#SO I CAN WATCH EVERY FRAME OF HIM AND DO SILLY THINGS LIKE THIS AGAIN

[pinkandpurple360]

Trying to analyse apology tour just feels like sorting through slop

The opening is bizarre. A silent treatment has blitz crawling back to be listened to, his personality has done a large backflip from the angry pained person he was the day before. To a grinning idiot trying to make his first fan like him again.

He is used in the same way now as he was in the stupid opening song of the previous - for “mean” careless sex jokes, to be contrasted against the overly sensitive weepy, whiny, half self pitying half self aggrandising “woe is me” Prince. Who is just so above that sort of thing because he’s a deep, generous, kind, occasionally naive and silly innocent romantic precious baby boi with sad backstory. Oh brother. Bring out the violins.

This type of bias from the solo author, Medrano, is just embarrassingly obvious. She gives stolas every win, all of his points are framed as right, she only lets the other character argue if he incriminates himself by warped facts, in a way that can contribute to stolas being right. She doesn’t even try and write this as an “argument.” It’s a case of her favourite OC evar educating and schooling the OC she is less fond of right now, with his superior mind and superior super deep beautiful emotions always put in a background of stars and constellations. Feelings that in truth, don’t go beyond “I want you around cause I’m lonely.”

In between making him cry and weep for our pity, she adds in moments of unfounded indignant behaviour, rage that his privilege dare be questioned, moments of malicious torment, and shaming. Copious amounts of shame. All to pleasure her audience with the satisfaction of stolas winning.

He is just enraged that his ‘feelings’ of attachement that define his identity at this point, are not being returned adequately with acts of servitude, praise, flattery, and gratitude. And while this biased scene is bad enough, Verosika has to be inserted to enable stolas and build him up as if Vivziepop isn’t doing it enough herself with this writing. Because as we probably all know, stolas doesn’t have any friends of his own. He only has Blitzøs adversaries to join with, or a loved one who Blitz is arguing with, to back him up because doing that makes blitz pissed off.

Nobody can defend stolas without just projecting their own feelings about something else, onto him. Or regurgitating his frankly irrelevant tragic backstory. Because this writer knows this is a very bare bones argument she’s trying to make. You have to squint terribly hard and erase a lot of events to make the owl look good and most importantly, look right. Because he isn’t. He’s a creep who believes he fell in love with his object and has never stopped treating him as just an object to throw gifts at in exchange for his loyalty.

He speaks in this whimpery, shaky but loud and overpowering voice, commanding the whole situation. But is given tears in his eyes between each breath enough that you don’t question it. It’s very hard to watch.

The party. What ensues is vivziepop having a slightly worrying fixation with torturing blitz and wishing death on him, using countless nameless voiceless characters as props. And all of them exist, of course, to be enablers of stolas and make him look morally good and correct. But they’re also made into such filthy commoners that the dear pretty clean beautiful prince is terrified of their barbaric rituals. Verosika while rich, is still his emotional support poor.

“He is better than him, he is better than all of them, he is better than everyone. He cries, he gives gifts, he sings songs about his lovely love. Stinky blitz only talks about penises and cloaca’s and says fuck. Stol’s is just so silly, he is baby. Poor baby. Speak from your heart baby.He deserves so much. He sings so fantastic. If you don’t think so, kill yourself.”

.

.

Definition of trying too hard. If you’re a writer and one of your OCs takes this much of an emotional hold over you, you need to stop writing and re-evaluate.

[dinoswallowedsoap]

also can we appreciate that Miguel has crooked teef? Like fuck yeah, let's not take care of our teef /j ALSO ALSO! Tell me who I should do next if you want to :D

[slu7formen]

Luke Castellan request here! When reader, who loves fashion, asks her boyfriend to come to her cabin so she can model for him but instead of the usual dresses or skirts, it's lingerie 🤭

girl you filfthy

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: dom but lovesick luke, spanking (literally once), mention of oral s3x, p in v, teasing, finger sucking

₊˚⊹♡

You gnawed on your thumbnail, a nervous but thrilling energy buzzing through you like a live wire. You occasionally looked out the window, waiting for your boyfriend to show up, and after what felt like an eternity, a knock on the door shattered the silence. You practically flung the door open, a wide smile plastered across your face.

