [voice cracking] I need a minute.

sorry this is so late life got unexpectedly busy 😭

anyways hope you guys have a fantastic rest of your day <3

TAGLIST: @arlerts-angel @conniesrockstargf @fvckingeetar @pluckyduxck @hoejosblindfold @beaniebaby12 if you's like to join the taglist please comment or DM to let me know!

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[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 1: Before the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.

warnings: It's the Daisy Jones and the Six!AU, Enemies to friends to lovers, Love triangles, sex, drugs, rock and roll, etc., fake relationships, bad parents all around, era-typical misogyny and sexism, mentions of reader's looks (as being very beautiful), partially interview format, no use of YN

AN: Hi, if you're a longtime TCGU reader, please read this note from me explaining this new format. If this is your first time coming across This fic, welcome! Please enjoy my attempt at a Daisy Jones and the Six!AU with some Fleetwood Mac-messiness thrown in.

MASTERLIST🎸

Prologue 🎤

WC: 8.6K

***

STEVE: Right, so I just start talking into this microphone thing?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, but you need to introduce yourself first.

STEVE: You know who I am, we’ve known each other for—ah, okay, okay sorry. I’m Steve. Harrington, obviously. Former lead singer and guitarist of The Downsides. So, uh, where do I start?

INTERVIEWER: The beginning—tell me about how you first got involved with music.

STEVE: Right, okay, I can do that. I grew up kinda lonely. My dad was this big real estate investor but we lived in Indiana of all places, so he was always traveling. I don’t think I remember him ever being home for more than a month straight growing up… and my mom was there but she wasn’t there, ya know? She drank a lot and spent a lot of time in bed, that sort of thing.

***

1962-1972, Los Angeles California

Your childhood is a lonely one but it’s also a boring and predictable one.

Born in sun-soaked LA to a movie director father and his much younger model wife, two people who didn’t know each other well enough to either love or hate the other. They maintained a similar distance in their marriage as the one they tried to uphold in their individual relationships with you, their child.

So, your infancy was spent in a rotation of different nanny’s arms with your parents’ presence only dotting the periphery of your life. Who could blame them, after all? Infants are so contrived and boring compared to the big, wide, world of art that was Los Angeles in the 1960s.  Your parents were far too busy trying to cement their legacy in the art they created and inspired to spend too much time looking after you.

(Much later in life, you would find yourself wondering if your parents ever saw the irony  in the fact that your art ended up eclipsing their entire existence in the end and their only legacy was that of being your parents.)

As a child, however, you spent little time thinking of legacy and instead spent your time trying to feel less lonely.

***

STEVE: When I was a kid I would wonder why my parents even had me. Sorry, that’s like a total bummer thing to say during an interview. But it’s true. And you said to tell the truth. I never felt wanted by them. Until I got famous, and even then… but that’s not new,  a lot of kids grow up feeling lonely, right?

***

The employees who raised you were nice enough, but they saw you for what you were: a means to an end. A paycheck with big, sad, beautiful eyes that may beget sympathy, but they couldn’t get too close to.  The children you came to meet at your elite California private school seemed palatable enough at first, but the more you interacted with them, the more you found yourself at a loss. It was like they spoke a secret language you did not know—a language of price tags, and ever-changing hierarchies and thinly-veiled insults. One that your mother spoke perfectly, but never bothered to pass down to you.

You end up turning to books instead. The home library your father kept up for appearances’ sakes became your favorite room in the house and your teenage growth spurts were fed by any and all novels you could get your hands on from historical biographies to soapy romances, you read them all.  You loved them all, but you loved poetry the most— emotive and raw in ways you were unfamiliar with. You liked the way the syllables rolled gracefully into one another and how each word served a purpose—compact with meaning and so unlike the people around you who were so careless with their words.

As you began to age, and the meaningless mess of childhood shifted into the sharpness of adolescence, you began to write yourself. One day, somehow you had the idea of putting your poetry to music. If you could write songs good enough to be played on the radio then maybe you could earn people's adoration through your art like your parents had, you reasoned. Maybe you could even earn their adoration. You beg your parents for piano lessons, and they scoff at the thought.  “But what’s the point of having one if no one can play it?” You ask, referencing the piano in the grand foyer.

“That piano is not meant to be played,” your mother explains, slowly, “it’s meant to be admired by our guests.”

She walks away from the conversation before you can even protest.

Instead of giving up, though, you went to the library and borrowed all the books you could on music and piano playing and slowly began to teach yourself. You were not very good, at first, and both your parents made a habit of reminding you whenever they were around to hear you practicing. Luckily, they were rarely around.

***

STEVE: My parents signed me up for every single activity and extra-curricular you can think of: karate, basketball, pottery.   The one that really stuck though, was guitar lessons. Soon, that was the only thing I wanted to do it was something I was actually good at. Not something I had potential in, not something I was passable at. It was something I was good at. My dad did not like the idea of me going into music at first—he wanted me to take on a “manlier” hobby—but even he couldn’t deny that I was talented, and he sent me to this specialized music school in Indianapolis. That’s where I met Robin. That’s when I stopped feeling so alone.

ROBIN: Robin Buckley, brass, bass, and synth for The Downsides.

I met Steve when we were thirteen, I think, at this fancy music school in Indianapolis. I was there on scholarship.  I’m not going to lie, he was obnoxious, but most thirteen-year-old boys are. Even then, though, there was something about him that made everyone want to be his friend. He was also really talented. He never had to work very hard to be good at something, but he worked hard anyway. I hated him at first, but he wore me down and we eventually became best friends.

***

1978

Your music became a good outlet for all your loneliness and anger and disappointment, but it was not a cure for any of those things. You craved friendship and commonality and to be liked beyond the surface.

One day, when you were towards the end of seventeen, you decided to go exploring. You had heard Emily Cooke whispering salaciously in the girls’ bathroom at school about sneaking into the Whiskey A Go-Go to see The Six playing and an idea began to blossom.

Your home was only a walking distance from the Strip, the aptly named piece of street that was lined with clubs and musical venues, so that day, after hearing Emily’s plan you decided to try your luck at the Whiskey. You loved music, after all, and you wanted to be good at it, like the musicians that played there. Plus, there were others that shared those interests and the was a chance that some of them would be more tolerable than Emily Cooke.

You waited in line, by yourself, donning an outfit that you hoped made you look older than you were in an organic, cool way. When you made it to the doorman, you smiled trying to look more confident than pleading. His eyes raked over your body once, then twice and you resist the urge to flinch away. You had known then that you were beautiful—mostly because it was the only thing your mother valued in you— but what you hadn’t known was how far just being beautiful could get you. The doorman had let you in the club, not even questioning when your voice wavered while you had told him you were older than you actually were.

***

ROBIN:   Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Steve was my first kiss.

INTERVIEWER: Uh, Robin?

ROBIN: Oh, right…. Well, whatever, Steve Harrington was my first kiss. He was also the first person I told that I liked girls. I knew from a really early age that I didn’t find men attractive but when Steve kissed me at our high school dance I had this immediate realization and I sorta burst out, “Steve, I like girls.” It was a really great moment of self-awareness for me—growing up as a girl, they always try to put you in this box of like feminity and being whatever men wanted you to be, including an object to be looked at or pawned over. I didn’t know how being gay fit into all that, until that moment.

I don’t think it was that great of a moment for Steve, though.

STEVE: She told you about that? Well, for the record, it wasn't that I wasn't happy for her, it's just when you're a teenage boy and if your first crush admits she's a lesbian moments after you kiss her for the first time, well, it does not do your ego any favors, does it?

***

The moment you walked through that door, your life became severed in two: the before and the after. You watched, from the fringe of the crowd, as Billy Dunne crooned soulfully, and the audience sang his own words back to him.

You briefly imagine yourself on the stage, being someone that people would actually want to come see, someone that people would listen to. Someone people would love.  

***

STEVE: I always knew I wanted to be in music. It was the only thing that ever made sense. Wait, no, that’s not right… It’s the only thing that ever made life make sense. So, I started working at it, like seriously working it at, when I was 16. I bought as many records as I could, figured out what I liked, what I could do, and I practiced all the time. Like all the time. Robin did, too. I would play the guitar and sing, and she was insane on the trumpet and bass. I don’t think we ever sat down and had a conversation about whether we wanted to form a band or even what we wanted for ourselves in the future. We just always knew it was going to be the two of us, and we were going to be making music. Of course, you can’t have a band with only a guitar and a trumpet, so we had to start looking for more members.

***

1980

From that point on, your life had purpose.

You began to study everything about music—obsessively. You collected records, you played the piano until your fingers became cramped and sore or until your mother yelled at you to stop.

You filled notebook after notebook with lyrics, some good, many bad.

But you also kept your eyes on the tabloids and the gossip rags and the fashion magazines. To be a successful musician, you had to be good of course, but you also had to be well-liked. Growing up in the environment you did had given you a very unique perspective on this. Since infancy, you had seen hopeful artists-to-be approach your father for a chance, or ask your mother for advice. The most successful of them were not always the ones who had the best things to say, but those who said what they had to say in the best way.

 You practiced giving fake interviews in front of your mirror and in the shower. You stayed on top of trends and bought the best-fitting clothes. And most importantly, you tried to associate yourself with all the right people.

By the time you turned 18, you were well-known, even beyond the Strip. Photos of you standing next to the bass player/drummer/guitarist/lead singer of whatever band might have been riding a momentary wave of popularity at the time began to appear in tabloid magazines.

Most of them were men. Most of them wanted something out of you. You became a master in the art of giving just enough for them to think they had a chance with you if it meant that you could learn from them or convince them to listen to one of your songs. But every time you would even mention the idea that you wrote music, you would come hit a wall of patronizing, feigned interest followed by a grab at your chest.

Then came Jason Carver. Lead singer of the Letterman’s, Jason Carver. You dated him for a few weeks, right after you had turned 18. He was 25 and just charming enough for you to overlook his frequent condescension. Plus, he had promised that he would teach you a few chords on the guitar.

One day, you had come over to his apartment and he was getting all worked up because the band’s label was on his ass about writing a song and he couldn’t quite get it right. He needed to write a love song, something introspective and sweet but Jason could only churn out party anthems and songs meant to be played in dive bars.

Eventually, after hearing him gripe for what seemed like an eternity, you sent him off to take a shower and in the meanwhile compiled all of his shreds of half-lines and began to work filling in the gaps. Forty minutes later, you had a solid chorus and first verse to present to him for a song you thought should have been called “All At Once”. You thought that this would’ve made him happy, after all, you had gotten him one step closer to a possible song. (And maybe, you had secretly hoped, in all of his gratitude he could be swayed to give you a writing credit on the song).  Instead, he laughed at you like you were a child pretending to do an adult task and asked you to leave with a hasty promise that he would call you later that week. He never called. The hurt you felt was only a pin-prick. Six months later, you heard The Letterman’s on the radio: a new song by them called, “All At Once”. You tried to convince yourself for a moment that there would be no way that Jason could blatantly steal your song after having mocked you for even trying to write. But, boy, were you wrong. Those were, in fact, your lyrics, on the radio. Yes, the band had added another verse but, ultimately, your lyrics were all there. The same lyrics Jason had so easily dismissed six months prior.