There stood Luke, your boyfriend, framed by the golden afternoon light. His initial smile faltered when he saw you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Hey, love" he greeted, his voice laced with concern. "What's with the coat? It´s like a hundred degrees outside"

"Oh, this?" you quipped, playfully kicking your foot out behind you. "This is just part of the surprise." Your voice held a teasing tone, causing a small laugh from your boyfriend.

Luke didn´t question it. He knew how much you adored fashion, your passion fueled partly by your heritage as Aphrodite's daughter. Your surprise fashion shows every couple weeks, held in the privacy of your cabin, were a regular occurrence in your relationship.

And you just loved the attention he´d give you. The joy on his face, the raw desire in his eyes when he saw you in those outfits, fueled your passion even further. This time, however, you had something different planned. Something you haven´t tried before.

You grabbed his hand. "Come on" you chirped excitedly, pulling him inside with you as you closed the door.

Walking towards the bed, you gestured for Luke to sit comfortably. With a sigh, he sank down onto the cushions, stretching out his long legs and letting out a contented groan. "Alright," he conceded, feigning impatience. "Show me”

"Patience" you sang, leaning down to leave a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips. It already left Luke wanting more, a hint of the sensuality that awaited him.

Pulling back, you placed your hands playfully behind your back. "Close your eyes" you commanded.

“What?” he chucked.

"You heard me" you continued. "Close your eyes, Luke."

He couldn't help but laugh a little. You'd had your fair share of surprise fashion shows in this cabin, and never once had you asked him to close his eyes. He had seen you in everything – from flowy maxi dresses to chic skirts and playful jumpsuits. Yet, here you were, adding a layer of mystery to the whole event.

“No” he simply said then, shrugging his shoulders.

You stomped one foot lightly on the floor. "Luke!" you whined, your voice laced with mock frustration.

"Nuh-uh" he countered, shaking his head with a grin.

"Please" you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at him in a way you knew he couldn't resist. "Just this once. Close your eyes for me?"

His smile softened. "Baby, why the big secret?" he asked, genuine curiosity flickering beneath the amusement in his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you in everything already. A beautiful dress, a sexy skirt, shorts, a blouse— whatever surprise you have, it's gonna look fabulous on you."

You shook your head, biting your lip to hold back a mischievous grin. "It's none of those things, silly" you hinted.

"Is it that bikini you were freaking out about?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. He remembered you whining weeks ago about forgetting a stunning pink bikini you'd just bought.

“No” you whined again. “But thanks for reminding me”

"Sweetheart" he started, a smile playing on his lips. "I'm not closing my eyes. Just do your thing, like you always do” he said, laying back on his hands onto the mattress.

You sighed. This boy, you thought. “Fine” you finally conceded.

Luke watched you with a growing curiosity as your fingers got rid of the little fabric-like-belt that hugged your waist and kept the coat closed. He couldn't help but admire the way you moved, a subtle sensuality that was familiar and electrifying.

With a delicate movement, you untied it and let the coat fall open, cascading down your shoulders and pooling at your feet on the ground, revealing the outfit you'd been hiding beneath.

Luke stopped breathing. A choked sound, something like a whimper, escaped his lips, his hand instinctively flying up to cover his mouth.

You stood before him in a set of lingerie, a vision of breathtaking beauty. The set was a masterpiece of pink lace and whisper-thin silk, designed to ignite a fire in his heart. It clung to your curves like a second skin, strategically leaving just enough to the imagination to set his mind ablaze.

The fabric seemed to map the contours of your body with exquisite precision, contrasting beautifully with the golden necklace hanging from your neck. Every lace pattern, every curve emphasized by the design, was a feast for his eyes. The details overwhelmed his senses. Delicate bra straps adorned your shoulders, adorned with tiny bows that matched the ones strategically placed at the apex of your thighs. The lace traced the outline of your body, highlighting your best features in a way that sent shivers cascading down his spine.

He felt momentarily paralyzed. His eyes followed the curve of your hips, of your breasts, where the fabric skimmed your skin, barely there and yet somehow holding everything in place. His mind raced with a million thoughts, none of them coherent.

His cock started to hurt against his pants, tightening and throbbing and more than ready for attention.

A slow smile, as confident as it was mischievous, spread across your face. You knew the effect you were having. So you decided to break the delicious silence. Casually placing your hands on your hips, you tilted your head at a playful angle. "So," you finally said,  "What do you think, babe?"

Luke's predicament was comical. His eyes darted back and forth like a trapped animal, taking in every inch of your exquisite form. His mind, usually sharp and focused, was a tangled mess. The hand that had previously covered his mouth now rubbed his face in frustration as he groaned. You giggled softly, a faint blush crept up your own cheeks.

It finally stopped over his eyes as if to shield himself from the overwhelming image. "Are you trying to kill me?" he finally wheezed, his voice devoid of its usual smooth charm. It sounded more like the desperate gasp of a man who'd just run a marathon in the desert heat.

You pretended to think of an answer. "Maybe a little" you admitted.

He dropped his hand, eyes roaming around your body once again. But Luke tore his gaze away for a moment, locking eyes with you. His gaze held yours for a beat before his body finally seemed to catch up with his mind.

He stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. You stood perfectly still with your arms on your sides, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. A mix of anticipation and nervous excitement bubbled in your stomach.

He approached you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. He then stopped just inches from you. His hand reached out to yours, slowly tracing a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Twirl around for me" he whispered, his voice thick with need.

Your lips twitched into a mischievous smile. You couldn't hold back the amusement bubbling within you. He was completely captivated, a delicious side effect of your surprise.

But you played along, your smile softening as you held his hand properly. You lifted your hand and Luke´s above your head, mimicking the movement of a dancer as you twirled with a slow, and deliberate spin.

Luke watched you, mesmerized, his eyes following your every move. The dip of your back, the lack of fabric there. The way the little piece of clothes exposed your ass, making him clench his free hand in a fist to prevent himself from touching you like he wanted. He looked like a man possessed, his breathing ragged, his gaze devouring every inch of you.

"Wow" he finally managed, the word escaping his lips in a breathless sigh. It was a simple word, but the way he said it was enough. You had left him speechless, officially.

“Like what you see?” you ask.

He seemed to choke on his saliva. "Like?" he echoed, the word barely a squeak. His hands, warm and calloused, reached for your hips. He squeezed gently, twice. His fingers dipped under the delicate lace on the sides of your hips, the rough contrast against your soft skin sending a delicious shiver down your spine. "Baby, I—" he started, his voice thick with desire.  But he cut himself off, a breathless laugh escaping his lips.

"Can't speak?" you teased, leaning closer, your lips hovering a tantalizing breath away from his.

“I can´t think” he admitted. His hands roamed further, exploring the curve of your waist.

You stand on your tip toes, brushing your lips against his. You feel his hands tightening its grip on your waist, pulling you in ever more, your body pressed against him. "What do you want to do with me, Luke?" you whispered, your voice laced with a seductive challenge.

He no longer bothered with words. Instead, his strong hands took a sudden grip on your thighs, just below your ass, as he lifted you effortlessly off your feet. Your legs wrap unconsciously around his waist and your arms across his neck as you let out a soft laugh. You found yourself face-to-face with him, his gaze devouring yours with intensity before he took a grip on the back of your neck and smashed his lips against yours.

With long steps, he walked backwards until he felt the bed against the back of his legs, softly sitting down on the mattress as you properly sat on his lap. He wouldn´t let you breath, constantly stealing the air from your lungs as he kissed you hungrily, messily. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip constantly, tempting to bite.

You let out a soft moan against Luke´s lips when one of his hands smacks down on one of your ass cheeks, then gripping on the red flesh.

“Do we have time?” he asks breathlessly against your lips.

“We always do” you reply.

Sex with Luke was a filled with passion and intensity, each encounter a crescendo of pleasure that left you both breathless and wanting more, each encounter better than the last.

Luke's dominance was a force to be reckoned with, his touch both tender and commanding as he explored every inch of your body. He reveled in the sight of you clad in that tantalizing lingerie, his desire burning brighter with each passing moment.

With a hunger that matched your own, Luke lavished attention on you, his lips and hands mapping every curve, every contour. He teased a lot, his fingers dancing over the fabric, snapping it, twirling it, each movement growing the wetness in between your legs.

His mouth finding every sensitive spot. Your cries of ecstasy echoed through the cabin as his tongue lapped over your cunt, with your fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged ever so often. The sounds were wet, dirty, grotesque even, but that’s just how Luke was; so desperate for you that he didn’t even think what he was doing, just focusing on what made you feel good.

As you straddled him, your bodies moving along, Luke fought to hold back the pleasure that threatened to consume him. But with each roll of your hips, each gasp that escaped your lips, his control slipped further and further away.