That was when you realized if you were going to get ahead in the industry, you were going to have to play dirty, like Jason Carver.

***

 ROBIN: We met Argyle in Chicago. Once we graduated high school Steve and I started working as subs for small bands in the Midwestern circuit. Yes, it was as grim as it sounds, but it paid the bills and helped us meet people. Argyle was the drummer of some Reggae band that needed a bass player for a few weeks when their bassist got arrested on possession charges. I subbed in and was immediately super impressed by his skills. People always underestimated Argyle, to this day, because of the whole vibe he gives off, you know? But he’s smart and adaptable. Anyway, when his bassist lost his case, the band broke up indefinitely and I tried my best to convince Argyle to join Steve and me. There were two of us, we’d never played an official gig, and we didn’t even have a name, but Argyle said yes. Next was Nancy. We held open auditions for a keyboardist once Argyle was onboard. After five passable auditions, Nancy Fucking Wheeler walks in in this long skirt and bows in her hair. She had a book of Debussy sheet music for God’s sake. I almost burst out laughing when I saw her because I thought she must have been lost but then, in true Nancy Wheeler fashion she blew us all away. Ugh, was that woman talented. And gorgeous. Steve’s jaw had to be crane-lifted off the floor, it was love at first sight.

STEVE: It was not. She’s exaggerating.

1980

Ironically, you met Murray Bauman at one of your parents’ parties.

You knew he was a music producer for Starcourt Records because he kept loudly boasting to his date about it. The same Starcourt Records that the Letterman’s were signed on to.

You waited until he was two gin martinis in and standing alone admiring your father’s latest art purchase before you approached.

“Hello,” you said, brandishing a dazzling smile, your whole body angled and ready to perform this familiar dance.

“Aren’t you the producer for the Letterman’s?”

He shot you a grin that borders on swarmy and said, “why yes, I am and you look like you’re out past your bedtime.”

You didn’t react to his statement and instead marched onwards, “I loved their latest song, ‘All At Once’ right? It’s so romantic.”

“Between you and me, I’m not sure how Carver popped that one out, he’s a bit of a meathead if you catch my drift.”

He didn’t wait to see your reaction before laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah, actually, I’m not surprised to hear that considering I dated him,” your eyes flashed in a way that you hoped came off as dangerous, “and that I wrote that song.”

He regarded you for a moment before breaking out in a laugh. When he saw your expression remained unchanged, he stepped back in assessment.

“Oh shit, you’re being serious.”

You only nodded grimly.

“Okay, well that’s a new one. Usually, girls come up claiming that one of those idiots impregnated them, not this.”

He regarded you again, searching for a trace of a lie. He sighed, “So let’s say that you did write the song, which, knowing what I know about those Neanderthals, I am willing to entertain the possibility of this being at least partially true, then what does that mean? You’re going to blackmail Starcourt? Do you want money?”

You gestured vaguely behind you, sure that he must have known who your parents were. “I don’t need money.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I write music. Obviously. I want to write for your label.”

A grin broke out across his face, “Oh, boy.” He started to laugh: a deep chuckle that floated up from his belly.

“You and every other Joe Schmoe in Hollywood, sweetie.”

“But not every other Joe Schmoe wrote a song for one of your most popular bands.”

Murray regarded you again, he gave you a look you’re all too familiar with. One that says he did not expect such a fight in such an unassuming package.

“Here’s the deal,” you start, taking his brief lapse to pounce, “all I want is for you to take my demo tape and listen to it, like actually listen to it. Do that and we never have to mention this again.”

“And if I say no to your little proposition?”

You smile at his question before offering a small piece of paper, “Then here’s the business card to my lawyer he’ll be reaching out.”

This, puzzlingly, makes the man burst out laughing once again.

“Let me get this straight, you just want me to listen to your tape? That’s the grand blackmailing scheme? No record deal, no music video?”

You shake your head in response, “No, I think my music speaks for itself. I just need to get it in front of the right person.”

Murray’s still chuckling to himself as he extends his hand out signaling for you to drop the tape you are now holding in his hands.

“Fine, but you are one shitty blackmailer.”

You were signed to Startcourt Records a month later.

***

STEVE: Once Nancy joined, we were a band, and so we needed a name. I suggested the Steve Harrington experience but the girls shot me down like, right away. We ended up fighting about names for like an hour. It was actually Argyle who ended up coming up with our name. The Downsides, he had said, since we were all so negative about everything. He had said this after Robin had said I was 'all hair and no brain'. Not the best of origin stories, I guess. But we liked it and that’s how we became The Downsides.

***

NANCY: Nancy Wheeler, former keyboardist for The Downsides.

  I had been playing piano since I was eight, it was just one of those things my parents signed me up for to make me more well-rounded for college applications but I ended up loving it more than they had hoped.

I auditioned for the band on a whim, I was going to Indiana State at the time, getting my teaching degree but I loved playing the piano more than I would ever love being a teacher. To be honest, when I auditioned, I didn’t think they were going to take me, not even after I saw they had another girl in the band. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I had the talent for it, I just didn’t necessarily give off Rock and Roll vibes, but they accepted me anyway.

  I had a feeling Steve liked me from the moment we met, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him then. He’s Steve Harrington for God’s sake. Girls had posters of him up on their walls for the better part of the 80s. I just—I didn’t want people to think I got the spot because I was involved with the lead singer. I wanted people to know that I earned my place through talent. Steve was really disappointed when I turned him down, but he was always really respectful about it.

  That didn’t mean he stopped being interested or that I didn’t feel his eyes on me during every rehearsal in the summer of ‘81.  

1981

Of course, you knew that when you had been signed to Starcourt Records it wasn’t completely because of your talent.

You had started to wonder, however, if Starcourt had given you a shot because they didn't want to risk litigation or maybe because those record execs had seen your name floating around in a magazine or, more importantly, your picture.

The more you thought about it, the more insecure about your place you had felt, like an imposter among others who had earned their spots. But, after one week of rubbing shoulders with the musicians over at Starcourt, you realized that to be able to make it, you were going to have to ooze confidence, even if that confidence was fake.

***

NANCY: We started playing gigs together around the Midwest. In the beginning, we mostly played covers but eventually, we started writing our own music. I’m not a great songwriter and, to be frank, neither is Steve, so a lot of the stuff we were coming up with was pretty simple but it worked for us. We went from playing weddings to actually getting gigs that paid money. I mean it was barely enough to cover gas to get there but it was something. I guess, for the sake of transparency, there is one more thing I have to talk about while we’re talking about this time in the band’s life.

Steve and I spent a lot of time writing music together. It was great, being able to get close. I thought we were becoming friends. He was still a bit hung up, though and one night, when we were up late writing at his tiny apartment, he kissed me. And I kissed him back.

The next day, I told him that that couldn’t happen again. I gave him my reasons and he respected that but still, I could tell he was crushed. I think that between the kiss and us having this talk, he had begun to hope that something would happen between us.

I think that’s what made me and Jonathan hurt him so much more. 

1982

You didn’t necessarily like Murray when you first began to work with him but you did trust him. In the professional capacity at least. He never tried anything with you, which you appreciated although that bar was abysmally low.

You hadn’t known what to expect on your first day in the studio but you had a feeling that as far as the music was considered, you were in decent hands.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

The moment you had stepped into the studio, Murray had handed you a stack of music, all unfamiliar and definitely nothing you had written.

“What’s this?” You had asked, eyes crinkling in confusion.

“A few contenders for an EP. The team over at marketing came up with some branding concepts and this is what we landed on.”

He then pulled out a thick folder overflowing with pictures of what you assumed the studio had wanted to mold you into. It was all bubblegum and teased hair and not at all what you had envisioned.

“Wait, Murray, I don’t understand.  I have a brand, one that I've spent a lot of time curating along. This isn't me and this is definitely not my music.  You said I could sing the music that I’ve written.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Murray hummed, condescendingly, “I never said that.”

“Well, if I can’t sing my music then I just won’t sing at all.” You were the full image of a petulant child, arms crossed and lips dangerously close to a pout.

Murray feigned concern for a moment before hunching down so that he was at eye level with you.

“You signed a contract,” he spoke slowly, “Starcourt owns you, and if you don’t like it, then talk to a judge.”

He turned away from you, leaning against the mixing console. He speaks again after what seems like an eternity.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not saying it’s ethical or right, but if you want to make it in music, you got to play the game. You can’t come in here, swinging your metaphorical dick around, calling the shots when you haven’t proven you can rake in the dough.

“Sure, you’ve got talent, but who doesn’t? Right now, there’s a line of girls around the block who can sing and write and are probably better at following directions, waiting to take your spot.

"Plus, I read the songs you sent over, you have some good lines but there's not a single song worth attaching Starcourt's name to. Take this as an opportunity to learn, to be better, to actually work for something for the first time in your life. You have nothing right now, so nothing is below you, not even this pop dribble they're giving you to sing.

"I’m not saying it’s always gonna be this way, but you have to prove to them that you can play before they take you seriously, and then if you got what it takes, you can start writing your own music. Hell, if you make them enough money, they’ll let you play the fucking didgeridoo and go out in a nun’s habit… well, maybe not the habit, but the point stands. So, can we stop acting like the spoiled princess we are for just one afternoon and get to rehearsing?”

You snatched the book of songs from his outstretched hand and with a smile on your face, tore it down the middle before stomping off.

It had taken five days of Murray, along with various other executives at Starcourt, pounding on your door at the Chateau Mormont—the hotel that was your permanent residence since you had turned 18— before you had even considered setting foot in Starcourt again.

All it took was a gift basket full of Champagne and half a dozen threatening letters from their legal team.

***

NANCY: Jonathan came on as our second guitarist. I remember when he came to the audition he was this quiet, super shy kid who barely managed to make eye contact, but once he had a guitar in his hands, he had this way of coming alive. He wasn’t a showman like Steve, but he was electric when he played.

We—I never meant for things to turn out the way they did but with Jonathan, it wasn’t much of a choice. I know this sounds so cliche, but we were drawn to each other. I remember, during rehearsals, even before we really knew each other, he and I would lock eyes from across the room and I would know exactly what he was thinking.

Soon, we were sneaking around together. We were getting more and more serious, it was only a matter of time, honestly, before the others found out. Jonathan wanted to come clean early on, he could tell it was causing me so much stress, but I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Part of it, was Steve, of course, but also, what Jonathan and I had felt precious and personal and ours. I wanted to stay in this bubble we had built for ourselves.