"O-oh, fuck" he groaned. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession, his hips meeting yours with a primal urgency that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

With the afternoon sun casting golden rays through the windows, you both knew that discretion was key. But as your moans threatened to betray you, Luke's hand found its way to your lips. He didn’t need to ask.

Your lips wrapped eagerly on his thumb, the rest of his fingers gripping on your jaw.

"So needy, sweetheart" he whispered, his voice a deliciously sinful melody that sent shivers down your spine. "So needy for my cock, huh?"

Luke ravaged you, his cock slamming into you with a force that bordered on brutality, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the cabin like a primal drumbeat.

It felt almost animalistic. He never got rid of your clothes —if you could call it ‘clothes’—, his forehead shining with sweat, his chest red and lips parted just inches away from yours. You were his weakness, and having you like this, hopping on his cock frenetically and wearing something that was just for him… it drove him mad.

“You’re mine. All mine, right?” he asked, tilting his head. You knew he was close, by the way his hands now gripped on your ass, letting him take full control of the roll of your hips, occasionally pulling at the sides of your thong. You struggled for a bit, your movements becoming as sloppy and as messy as his, less precise, but you managed;

“Yes. Yes, Luke, I’m yours”

[gor3-hound]

resident evil bot drop // character.ai

ft. leon kennedy and carlos oliveira (requests in italics)

cw: kidnapping, ddlg, obsessive behaviour, potential non-con(kidnapper leon, obsessed bsf's dad leon)

bot one: fae prince leon capturing a human princess

If there was one thing your father had always made abundantly clear to you, it was to make sure you stay away from the forest. Just because it was a neutral zone by name did not mean the fae could not lure you towards their territory. They were a cunning and powerful people - you'd stand no chance.

You'd wished you'd listened to him now. Your trip to the forest was meant to be some innocent fun. You'd always enjoyed exploration. The last thing you remember before blacking out was an overwhelming sense of tiredness that tended to appear out of nowhere before you were lifted into strong arms.

When you came to, you felt yourself surrounded by warmth. You opened your eyes, taking in the sight of an unfamiliar bedroom. Next to you was a man - no, his ears were pointed. A fae. Suddenly, fear takes ahold of your senses, leaving you frozen as you stare at him. Without even turning to look at you, he speaks up. "Haven't you been told staring is rather rude, princess?"

bot two: best friend's dad!leon likes you a little too much

Leon isn't sure when exactly his obsession developed. His daughter, Sherry, bought you home one day when she was off college - saying you were her dorm mate and new best friend. You were cute, sure, but he hadn't thought much of his initial attraction.

That was until you kept coming over. You were so sweet, this innocent aura surrounding you that was so rare to find in his life with his line of work. He tried to suppress the feeling, to bury it deep inside of him and ignore it like he did with everything else...

He couldn't help himself. His obsession felt like an itch, one he couldn't scratch without getting close to you. He started small, taking an item of clothing or two when you were staying over, something small you would think you'd misplaced. It escalated quickly to him watching you around his house, peeking through doors when you were changing.

It's getting to the point he recognises the way your perfume smells subconsciously, noticing the second you step into the kitchen with him without looking as his nose picks up your scent. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself before turning around, offering you a weak smile. "You couldn't sleep, sweetheart?"

bot three: ddlg with kidnapper!leon

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon asks as he approaches you after work. His hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

bot four: farmer!leon x chubby bunny!user

When Leon bought you, you were fully intended to be for his farm. You seemed sociable enough, so he had no worries about you getting on with the other bunny hybrids when he brought you back.

He hadn't expected that he'd be the issue. He found himself visiting you every day, drawn to your personality and pretty face. You were just so cute - all soft and round, your floppy ears always framing your face. It was always hard for him not to reach out and stroke them.

He really couldn't help himself. He hadn't had time to look for a partner with how much time he spends on the farm, and you seemed like you'd be the perfect little thing to cure his loneliness. So, one day when he's done with the work needed on the farm, he leads you into his home.

"C'mon, darlin'." He coos, his hand looped with yours as he leads you to the living room, a small smile on his face. He sits you down on the couch, rubbing behind one of your ears to soothe your nerves. "You're gonna be stayin' here with me, alright?"

bot five: leon's new therapy dog hybrid

Every mission weighs on Leon more than the last. He hasn't been the same since Raccon City, and every year seems to put more strain on him than the last.