Of course, it was Steve and Robin who eventually caught us, making out in Jonathan’s car after rehearsals one day.

To say that Steve took it hard is probably an understatement. He skipped rehearsal for five straight days and when he showed up he had this new song he had written, this ballad called, “Regret You”.

“If I never had you, then why can’t I forget you / I hate myself because I could never regret you.”

Yeah, that was an awkward one to rehearse but, to his credit, it was a great song. It was the song that got us noticed.

1982

You had spent months recording your first EP, a five-song collection the studio had decided to name “The Setlist”. It was meant to be a play on your groupie status, or at least that’s what some intern over in the marketing department had claimed, a little too proud of himself for your liking.

While you couldn't ignore the sense of accomplishment that bubbled below the surface, you mostly felt empty. 

The whole thing made you think of your father, whom you hadn't spoken to in years but had a very staunch view on artistic integrity. He despised artists who 'carelessly churned out poor imitations of real art for money'.  "To make art is as close as one can get to being god," he had explained to you once, with self-important tears in his eyes, "why would anyone sell that off? Art should mean something to the artist. Otherwise, they are a peddler of fake divinity." 

Your father had never had to worry about money a day in his life. 

That empty feeling was only exacerbated when, the Friday after you had officially finished recording, Murray had invited you to lunch with a particular proposition in mind.

“No, Murray, not gonna happen. Over my dead body and all that,” you spat from across the table.

“Listen, I don’t want to pull the contract card on you, but I will,” he warned with no real heat as he swirled his gin martini in one hand.

“Nice try,” you mirrored his pose, martini and all, “but the contract doesn't cover this, only original work. Not duets. You know that, I know that, so why don’t you try again and give me one good reason why I would even consider a duet with The Letterman’s.”

Murray gave you a look you had come to familiarize yourself with—one that was equal measures of pride and annoyance. It was the look he gave you whenever you bested him.

“How about the fact that they’re one of the hottest acts right now and being on a track with them would guarantee you a spot on the charts which is a great place to be at any point in time, but especially when you’re about to release an EP?”

Your face dropped in the way it only did when you knew Murray was right about something you didn’t want him to be right about. A look he had been starting to familiarize himself with.

"Fine, I’ll do it, but I want to spend as little time as possible with Jason. He’s a pompous ass.” “No disagreements there, sweetheart.”

The day you were scheduled to record with Jason and the rest of his band, he was an hour late. You hadn’t doubted for a moment he had done this on purpose.

When he finally had shown, he pretended not to know you, a game you had quickly caught on to, and made sure to respond with, “It’s so nice to meet you, Jackson” after he made a show of introducing himself to you which made the rest of his band and Murray guffaw.

Jason narrowed his eyes at you, his voice struggling to stay level, and said, “Watch it. We’re the ones doing you a favor here, remember?”

“I did you one first,” you responded, your eyes meeting his gaze, “remember?”

It had taken 20 minutes for his bandmates to calm him down, but eventually, the two of you got into the booth.

Your only priority had been to do your best job in as few takes as possible because you did not know how much longer you could tolerate being in Jason’s presence.

In the end, after a two-hour session, Murray had sent you both home, either happy with the finished product or at his wit’s end with the tension. Either way, three weeks later you had a duet with The Letterman’s called “It Was You” and just as Murray had predicted, it was quick to climb the charts.

You were getting noticed.

***

NANCY: Not long after Steve wrote “Regret You” we got noticed by a scout from Starcourt Records. I think at first we thought it was some sort of scheme, but it was legit. They had us record a few demos and in something like six months, they moved us to a house in Culver City.

The whole thing had felt like some sort of fever dream. I had to quit school and tell my parents. They didn’t even know I was in a band. Or seeing anybody. Needless to say, they didn’t take any of it well. When we got to LA, we did more test recordings and they even had us playing some shows at a few clubs on the strip.

Like I said: total fever dream.

But, when you’re under the thumb of a label like that, there are certain stipulations. One of the first things they told us was that they wanted to make our sound more modern and pop. We kinda

had an alternative, experimental sound back then. They said synth was going to be the new thing so they wanted Robin to learn how to play the synthesizer which meant that on certain songs, Jonathan would have to take over for bass. Also, they wanted Steve to be more of a frontman and less of a guitar player. Steve could always work a crowd, and they wanted to use that, especially with this new sound they had envisioned for us. All of this meant we needed another guitar player and, believe it or not, the label already knew who that was going to be. Eddie Munson.

***

EDDIE: Okay, here we go.

 I’m Eddie Munson, lead guitar for The Downsides.

 I  grew up trailer trash in some town that no one’s ever heard of. My mom died when I was eight and my dad was in and out of jail pretty much my entire life--well, until those royalty checks started rolling in, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

  People always use the dead mom/jailbird dad thing to either turn me into a sob story or villainize me, so I generally tend to avoid talking about it but since it's you, I'll say this: the thing I remember most about my mother is her absence and there is not a single redeeming thing about ole' Munson Sr. but I don't think they're responsible for any of the ways I've fucked up over the years. Nah, kid, that was all me.

Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?

At the tender age of ten, I was gifted an old beat-up guitar by my uncle. Clearly, something he had picked up at the local Goodwill to try and keep me occupied and out of trouble. The neighbors hated us after. They hated us, even more, when it turned out that I could actually play.

When I was 18, Uncle Wayne got the idea that I was ready to commit to a life of indentured servitude over at the factory and that did not sit well with me, at all. I wanted to be a musician. But, instead of talking to him about it, you know, like a rational person? I just ran.

I sold my van and got a one-way ticket to LA. The metal scene was starting to pop up on the strip and music—metal—was the only thing I was good at, so I thought, ‘what the hell!’ and booked it. I slummed it for a few months and then, through some stroke of luck, I heard about a band that was auditioning for a new guitar player since their last one got hitched and quit. The Metal Gods smiled down on me the day of the audition because that same afternoon they called me back and told me they wanted me on as lead guitar.

1982

“It Was You”, your duet with The Letterman’s peaked at number 6 on Billboard’s Top 100 in October of 1982.

Suddenly, everyone wanted you to be featured in their songs. Your EP did well enough, but it didn’t even crack the top 30. That didn’t keep you from being the hot new thing on the scene and a

huge part of that was your reputation.

Of course, people knew who you were because of your groupie days, and you unintentionally built a reputation for being romantically involved with different musicians. So, when you broke out on the scene with a romantic duet, people started talking, and the tabloids began to spin stories about you and Jason being romantically linked which only caused a buzz for the song. You, of course, hated this and vehemently denied being involved with Jason to anyone who would listen. Jason, meanwhile, played it coy with the press, only fueling the rumors and your rage.

“Listen, I hate the guy as much as you do, sweetheart, but you got to respect the strategy,” Murray had said after hearing you gripe about one particularly salacious headline.

Before the year was through, you had been featured in five other duets. All with male artists. All resulting in more and more outlandish dating rumors. And all enjoying a lengthy stay on the top of the charts.

Starcourt had begun to push you to take it a step further and Brenner had asked for Murray to arrange outings between you and whatever male artist you were collaborating with. The meetings—you refused to call them dates—were always somewhere that was strategically public, somewhere where there was always at least one paparazzi with their cameras locked and ready. The pictures they would take would always make it to at least one gossip magazine, which resulted in even more publicity for the song.

Your partners—you refused to call them dates—were, at their best, cordial and business-like, one or two of them even asked for your permission before holding your hand. At their worst, though, they were handsy, entitled, and rude. None of them ever tried to ask you out on a real date and you weren't sure what that said about you.

Soon you were racking up duets and notoriety in equal measures. Radio DJs would make jokes about you every time they would play one of your songs—and they played your songs a lot. Once, while you were walking around Rodeo, a woman stopped you in the middle of the street and told you, very brazenly, that you needed to stop sleeping around so much. Before you could even tell her off, though, she proceeded to gush about how much she loved your duet with The Letterman's.

It seemed like everyone seemed to see you in a similar light though: they thought you were some sort of despicable maneater but all they wanted was more of a reason to talk about how you were a despicable maneater.

Murray had his work cut out for him, “We just need to find a way for you to have this same buzz all the time.”

***

EDDIE: Things started to pick up with Corroded Coffin. We were playing shows pretty much every night.  As I said, metal was on the rise and we were at the forefront. Eventually, record label bigwigs had no choice but to acknowledge that.

Some of them got smart and started poaching bands early on, like Starcourt. Corroded Coffin signed with them in ‘82. We thought we were hot shit after that.

There’s a certain lifestyle that goes along with that, though, you know? A reputation that you have to uphold.

I'm not trying to make excuses for myself here, trust me. I'm just...trying to explain myself.

People always love to talk shit. They'll call you all sorts of names before they see you as an actual person. Trust me, I would know. But, these interviews are an opportunity to set the record straight, to finally be seen as an actual person.

So, there I was, a nineteen-year-old kid from Bumfuck nowhere, finally making it big, finally feeling like I belonged somewhere--like for the first time I wasn't a freak whose mom died or some trailer trash high school dropout--of course, I was gonna get swept up in it all. Of course, I was going to start picking up the bad habits and doing drugs. There was no one there to tell me otherwise.

It started out as something to get us through the madness that was our schedule: between the live shows and the studio time, we needed uppers just to keep us on our feet. Then, obviously, you needed the downers so you could fucking relax because the uppers made you so tense. 

I stopped enjoying the drugs pretty early on, but at that point quitting wasn't something that I was willing to put that much effort into. 

1983

The first time someone asked for your autograph, you were at a show at Whiskey a Go Go. Murray, acting as a sort of manager, had set up a photo opp with Charles Riva, your latest duet partner. He hadn’t shown that night but you never walked away from a live show.

Two girls, not much younger than you, appeared behind you as you were ordering at the bar and tapped you on the shoulder.

“See, I told you it was her,” the shorter one, a strawberry blonde with severe bangs whispered excitedly to her friend, a taller brunette.

Before you could ask either of them exactly what they wanted, the strawberry blonde spoke again, “Can we have your autograph?”

You could only nod dumbly as they handed you a cocktail napkin and a pen. You tried to think of something meaningful to write, but in your shock, could only come up with “Best wishes, xoxo”. You didn’t even ask them their names. The best you could do was offer to buy them a drink, which they happily accepted.

You regretted the offer as soon as you registered how young they looked underneath all that makeup, an observation that made you unsettlingly sad. You were reminded of your first days on the Strip: lonely and young and wanting someone to notice you for the right reasons.

Your thoughts became too heavy to deal with at that particular moment and you abruptly excused yourself, leaving the two confused girls behind. A shame, you thought to yourself, in another life you might’ve all been friends, but no one really wants to be your friend these days. They just want to tell people they’re your friends. Walking away saves everyone the disappointment.

You needed a drink.

By the time the main act had taken the stage, your vision had started to haze at the edges as a result of the multiple drinks you had procured for yourself. You watched, half-interested as a band you’d never heard of, Corroded Coffin took the stage, your eyes tracing after each member, eyeing the things only a fellow musician would: the models of equipment they had, the way the band queued each other up.

You didn't know enough about metal yet to know whether you'd consider yourself a fan or not but even with the little familiarity you have, you can tell this band is good. Their playing is unpolished but overflowing with energy and the crowd is feeding into it, screaming the lyrics along with the lead singer.

All of it reminds you of your first show at the Strip—what seemed ages ago—and that memory summons a whole other thought entirely: the reason that you had gotten into music was to actually make music you liked, not to be a topic of discussion in a gossip magazine, getting no say in the music you created.

You don't even remember the last time you had even written a lyric.

You think to yourself that maybe you should wander backstage after the show, like you once did and talk to the band. Maybe you could pick their brains about songwriting. They clearly didn’t care about mass appeal if they were making metal music which means they were probably doing it for the art.

At the very least they probably had a decent stash of pills.

Either way, it would be worth it.

***

EDDIE: It was pretty much love, at first sight, the moment I saw her in the crowd that night at Whiskey a Go Go. I remember seeing her for the first time halfway through our set and it was like I went blind for a moment. I had completely forgotten what I was doing, I think I even missed a cue. After the show, I made a beeline for the bar where she was standing, trying to act as cool as I could but I was shitting it.

***

Once that band had wrapped up, you made your way to the dressing rooms. You maneuvered to the dressing rooms like you had dozens of times before, but the band wasn’t there.

You milled about for a bit, before growing bored and leaving wondering if maybe they had seen you coming and left.

***

EDDIE: I ordered a drink just as an excuse to get closer and it worked. She was even more beautiful up close and so, so kind. Told me she loved our show and even pointed out specific guitar solos of mine that she liked. She always had a way of making you feel special like that. Chrissy Fucking Cunningham. Even her name was perfect, not a syllable too few or too many.

I asked her for her number that night and we went on a date two days later, I could hardly keep it.

together having to wait two days to see her again. Then, after a few weeks, we were going steady, as the kids say. It was perfect. I never really had anyone to myself, you know? She was the first person that ever made me feel seen and cared about.

I remember one time; she was hanging out at my place while the band was in the studio. When I came back, she had done all my laundry. When I asked her why she had done that, she just said “I dunno, just because” then, all of a sudden there were tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like that for me “just because".

My life had never been better--so of course, I fucked it up.

***

While you did not manage to meet Corroded Coffin, you couldn’t stop thinking about them, even days later. It was like seeing them play had awoken you from a daze you didn’t even know you had been in.

You spend a few days getting incredibly drunk by the pool after that. But no matter how much you drank or how many pretty dresses you bought yourself or how many pill you took, you could not shake the feeling.

A few mornings later, you had called Murray, “This stops now, Murray. No more duets or features or whatever else. I want to meet with Brenner. I want to do this my way.”

Murray, not used to being awake so early, gave a weak attempt at talking you down.

“No,” you urged on, “you said once I started making money, I could have a say. Well, now I’m making money and I’m tired of Starcourt just using me for that. So, I want something permanent and I want to write my own music, got it?”

“You have a contract,” Murray parroted back, half-heartedly.

“Yes, I do, and I plan to honor that contract but so help me God I will make life a living hell for you and for Brenner and any other exec that tries to get me to do another duet with Jason fucking Carver. In fact, I will find a way to lose Starcourt money if you don’t get me out of this. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Great, I’ll see you at lunch Murray.”

He signed, “See you then.”

***

EDDIE: My drug use was getting more out of hand. Chrissy hated it, but I couldn't bring myself to quit. Especially the things that I thought I needed to make it through the day.

Chrissy was a saint throughout the whole thing, until one night when she caught me in the dressing room of Whiskey with a girl who was not her. She walked away and I don’t really blame her. Out of all the regrets of my life—and trust me, kid—that was one of the biggest.

She moved out that day and refused to take my calls, moved in with one of her friends and I spent days just calling her, sending her flowers, the works.

She told me she wouldn’t budge unless I got clean. So, I checked myself into rehab. She was a good enough reason to quit. 45 days later, I checked out, clean as a motherfucking whistle.

Chrissy was gone though, I had no clue where she had disappeared to, but wherever she went, she didn’t want me to find her.

On top of that, my band was fucking pissed. I left the band for 45 days without telling anyone, right as we were finishing recording our debut album. Yeah, they weren’t happy. I was in something called “breach of contract” with the suits over at record label and they wanted to take me to court, and not the Star kind.

I definitely didn’t have lawsuit type of money back then, so it was in my best interest to work something out with Starcourt and jump back on fulfilling my contract. Problem was, Corroded Coffin didn’t want me back anymore, even though the guy they replaced me with wasn’t half as good as I was.

I thought that because my old band didn’t want me, that meant that I would be free of my contract. I was wrong. What actually happened was that my fate was then put into Starcourt’s hands and they could place me in whatever podunk production or band they wanted. They owned my ass.

And that’s how I ended up with The Downsides.

PLAY NEXT TRACK

[forlix]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

omg how fun, thank u for sending this in nonnie !!! let me see...

@astraystayyh and hyunjin would have to be some 800k ao3 slow burn about forbidden love between royal families ... the grandest and most poetic of period drama romances that persists through backstabbing and betrayal and trial after tribulation. nothing less for my artistic soulmates

the first tropes to come to mind for @rachalixie and minho are literally just. not even really tropes. established relationship. domestic fluff. slice of life. they're That Couple. nobody remembers when they weren't together. they invite me over for dinner when i've had a bad day. mom and dad

@like-a-diamondinthesky and seungmin are the EPITOME of (fake) enemies to lovers. they're the sweetest, silliest, most sinister people and i just know their dynamic would be a dream come true for each other and a nightmare for everyone else

sue is just her "eighteen" mc in my head so @soobnny and seungmin scream best friends to lovers + college au to me. seung being the best cheerleader for her while she's crazy busy :') also she flusters v easily and i think he'd get a kick out of that (ik i do)

@luvtak and felix are giving childhood friends to lovers! the sort of relationship where they know each other better than they've ever known anything; really just the safest, warmest, and kindest of affections for the safest, warmest, and kindest of people

i'm gonna cheat again and hc @sunboki and chan as a trope from august's mafia au "korea's most wanted"; augs is so creative and badass and SEXY and so is the main couple's dynamic in that fic. chan's a lucky man. DITCH HIM FOR ME 🗣️

@txtxlz and jeongin would be a multipart messy love triangle ft. jealousy and pining and so much chaos bc haz has more biases than i have fingers or toes and i love love the idea of her favorite idols going to war over her. it's what my baby deserves fr

for @2baabbies and felix, i imagine perhaps a barista au or a librarian au (hehehehe) where he finds stupid excuses to come back and pick bae's brain every day because he's utterly enraptured by her. she has that effect on people and lix would NOT be immune

@starsandrqindrops and seungmin are so fwb-coded. think suffocating chemistry every time they interact. could cut the tension with a dull machete. then inevitably complications like Feelings come into play and they dance around each other for ages before finally giving in ... mm yes all that good stuff

last but not least, @hyunnie04 and hyunjin would be so perfect for an art school!au. mira is an incredible artist so i'm picturing these two sketching each other instead of paying attention in class ,,, gallery/museum dates ,,,, maybe a sprinkle of healthy competition who knows ,,,,

[callsignangel]

nga yawne lu oer - lo'ak x metkayina! reader

THIS IS ENDING 1/2 FROM MY NETEYAM/LO'AK LOVE TRIANGLE HEADCANONS. READ THEM HERE. word count: 1571 requested by: a lot of people (thank you to those who read part one!) warnings: angst, tonowari being a great dad, a fluffy happy ending a/n: hi friends! since there's going to be two different endings depending on which sully boy you're rooting for, i won't be tagging anyone. that way, you can read a specific ending written especially for you! this was so much fun to write, and thank you for your patience as i've been trying to write this haha. reblogs and feedback about my work are deeply appreciated. <3

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

you had begun distancing yourself from the sully family as a whole, even your other best friend kiri. it was just too much for you to face both lo’ak and neteyam. it hurt you to see lo’ak and tsireya together - laughing, free diving, holding hands, watching her teach him how to be more active with the people of your village so he could finally feel like he was a part of the metkayina and not an outcast. she was finishing what you had started with him. 

eventually, your parents started picking up on your struggle. you weren’t diving as much, you stayed in bed most of the time, and you were quiet when you were helping your mom cook or doing any of your other household chores. tonowari was the first to approach you about how you had been feeling. he could see that you weren’t acting like yourself anymore, and it worried him. it worried them both. your were legs dangling off of your family marui, dancing with the bright coloured glowy fish. deeply lost in thought, he sat down beside you and dipped his feet in too. “parultsyìp, you have been distant lately,” “i know, pa. forgive me.”  you really thought he was disappointed in you and your lack of motivation for your village duties,  but he wasn’t. he knew the pressures of being a child of the olo'eyktan were not easy. “i’m not mad. i’m just making sure you’re okay. it’s not like you to be so solitary,” a lump formed in your throat. you hadn’t spoken about that night to anyone, not even to eywa. he watched your face closely, as you stared between the fidgeting of your hands and the fish kissing at your feet.  “if i tell you what’s been going on, you can’t tell tsireya. it would break her heart,” you spoke finally. tears welled in your eyes, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “are you in trouble? is it that sully boy?” his eyebrows furrowed in concern as his embrace became stiff. you laughed dryly. “it’s both, pa. i love them both, and now i’ve lost them both,” you softly sobbed. “maybe this is a conversation for your mother…” you had never confided in him like this. he was nervous and relieved at the same time.  “no, please… you just have to listen. mom will scold me for even being around lo’ak.” it hurt your heart to even say his name. “they didn’t do anything to you, did they..?” “no, pa. they would never. they’re both good kids. lo’ak’s just.. misunderstood. and i think the pressure to be perfect wears neteyam down, like it wears me down sometimes.” he nodded sympathetically. he admired your heart, always empathizing with everyone in your own way.

before you could continue, the sound of laughter came from behind your marui. you and tonowari looked behind to see lo’ak and tsireya walking by, hand in hand. “hi, y/n!” tsireya greeted cheerfully. when she got a closer look, her smile immediately dropped.  “tsmuktu, what’s wrong? what happened?” he crouched down to get to your level as one of her hands caressed your tear stained face, the other holding onto your hand tightly. you assured her that everything was okay and that you were just tired, but you saw the way your father stared at lo’ak. he finally understood why you had been so downcast. “go have fun, sister. i’ll speak with you later. thank you for checking on me,” you faked your best smile as you released the hand she had a death grip on and ushered lo’ak to keep walking. his eyes lingered on you before focusing back onto tsireya.  you had gone back to focusing on the fish. “i will do better, pa. i promise.” he nodded softly before he pulled your head towards his, foreheads resting against eachother.

slowly and surely, as time passed, you became yourself again. getting up early to dive and hunt, going for your evening walks along the beach during eclipse, even seeing kiri and tuk again. as an apology for secluding yourself from them without explanation, you provided them with gifts. handmade paint made from shells for tuk, and a bag made from woven seagrass for kiri. but of course, being around them also meant you had to be around lo’ak and neteyam. “he misses you,” neteyam said one day. it was a rainy day in the sully’s marui, and you had been over to help neytiri and the other girls with their beading. you stopped working and looked up at him. he didn’t falter, instead kept his eyes on his chores.  “i miss you,” he whispered. “teyam-” you started, but he turned away from you. “i know, i know. i couldn’t not tell you that. he would never admit it, but he misses you more than he lets on. everybody was so confused when he was suddenly with tsireya and not you.” you frowned, everything he was saying suddenly came out of nowhere. “why are you bringing this up now?” you questioned. “it’s okay you didn’t choose me. i’m not mad at you. but i would much rather be your friend than not have you in my life at all,” he turned to look at you, sincerity strewn his face like a veil. he took your hands in his. “lo’ak didn’t choose tsireya. he chose you, and everybody knows it. he’s just a skxawng who feels like he can’t communicate properly because no one will listen to him,” the pouring rain almost drowned him out, his voice was so soft. “but you do. he needs you. go to him, y/n.”

you didn’t have to be told twice. you thanked neteyam quickly, giving him a small kiss on his cheek before you dropped everything to go find lo’ak. the rain was dense and cold, but you couldn’t feel it. this new found fire that spread throughout your body made you run faster than it ever had before. to your surprise, he wasn’t with tsireya at your marui. she was sitting by the campfire stowed in the middle of your living space, wrapped in a shawl. she kept sniffling and wiping her face with her shawl. “reya? what’s wrong?” you dropped to your knees beside her, instantly trying to console her. she shook her head, as if trying to dismiss it. “i ended things with lo’ak. i could tell he wasn’t happy.” you pulled her into a tight hug. “i’m sorry, sister. is there anything i can do for you?” she sniffled again, but this time a soft smile brightened her features. “go get your man,” she giggled.  you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “what?” you giggled with her, nervously. “i’m not an idiot, y/n. go. go!” she urged you, standing and pulling you up with her. she practically pushed you out of your marui. 

you found him by the water, tending to his ilu’s saddle. his hair was wet, and he was shivering. “it’s raining, and you’re outside with nothing keeping you warm,” you startled him, almost making him fall into the water. he was surprised to see you, he didn’t think you would come back around after all of the hurt he caused you. “i don’t have anything. i didn’t think it rained here,” he said sheepishly. “i’ll make you something. it’s the beginning of rainy season, you’ll need a sweater or even a shawl at least for the next 5 months,” you laughed, trying to ease the awkwardness of the conversation. you sat down beside him, watching him try to clean and restitch his saddle.  “you don’t have to,” he whispered. he wouldn’t even look at you. he was afraid he would crumble under your stare.  “i want to,” you whispered back. you placed your hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. your touch felt like fire to him. it was exhilarating. his eyes watery, he looked up at you.  “i thought i had lost you to him. i feel like i lose everything to him,” his transparency wasn’t foreign to you, but it was good to hear him open up to you again. you placed your other hand in his hair, playing with it in an attempt to help console him. “you’ve never lost me, lo’ak. i’ve been here this entire time,” you whispered. you pulled his head towards yours, softly resting your forehead against his. “i love you. i would never abandon you. i swear by the great mother, lo’ak. i love you, and i see you.” he pulled away from you, a goofy grin on his face. “took you long enough,” he joked, and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly like you always did at his stupid jokes. his free hand rested on your face as he watched you. to him, you were the most beautiful thing on pandora. “i love you too, y/n.”

his hand moved to your chin, using his thumb and his index finger to pull you into a soft kiss. it was quick and chaste, before he shifted back to kiss the palm that had practically glued itself to his face. you pushed yourself forward, your lips devouring his in a desperate attempt to feel him again. there were probably other families watching you both from their homes, but you didn’t care. he was yours, you were his. and nothing would ever come between the two of you again.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

parultsyìp - a term of affection for children tsmuktu - sibling

[weirdkpopgirl]

Timing | Jeno Fic #2

Title: Timing

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of divorce

Word Count: ~4k

Author's Note: The original idea for this story sort of just sprang on me. It's basically a best friends to lovers story gone wrong. I personally really enjoy sad stories, but I apologize if this story frustrates any of you. Hope you guys like it and thank you for reading ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Jeno remembered the first day he met you quite vividly. You had moved into the neighborhood just two weeks before seventh grade started. However, he had only gotten a glimpse of you once when you accompanied your mother to give rice cakes to his mom. The next time he encountered you was at school, where the two of you found yourselves in the same homeroom. But being the introverted individuals you were, Jeno stuck to his close-knit circle of friends, and you didn’t so much as give a glance in his direction. 

The first time he officially talked to you happened at the convenience store. He had just gotten out of school and wanted to buy a snack before he had to go to hagwon. As he was walking toward the refrigerated section, you entered the store with the same idea in mind. The prospect of enjoying your favorite kimbap after a long day of school seemed like the perfect way to lift your spirits.

However, as you approached the aisle, you noticed Jeno reaching for the last triangle kimbap on the shelf. Almost immediately, you let out a defeated sigh that came out louder than intended. Jeno’s eyes met yours in a split second and awkwardness quickly filled the air.

Even though he was shy around new people, Jeno managed a sheepish smile. “Uh, hi.”

“Hello,” you mumbled in reply, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Your gaze involuntarily returned to the kimbap in his hand, feeling torn between your craving and your natural reserve. Jeno must’ve been able to pick up on the inner conflict in your demeanor. Before you could step back, he held the snack out to you.

“You can take it if you want,” he offered.

You looked at him with wide eyes and promptly shook your head. “Oh—no, you don’t have to do that! I can just pick something else, it’s no big deal.”

Despite your protest, the boy moved forward and placed the kimbap in your hand, catching you off guard.

“It’s fine,” he reassured with a warm smile. “I didn’t really want it anyway.”

He walked away, leaving you feeling terribly guilty, even though he had willingly given it to you. Reluctantly, as you went to check out, you couldn’t stop thinking about that encounter. So when you spotted him outside after purchasing, you impulsively tapped on his shoulder. He turned around in surprise when you held out a carton of banana milk. 

“Please, take this,” you said, ignoring the internal struggle between your heart and your mind. “I feel bad about earlier.”

The boy smiled as he accepted the drink. “Thanks…Kim (Y/n),” he said, glancing at the name tag on your uniform.

You smiled back shyly, and he then asked if you were going to hagwon too. When you found out you attended the same one, Jeno suggested walking together. 

And just like that, you and Jeno soon became best friends. Throughout middle school, the two of you were inseparable. He got you to join his friend group at lunch, and you started inviting him over for dinner at your house. Some days you guys ditched the hagwon and went to play arcade games instead. Those three years were filled with so many fond memories.

However, your once entirely platonic friendship took a subtle shift when high school began. It was a natural thing for kids your age to start crushing on one another and getting into relationships that lasted a month at most. You just happened to fall for your best friend, which was something you never saw coming until it did.

Little did you know that Jeno had been crushing on you long before you had. From that first day at the convenience store, the shy kindness you showed him made him certain there was something special about you. It wasn’t until the end of ninth grade that he realized why his heart fluttered whenever you laughed at something he said, or why he couldn’t stop smiling after you hugged him.

Maybe there was a part of you both that sensed this unspoken connection between you. Or maybe you didn’t. Regardless, there were never any outright confessions. 

Jeno was the most secure presence in your life. He was there when you fell to the ground after he tried teaching you how to ride a bike. When your parents got divorced, he was right by your side and took you out almost every day because he knew you didn’t want to be at home. For such a long time, he’s been there for both the significant and insignificant events in your life. He was someone you couldn’t bear to lose, and you weren’t willing to jeopardize your friendship because of potentially unwanted feelings.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno felt the same way. The stability and comfort you both shared were already so great to him. He believed that revealing his feelings might burden you, and he didn’t want that to happen. If remaining your friend meant staying close to you, Jeno was okay with that.

At least, he thought he was.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The two of you couldn’t be happier when you both got accepted into NCIT. Jeno saw going to college with you as a potential opportunity to finally express his feelings (although the other part of him fought against it). You, on the other hand, entered freshman year with the hopes of leaving your crush on Jeno in the past. He’d probably never feel the same, you thought, and your friends had advised you numerous times to move on from him.

Although a part of you was hesitant about pulling away from Jeno who was practically your first love, you knew deep down that they were right. You thought that as long as you and he stayed friends, everything would be fine. You weren’t a teenager anymore, and it was time for you to live as an adult.

At the beginning of freshman year, you and Jeno mostly stuck together as you always had. But eventually, the two of you integrated into your own friend groups and the demands of classes took precedence. Despite this shift, you remained close as ever, frequently meeting up at the library to do homework and hanging out on the weekends.

With all the time you spent together, it was only natural that you became acquainted with his friends. They were all nice to you and often begged you to come out for drinks together. Somehow, Jeno didn’t expect one of his closest friends and roommate to take notice of you.

“Hey Jeno, can I ask you something?” Jaemin asked one day in the locker room of the campus gym. It had become a weekly routine for them to work out together in the evening.

Jeno nodded, not giving it much thought. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You don’t happen to have feelings for (Y/n), do you?” the male then asked, causing Jeno to pause when he bent over to tie his shoes.

Recovering quickly, Jeno played off his surprise with a chuckle. “What? No, we’re just friends. I don’t really see her that way.”

Jeno didn’t know why he was lying. Perhaps it was because the other guys constantly teased him about being so obvious about his feelings for you, and it secretly aggravated him.

Jaemin let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. I didn’t want to make any moves if you were interested.”

“You like her?” Jeno gave the male a questioning gaze, pretending to occupy himself by bringing out his duffel bag. Other than you, Jaemin was the second person he spent the most time with. He wondered how he hadn’t caught on to Jaemin liking you before.

A dreamy smile appeared on his friend’s face. “I just think she’s pretty cute, you know? Kinda quiet and reserved. She’s a little bit of a mystery, which I like in a girl.”

Jeno unconsciously found himself gripping the strap of his bag tighter than usual. He didn’t like hearing other guys talk about what they found attractive about you. But Jaemin was his friend, and he couldn’t talk back to him.

“So are you going to ask her out?” he asked, though he secretly didn’t want to hear the answer.

Jaemin gave him a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know yet. I’ve just been thinking about her lately.”

“Oh, okay,” he mumbled quietly. Jaemin patted him on the shoulder as they headed out of the gym building. 

Though he kept trying to suppress his feelings and insist that things were fine, deep down, Jeno knew they were not.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

In the days that followed, Jeno observed the gradual change happening between his two best friends. At first, you were unsure of what to think when Jaemin started sitting by you at lunch and offering to walk to class together. You knew you shared some classes, and that he was a good friend of Jeno’s. However, you found his increased presence to be unfathomable. 

Na Jaemin was one of those guys who were so devastatingly attractive, that girls couldn’t help but stop to look at him. He seemed like the type you’d see hanging out with the popular kids. Unlike you—a boring creative writing major who usually kept to herself.

One day, curiosity got the better of you and you worked up the courage to ask him why he kept wanting to spend time with you. When you asked, he simply smiled.

“Because you’re a nice person to be around,” he told you. “There’s never a look of judgment when I talk to you, and you can be funny when you want to.”

After he said that, you realized that Jaemin was genuinely a good guy with not a single trace of bad intentions. So when he officially confessed his feelings a few days later, you decided to give him a chance.

The day after that happened, Jeno and you went back to your hometown for the weekend. You were sitting in your old bedroom, eyes fixating on the lilac-colored wall. When you first moved in, all the rooms in your house were a somber gray color. But you didn’t change the color of your room until a year or two later.

Jeno was the one who chose this light shade of purple for your room. When you asked why that one specifically, he said it just reminded him of you. He even came over to help your father paint. You remembered laughing uncontrollably when he accidentally stepped his foot into the paint bucket.

You shifted your focus to him, who was sitting at the other end of the bed using a light green ball of yarn to crochet. You couldn’t help but smile in amusement, thinking back to when you suggested the two of you pick up crocheting as a hobby not too long ago. Jeno was initially reluctant about it, and yet he ended up becoming more invested than you. Although he made you swear never to tell the guys, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

“Jaemin asked me out on a date,” you sort of blurted out, breaking the comfortable silence between you. Until now, you hadn’t told anyone about it.

Jeno peered up from what he was doing, a little shocked by this news. He didn’t know why, especially when Jaemin literally told him he was interested in you.

Suppressing the sting in his chest, Jeno forced a smile. “Oh, really? That’s cool.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” you asked, warily. His tone sounded a little too casual to you.

“Of course, I am,” Jeno said, returning to crocheting. “What could be better than my two best friends getting together?”

Maybe you were just overthinking his reaction, you thought to yourself. There was no reason he’d lie to you, right?

You smiled, laying back on your pillow. “Well, it’s just one date. I’m not sure if I’m really into him yet.”

Jeno hummed in reply, trying to stuff down the inner turmoil that stirred within him. He tried not to dwell on it too much. Like you said, it was just one date. 

Nothing too serious could happen so soon, right?

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Yet, Jeno was wrong again. Although he pretended to be happy for you, he was not thrilled when he learned that you did, in fact, have a great time with Jaemin a week later. Before he could even process what was happening, a single date turned into three and it wasn’t long before you and Jaemin became official.

In the beginning, Jeno kept trying to tell himself it was okay. It wasn’t fair of him to be upset when he had told Jaemin it was okay to ask you out. Though he would do almost anything to be in his friend’s place, he had to remind himself that he was only your best friend. 

But it was hard to ignore the sick feeling he got when your group of friends would all hang out together. Jeno had to witness all the loving glances you and Jaemin exchanged, the little giggle from you whenever he whispered something in your ear. It didn’t help that Donghyuck frequently teased the couple for being obnoxiously cute.

The more your relationship with Jaemin blossomed, the more Jeno grappled with his own conflicting emotions. In doing so, he unintentionally started to distance himself. As his best friend, you picked up on this change pretty quickly. He took up such a big portion of your life, that it was impossible not to notice his absence. But you thought if something was bothering Jeno, he’d tell you eventually. That’s how things usually were between you two. 

As time passed, you couldn’t shake the growing sense of insecurity stemming from Jeno’s diminishing presence. Jaemin could tell it was bothering you and even tried to talk to Jeno to see what was up. However, Jeno brushed him off, insisting everything was fine and he had just been busy with school work.

But you knew it couldn’t be just that. Jeno always made time for you, no matter how busy his schedule was. Whenever you tried to text him, he replied with one-word answers and made excuses when you asked to meet up. It felt like Jeno was slowly disappearing from your life, and you had no idea why. 

Fed up, you turned to asking his friend Mark for help. Aware of the strong bond the two of you had, Mark readily agreed. He arranged to meet Jeno somewhere, but instead of him showing up, it was you. That was how you found Jeno sitting on a bench at a park, playing a game as he waited for Mark to arrive. He was quite baffled when he saw walk up to him with a stern gaze.

“Lee Jeno, we need to talk,” you said in a voice he’s never heard you speak in. Your arms were crossed, and your brows were furrowed in anger.

Jeno coughed, slipping his phone to his pocket. “Why, what’s up?”

“‘What’s up?’” You reiterated his words in ridicule. “You blew me off for an entire month and that’s all you have to say?!”

Seeing the hurt look in your eyes caused guilt to strike him, and he let out a small sigh and stood up from the bench. “Look, (Y/n), I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to ignore you like that and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you scoff in disbelief. You were still fuming at the fact that you had to ask his friend, just to meet up with him. 

“You know, I couldn’t stop worrying if something happened or if I upset you somehow,” you said. “So can you please explain why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jeno clarified. “It’s just…”

Even though you knew you should be mad at him right now, watching him hesitate made your anger dissipate. This was Jeno you were talking to, after all, you knew he never meant any harm.

“Just what?” you asked in a gentler tone, placing your hand on his. “You can be honest with me, Jeno.”

He had to collect himself before continuing. This was certainly not the way he imagined telling you his feelings. 

“It’s just…seeing you be all happy with Jaemin was making me upset,” he finally admitted. 

You sighed, “Jeno, it’s okay. You’ll find someone—”

“No, you don’t get it,” Jeno cut you off, frustrated. “The problem is that I like you.”

Your hand on his slowly retracted when he said that. Confusion quickly filled your expression.

“You what?”

Jeno forced himself to meet your gaze. “I like you, (Y/n), more than a friend. I’ve liked you since the day I gave up my kimbap to you. Over the years, I…I’ve just always loved what a genuine person you are. You have such a kind heart, even with all the things you’ve been through.”

You blinked at the male in surprise, trying to grasp his unexpected confession. A part of you didn’t want to believe what you were hearing.

“Jeno…” your voice trailed off. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I was planning to confess this year, But I was so worried about our friendship being ruined,” he said, his words hitting you like a truck. “Then when you and Jaemin started dating, I realized I was too late.”

The weight of unspoken emotions pressed in the air, leaving a heavy silence to hang between the two of you. Your heart wavered, torn by the realization that your previous feelings for Jeno had not been one-sided.

“I had no idea you felt that way,” you said, lowering your gaze. “Funny because I had feelings for you too. But I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

The boy looked up at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I did,” you exhaled, taking a second to let everything sink in. “But…I’m with Jaemin now, and he’s someone I really care about.”

“I know,” Jeno nodded, though the truth in his eyes revealed underlying disappointment. 

Biting your lip, you turned to ask, “So, what happens now?”

Jeno took a moment, his gaze searching the distance. The air was charged with emotions neither of you could easily express. You almost wanted to laugh, thinking of what a messed up situation this was. Everything was so anticlimactic.

“I think we need some time apart,” he suggested the words carrying a weight of resignation. 

He knew this decision was selfish of him, but it was what needed to be done. Jeno loved you, but he feared that being around you knowing your heart belonged to someone else would only make him resentful. 

Although his words were unsettling to hear, you eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

Tightly gripping the strap of your purse, you locked eyes with him one last time. The two of you said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

On your way back to the dorms, you tried your best to hold yourself together. But once you opened the door and found Jaemin sitting on your bed because he had been waiting for your return, you couldn’t help but fall apart.

Attempting to stifle back the sobs proved futile, and this overwhelming sense of loss felt like it was crushing you. You didn’t know why you were so emotional because of this.

Instantly picking up the heaviness when you entered, Jaemin approached you gently. “Hey, what happened?” he asked.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you broke into fresh tears, and Jaemin instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

Through tears, you told him about Jeno’s confession and how the both of you decided not to see each other for the time being. You could tell Jaemin was alarmed by the news, but he was thankful you were honest with him. 

“I just…I just feel like I’ve lost my best friend,” you cried, a fresh wave of sadness washing over you.

Jaemin hugged you tighter and pressed kisses onto your head. He whispered that everything was going to be okay and that you were going to get through this together.

You cried a lot that night, grieving over everything that could’ve happened and didn’t happen. But amid the storm, you found peace in Jaemin’s arms and knew that you would be okay eventually. 

And you hoped Jeno would be too.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Jeno slowly entered the wedding hall, quickly greeted by Mark and Jisung. The gentle hum of conversation and the soft rustle of dresses and suits created an atmosphere of both anticipation and excitement. He took a deep breath before stepping into the room where the bride was taking pictures with guests before the ceremony.

Then he saw you in a simple yet elegant white gown, nervously fidgeting with the bouquet in your hands. Your eyes lit up when you saw Jeno come in, and a small smile played on your lips. “You came.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he smiled back, admiration evident in his eyes. “You look pretty. Na Jaemin is a lucky man.”

Lowering your eyes, you blushed. “Thank you.”

Jeno could tell by the sincerity in your voice, that you were thanking him for more than just the compliment. Memories of his youth with you flooded his mind.

“You know, before we met I was just the quiet kid in school. I didn’t have a lot of friends and just focused on school,” he sighed, “But then you came along and brought some light into my life. In a sense, I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for you.”

The glint in his eyes stirred a mixture of emotions within you. “Thank you for being a part of my life, Kim (Y/n),” he said sincerely.

“Now that I think about it, even in my hardest moments when I was ready to give up on myself, I came out stronger because you were by my side,” you expressed, meeting his gaze.

Exhaling, you blinked back the tears that started to form. “So thank you, for always being there for me, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno’s gaze softened with warmth as he took in your heartfelt words. He gently placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, offering his congratulations once more before excusing himself to join the gathering of guests.

As he observed you walking down the aisle later, a bittersweet emotion swept over him. There was a time in his teenage years when he’d imagine being at the end of the aisle waiting for you. He had it all perfectly planned out in his head.

In that plan, he could see your strong friendship blossom into a great love. He would’ve taken to you all these different places for dates. He thought of all the hugs and kisses that could’ve been shared. He would have proposed to you after getting through college, and he would have spun you around when you said yes. Then he had the rest of his life to look forward to, because you were in it.

But the harsh reality of Jaemin standing beside you instead of him, hit hard. Things just didn’t turn out the way he had hoped.

Nonetheless, seeing the sparkling smile on your face as you took his hand made Jeno realize you were genuinely happy. It had taken a long time for the both of you to reach this point.

Standing there, watching you, Jeno knew that you could’ve found happiness with him. But the timing simply wasn’t right. Now each of you were on your separate paths, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

As he watched you embark on this new chapter, Jeno silently wished you a lifetime of joy and fulfillment, his heart carrying the echoes of what might have been.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

[vole-mon-amour]

You know, I was surprised by the amount of people asking for s4. I understand, it's your favourite show. Mine, too. I'll be devastated if we never see Phil as Jamie again (he's my fav character, can't do anything about it). I'll miss him very very much.

However,

1. I was amazed by the amount of things they got wrong but general audience saying that the finale was perfect and asking for more. We must be watching a very different show.

2. After that AMA with Brendan, I simply don't trust the writers to continue this. In my mind it's a bit of a relief that we're probably not getting more because of the possibility of them ruining it even further.

Sure, one of my fav episodes (Sunflowers, 3x06) was written by Jason S. and Joe Kelly. Brendan was probably involved in some way, but not enough to give him credit for writing and directing it.

International break, 3x10, was written by Jane Becker. There are moments that I dislike, but the entire Uncle day? Roy & Jamie being besties? Roy finding the right words after he sees Jamie giving a nod to Sam that couldn't represent his team? Chef's kiss. I still think the way they handled Roy x Keeley was awful, but still. It was, more or less, a nice episode in my opinion.

Mom city, 3x11, was written by both Jason and Brendan & I absolutely LOVE it for most part (especially if we ignore the entire 'forgive him' thing with Jamie's dad). Jamie-centric episode that I'll always cherish & it's a shame we didn't have more of those. Give Phil all the awards. Love love LOOOVEEE IIITTT. Even better, give Jamie his own spin-off and invite Phil back as Jamie. (But then again, the fear of them bringing James back into Jamie's life and showing it as a good thing... The fear is Real.)

However, how could all Jason, Joe, and Brendan together write and release 3x12 as is is beyond me. How could they give us all those parallels, all that build up, only for it to ruin it in the finale? Jamie and his dad, Beard and Jane, the weird triangle thing that before this was mostly presented as ot3 but suddenly turned in the dumbest possible '2 people are chasing another same one' and Roy & Jamie both being OOC as HELL. Even ot3 aside, what was that bar talk? Jamie would never. Then at Keeley's house and Roy that's 'been working his ass off for the past year' but actually regressed to the point of BEFORE we see him in s1. He was presented as mentally mature in s1. I understand that he's jealous and insecure, but getting back to throwing punches at your best friend trying to convince himself/believing that after one night stand (that was VERY poorly addressed in 3x10 and 3x11 in my opinion) you're getting back together with your ex when she's been turning you down again and again? After that misogynistic comment about "But she's a woman, so you never know." WHO wrote that and why? Who allowed this to appear in the actual episode? And don't give me the "He's only human" treatment, he was always human but he never treated Keeley that shitty. He was better than that from the beginning. Or is it just me who wanted him to be better? Plus, Roy attacking Jamie after KNOWING what Jamie went through and how awful it is for him.

Before TL there was a show that I loved very much, but it disappointed me to the point that I started hating it, dropped it before the last season aired, and blacklisted it everywhere. I won't name it, but the writers were absolutely awful and treated the fans and the main gay ship like clowns. Typical Cis White Guys behavior towards their own characters and writing them as OOC as possible. I was very afraid this might happen to TL but was hoping that it won't. After 3x12? You guys. All my trust into their writing and believing in knowing what they're doing completely disappeared.

I am gutted bc of how much this show means to me and how it helped me through the darkest time in my life, but also... Are we sure we want more? Are we sure we trust them to continue this with these characters? I can kinda imagine the female football team, but to continue with all of our favs?

Mmm, I'm not sure about that, guys. Are you?

[thestrangestthing89]

It's interesting to me how many people claim that Nancy's storyline is being reduced to a love triangle but then go and reduce her to that themselves. Her story is not about which boyfriend she has. It's always been about Barb. But the people upset over Jonathan and Steve always, always ignore Barb and her role in Nancy's story.

I wrote about this more here because I was getting frustrated by the amount of people who were saying this and claiming that Steve and her are endgame simply because they interacted a bit this season when that wasn't the point in this story at all. Nancy had multiple flashbacks to Barb this season (and in the past). It should have been very clear that that was what was motivating her to do what she was doing.

That fact that there is a subplot where she wasn't sure which boyfriend she wanted hardly reduces her to a love triangle. She's allowed to be unsure of what's going on with her and Jonathan. She's allowed to care about Jonathan (I have seriously seen people complaining that when they are getting attacked in the hospital in S3 it was sexist for her to yell for Jonathan. It wasn't. She's scared and upset and not one person was bothered by him yelling for her. She's allowed to have a full range of feelings.)

If people actually want her to be a 3 dimensional character, she is going to have life experiences and emotions that reflect this. And part of that is going to involve her feelings for her boyfriend. It's not a bad thing. It's hardly the only point of her character. But if that's what you are reducing her to, then maybe the sexist biases are coming from you and not the narrative.

People examine female characters in a way they never would with male characters. It ends up coming across hyper-critical and like those characters are always wrong or written badly. This helps no one and is hardly a feminist critique. It's the same sexism that drives people to be hyper-critical of women in real life. Women and female characters need to be perfect. The need to be everyone's ideal of what a woman is supposed to be. Which is going to be different for everyone and is what leads people to feel like they are always wrong. To me, a lot of the criticism of Nancy comes from people who can't relate to her. Which is fine. She doesn't have to be relatable to everyone. But people seem to get annoyed whenever she isn't behaving like them and isn't acting like how they view a role model to act. She isn't perfect, she makes mistakes - ie her plan this season was reckless (and again driven by her flashbacks to Barb). She's allowed to make these mistakes. She's never been written as this flawless hero who always saves the day. And she shouldn't be.

The same thing happens with Joyce. I have seen people complain that her character has been reduced to her romance with Hopper when she is doing the same thing she's done since the beginning of the series. She has done nothing but go through hell and back to save the people she loves. Usually it's Will. And I don't think I've ever seen anyone complain when she was protecting her child. But the second a male adult needs that same help suddenly she's being reduced to something. But this is just what her character does for the people she loves. And it isn't a bad thing.

Anytime a male character gets put into a caretaking role they never receive any criticism. Care taking isn't inherently problematic or sexist. Hopper does everything he can to save the people he loves too an no one complains. And don't even get me started on Steve who does a fraction of what Joyce does and gets called a mom even though there is a an actual mom doing all the work and getting ignored. No one is allowed to criticize Steve. I have never gotten more hate than when I criticized Steve. Even though in the narrative, he isn't doing nearly as much as someone like Joyce is.

Again, female characters are allowed to care about the male characters. This isn't reducing them to a romance role or a caretaking role. But again, I feel like people's own sexist biases are what is causing them to oversimplify the female characters on the show and not anything from the narrative. I also want to point out here that we don't know a lot of Joyce's backstory but will likely get a lot more of it with the stage production. She is tied to the supernatural plot in some way. We don't know the whole story here or why her and Hopper interact with each other the way that they do.

El is another character that tends get misinterpreted. I have written about this several times, but people tend to have a worshipful attitude towards her. Mike and El's relationship in particular is either reduced to people who want them to get get married and have babies or people who think she needs to dump him because he's a bad boyfriend and she's a girlboss. Mike's character arch is complex and while he has made mistakes, so has El and their entire relationship didn't fall apart because of him. She treats him badly, but criticizing her seems to be off limits. Anytime I have, I have gotten a lot of hate.

This isn't helping anyone. She is a complex character who has flaws and it's a good thing. She has also never been reduced to her relationship with Mike and has an entire backstory involving the supernatural plot. But she isn't going to be the one to save the day in the end. This story was always about Will. And when this happens that doesn't mean the writers sidelined a female character in favor of a male one. It means a lot of the audience simply decided El was the main character because she has superpowers and misinterpreted the fact that this was about Will from the start.

And for the record this is not anti-feminist. The gay kid getting to save the day in the end isn't something we've seen before. It's good that this is happening and hardly means that El has no role at all. I'm sure she will still be there helping. But seriously, I have seen so many white women being superheroes and badasses who save everyone. There may not be as many of them as there are white men, but I have never once seen a gay kid get to play this role. It's ok if she takes a step back here. Especially since, again, I don't think the narrative has ever centered her. I think it's the audience that's done this.

The only time I have felt like the critique of female characters is valid is when looking at the characters of color. Erica often gets reduced to the stereotype of a sassy black girl. Not all the time - I do think she has great moments with Dustin and Lucas in particular that show she is a complex character and I hope we get to see more of this. But I really wish she would stop saying "just the facts" every few minutes and sometimes her attitude is flat out rude and not funny or cute. Not to mention the fact that her mother seems to only every say her name over and over again. I would like to see the Sinclair family interacting more next season. They have less parent-child interactions than the other kids and their parents.

There is a lot more to be said for the way the show writes characters of color in general and this isn't the place for it. But the fact that I haven't seen a lot of criticism over this tells me that the white female characters are held to a different standard than the black female characters (which is hardly surprising or new information. This usually happens).

The white female characters need to be flawless - desirable by the male characters but not reduced to a romance role, kick ass and never make a mistake, be the "strong female lead" (notice how we never use the term "strong male lead"), and basically be something that is completely unattainable. But the black female characters need to be what the white audience is comfortable seeing. And even though this show doesn't just have a white audience, the fact that most of the cast is white shows that they are being catered to however subconsciously.

My point is this - while it's totally fine to critique the show and the characters on it (and people should do this), I feel like a lot of the time this is done at the expense of women and not in any way that is actually helpful. I think if people took a step back and recognized their own biases (which everyone has for the record, we are taught them) they would realize sometimes those critiques don't add up. But overall, with regard to the white female characters anyway, I have felt like the show does a pretty good job making them well rounded and complex without making them unrealistic. It's the audience interpretations that I have found very problematic sometimes.

[yoihino]

Inspired by @noodles-and-tea Gravity Falls x Phineas & Ferb crossover, an extremely cursed AU where Bill goes to Dr. Doofenshmirtz for the portal instead of Ford. (More under the cut because this got long).

This involves Stanley and Ford having more or less made up somewhere in the last 30 years after the reunion which didn't end in their separation (because there was no portal) and Phineas and Ferb and possibily the whole gang going for a week stay at Gravity Falls while the Pine twins are also there (going through the show, except the author is there and both grunkles are more willing to help them learn about the supernatural).

I don't know how Phineas and Ferb would get in contact with Bill. Presumably he isn't confined because he never contacted Ford, so maybe he would just visit them in a dream (most likely Phineas, because Ferb is much less impulsive and so probably wouldn't initiate the building of a portal incited by a possibly imaginary possibly malignant entity). The other possibility is to make this a fusion with the Phineas and Ferb: Across the second dimension, except in Gravity Falls because Dr. Doofenshmirtz concludes the only place with enough weirdness/magic to fuel the portal is there. This would then mean that Bill conctacts Dr. Doofenshmirtz, incites him to build a portal making him believe it would accomplish what it does in the movie, and instead when fixed by the brother's creates the rift. This then could lead to all kind of fun things such as extra bonding time between the brothers and the twins, perfect for angst for when Bill inevitably tricks someone into giving him the rift.

Other fun ideas I had while writing this:

Perry and Waddles befriend each other. This involves both pet shenanigans with the twins and the brothers and Waddles following Perry and finding out about his secret agent job, most likely joining in. I think it would be very funny if Mabel saw them but just went along with it as a game. Otherwise you could follow the Phineas & Ferb movie plotline and make it really angsty for everyone, your choice

Perry is here on a mision to stop Dr. Doofenshmirtz from building the portal, and is probably why the brothers got to go on a vacation to gravity Falls in the first place. Bill obviously is just using Dr. Doofenshmirtz, so when this is revealed Doofenshmirtz will align with our heros, if only to spite the evil triangle. Also the portal is now called portalinator and it still has a big red button to stop it but it also blows up and dissapears as is normal in the Phineas & Ferb world

Stan and Ford befriending Phineas and Ferbs mom and dad (I don't remember their names :( ). I think Stan would appreciate the mom's no nonsense but still willing to have fun attitude, and Ford would like the dad's more reserved but still nerdy disposition.

Mable and Ferb sharing dating advice. That's it

In addition to the brother's parent never finding out about their inventions, they also now can never seem to see anything of the supernatural stuff going on. Candace would think she has gone crazy if it weren't for Soos and Wendy

Weirdmaggedon is more or less the same but we get to see Candace taking on the responsability to help/save her brother's and their friends (the movie's character arc, basically), the parents possibily mantaining their chill attitude while going full on apocalypse survivalist mode, and the final battle mecha being even better because now they have the brothers and Doofenshmirtz also working on it.

Possibly mixing and doing something with the fact that both the Phineas & Ferb movie and the Gravity Falls finale have an 'erasing the memories of a loved one' plotline

After the finale they stay friends through the year through letters and make plans to meet up again next summer

[leoruby-draws]

in your training wheels AU w rose, jay, and eddie … i think it’s clear that eddie has a crush on rose, but who would end up being the pairing between the two boys with rose considering jason and rose are a “couple” in main continuity? also, love the au and amazing art! :)

Yes, there does seem to be something going on with all three of them, doesn't it? Atm, everyone's just kids, so romance won't really pop up (unless like, for a gag or whatever). Maybe as they hit their teens, there might be crazy love triangle drama going on. Its ok if it does, they are superheroes, dumb drama is the name of the game in DC comics lol. Lemme see if I can get my thoughts in order for this..

Your 100% correct that Eddie has an enormous crush on Rose, just like in canon. Also like canon, it was pretty much a love at first sight kinda thing. As for why, well there's the fact that he thinks Rose is very pretty and cute. But also he loves how skilled she is as a fighter and how dedicated she is to her craft. She can do anything according to him! Even as they grow older, that infatuation never really goes away. If anything, it grows stronger.

It's also extremely obvious to just about everyone on the team (and off!), only question is if Rose knows and just ignores it. Or if she's genuinely oblivious, she's pretty focused on protecting her mom and training her martial art skills.

As for Rose, she's not interested in romance at the moment (she is a kid after all), that might change as she gets older and gains more control over her life. And while she may or may not be aware of Eddie's crush on her, she might have a minor thing for Jason. It's not nearly as overt at Eddie's thing, so only some of the more perceptive team members might know. It's kinda of embarrassing for her to be all 'girly' like that.

As for why Jason, well not only is it a reference to canon JayRose, there's also the fact that in this au Jason was willing to help her out when he didn't even know who she was. He's a dedicated fighter like her, smart, and she thinks he's cute (at least once he reveals his secret id).

This crush is something that develops very slowly over the years, it kinda catches her off guard almost. I don't know if she ever tries to ask him out or anything, once Jason hits his fifteenth birthday, she might just miss her chance perhaps...

As for Jason, well that's just a mystery! But seriously, whatever his own opinions on all this, he seems to be keeping his cards close to his chest. Does he gain a crush on Rose too? Is it Eddie he has a crush on? Is he jealous of how easily Rose steal's Eddie's attention? Or does he see Eddie as competition for Rose? Every member of the Outlaws has a different idea on what's happening on Jason's end, and none of those idea's overlap lol. Just like in the fandom, every member of the team seems to read Jason differently (and for some, just straight up don't understand him).

It seems for now, Jason would rather not think about stuff like that and just concentrate on having fun with friends! He's just a kid you know!

Anyways here's a funny doodle that's just perfect for this question:

Thanks for the question, that was interesting to think about! Have a good day!

[soshadysoquiet]

Grace Thoughts

Grace's transformation in tua is fantastic, and I'd like to talk about it, so I will.

S1. She's obviously created to be a specific image, but comes across as a well-loved doll, if a stereotypical doll nonetheless. She's clothed and pressed neatly and finely, respected and loved by the children she cares for, viewed as a member of the "management triangle" by Pogo and Reggie. She's kept limited (Lord knows Reggie loves to suppress) and not given free will that she's clearly capable of, but there's the sense that she's cared for and respected in her own problematic way, probably as much as Reggie is capable of (again, weird seeing S2, but we'll get there)

S2. Reggie clearly Does respect and value this Grace, they talk about sharing lives and he looks genuinely emotional. But in the original timeline he... remakes her as not a scientist, but a mother? Along with changing her accent which is a hilariously pretentious choice. Question is; did Reggie value her Scientific mind, or value her Nurturing one? She was able to form a strong bond with Pogo, teach him to do incredible things. Perhaps Reggie is so scientifically advanced that her scientific intelligence wasn't what impressed him, but her ability to nurture and teach was, a skill set Reggie decidedly does not possess.

OG Timeline: Did he construct Grace into Mother of the Year Every Year Ad Infinitum (in his mind, I actually don't think she's a perfect mom, but thank christ the kids had her.) because of respect for her natural nurturing ways as he saw her? It's still wrong that he created her at all in plenty of senses and removed bits of her personality to suit, but that is very Regginald of him. Also, what happened to OG Grace? We may never know...

Now, in the timeline spawned by the 60s: Grace grows to question Reggie, she never might have without Diego tipping her off, and also giving her some likely not-common-for-the-time-period respect. Her and Reggie face a fallout point, and we all know Reggie doesn't like to be questioned, disobeyed or not have things go his way and resorts to drastic measures.

So that leads us to, S3: For Starts: this Grace seems to have a very different physical appearance; compared to S1 and S2 her hair is less lustrous and more plainly kept, her clothes are less flattering and more basic. She seems less like an upheld stereotypical ideal and more like the slave that she truly is, negating any respect for her 'nurturing' or 'scientific' mind. Even the children have no love or respect for her. She's sidelined and the kids are actively cruel to her often.

So Reggie was so pissed off about Real Grace getting a reality check about him in S2 that he did her an even greater disservice when recreating her as a robot. Did he create her out of cruelty rather than misguided affection this time around, and spare her little other resources? Either way he was still obsessed enough with her to create her, even when we know there were other nannies (did these ones get offed by the Sparrow kids like the Brelly ones did? R.I.P the nannies). Either way, Grace was always going to be made.

Grace's transformation really shows us in yet another way just how sick, twisted and cruel Reginald's mind is. If they try to make him 'nice' and 'redeemable because it was all for love' in S4 I will flip a table.

[disasterbijamietartt]

I think the whole love triangle stuff and Jamie’s reunion with Tartt sr left such a bitter taste in my mouth since this show taught us, especially regarding Jamie, that accountability matters.

Good people backslide and fuck up, yep, but they show accountability for their mistakes — but in these instances we didn’t see it.

Roy and Jamie didn’t apologize to Keeley for being dickheads. We are just left hanging. Instead of having them go out on a good note as friends who love and respect each other, we can have some lingering disrespect and conflict, that hopefully (like so many things) was addressed off screen.

The whole thing would have landed so differently for me if it had a follow up—e.g. Roy and Jamie bringing coffee the next morning and apologizing—or had taken place earlier in the season. This way it felt like “Oops, righty, the love triangle has to be resolved by the end of the series and we have only the finale left.”

(In addition, it doesn’t sit well with me, that we spent time on how the boys felt about Keeley, showed how Keeley kicked them out, but never had her articulate HER feelings and what SHE wants. Yeah, women shouldn’t be the ones having to do all the emotional labor, but this took away some of her agency and made it seem like her feelings and what she wanted actually didn’t matter enough to be actually heard. Like, we have to assume she wants to focus on herself and her business instead of her love life, or maybe she really is done with both of them, even though there were signs she wasn’t, but we never actually see her get to any conclusion, which is so unfair to her arc.)

While I had hoped for OT3, I had expected the trio to end up single and that stuff would be left ambiguous. But I’m not happy with the way they did it, not after we saw in Mom City how it could have ended with them.

And we have a similar issue with Tartt sr, who gets to reconcile with Jamie without ever showing accountability on screen.

(Regardless of it being a dream sequence or not, they presented it as a happy ending)

The show did nothing to humanize James before showing him suddenly and miraculously in rehab—they did a better job of humanizing Rupert, ffs.

The way they did it, his stint in rehab came completely out of the left field as if adding it was an afterthought, since this is a feel-good show and, god forbid, a child cutting out his abusive father!

Even though they had the perfect opportunity with Georgie to give him a backstory and positive traits in the same episode he is shown as a reformed man™️

Or, you know, making the reconciliation a whole arc for Jamie and Tartt sr, spanning several episodes and giving it some room. After spending so much time on showing him being an abusive asshole and the effects the abuse had on Jamie, that was the least they should have done if they wanted to go down that road.

But on the contrary, they made him an even worse dad with the whole Amsterdam trip story (that they probably forgot about).

(And similar to Keeley above, we never really get Jamie’s thought process on this, we don’t have him reflecting about his reasons to reconnect beyond the whole “forgiveness is for yourself” speech. It would have given perspective if we’d known WHY he wants to reconnect. Once again we have to fill the gaps on our own.)

And to me that were very disappointing moves for a series finale of a show that teaches how important reformation, forgiveness and accountability are.