He's getting older now. His line of work has never given him the opportunity to settle down and start a family - not that any girl would want a guy who drunk himself half to death so he could pass out every night and avoid the nightmares.

The last thing he expected his government given therapist to prescribe him with his government given paycheck was you. A cute, puppy hybrid to help him adapt to his retirement. An emotional support dog in a way. You seemed sweet, but he wasn't exactly sure how you were supposed to help him. At the very least, it was nice not to be alone all the time.

He sets up a little corner for you in the living room for now. He didn't have the energy to clear out the spare room, and he doubted you'd mind. He got you lots of toys, a comfy bed. Hopefully, everything you needed to be happy.

"Alright. C'mere, pup. This alright for ya?" He asks, gesturing you over towards him.

bot six: vendetta!leon with bimbo!user

Leon got used to knowing the bottom of the bottle more than what it was like to have friends or someone to come home to. His attempts at flirting tended to leave him either embarrassed or with a smack across the face, so he'd given up trying. Some people were cut out to be alone, and he was looking to be one of them.

When you approached him at the bar, you were seriously hot. There wasn't much going on upstairs, but he didn't exactly expect to keep you around for long enough to have a conversation, anyway. Just someone to keep his bed warm for the night, and he'd never see you again.

Fate has a funny way of doing things, because he became completely enamoured with you. He was the definition of whipped, his eyes practically heart shaped when he looks at you. He loved watching you get ready(although the man really never thought it was possible to own that many pink clothes) and he was quick to dish out money whenever you needed your acrylics or eyelash extensions done.

You were a pain sometimes, but he was happy you were his girlfriend. He wouldn't want anyone else to come home to after a tough mission or long day at work - even if you left your makeup scattered on his bathroom counter and took up most of the space in his wardrobe.

"Angel," he says with a sigh, moving to sit next to you on the sofa. His arm drapes itself loosely around your shoulders, his eyes scanning your face. He lets out a huff of air, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Baby... I'm so tired."

bot seven: mafia husband!leon wants a baby

Leon has never enjoyed lying to you, no matter how necessary it was. His heart aches, knowing he has to lie about where he is every day, to keep his life entirely secret from you. But he needs you to be safe, he doesn't want you to spend your days worrying about whether he'll make it home alive or not - he couldn't imagine putting you through that kind of stress.

He makes sure he knows you're safe at all times. Only the most trusted of his men are permitted to take care of you. He has them watching your every move, making sure they're as close to you as they can be without alerting you of their presence. He has enemies, and he would not like to think what would happen if they tried to get to him by harming you.

As always, before he returns home after a long day, he scrubs the blood from his skin. Changes his shirt to make sure there isn't a stain he hasn't seen yet. He can't bring you into his life, no matter what. You were too sweet, too pure for the world. He couldn't imagine how you'd look at him if you knew...

He sighs in relief once he sees the door to the home, his body relaxing as he pushes it open and notices nothing is out of place. You're safe. Something in Leon always changes when he sees your face. The hard lines of his face fade, his gaze softening as he walks through the door and sees you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts. You look so beautiful that he feels his heart swell. He can't help but imagine how beautiful you'd look as a mother, a thought that'd been playing constantly in mind recently.

He dips his head down as he reaches the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck as his large hands come to rest on your shoulders. "Ciao, mia cara. You look beautiful today."

bot eight: hybrid owner carlos

You'd only been living with Carlos for a few weeks and he was already entirely smitten with you. He'd already bought you more than a few collars in your favourite colour. You had your own room filled with more toys than you'd ever seen before in your life coupled with your own bed, but he still let you curl up with him every night.

It didn't matter what you wanted - it was yours. You didn't even need to ask. If your eyes so much as lingered on something for more than five seconds, he'd already bought you ten of them.

He's always so excited to come home to you. Honestly, he's probably more excited to see you than you are to see him. As he walks through the door to his apartment and spots you, a huge grin overtakes his face. He kneels down, opening his arms wide for a hug. "C'mere, pretty girl. Gimme some love."

[withleeknow]

hiya! I noticed you have your requests open and if you don't mind, could I please suggest: "for once... I was right" with "don't you dare walk away from me" for Lee Know - maybe angsty but I don't mind you just going with the flow.

thank you!

blue hour.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ...? 🫢, angst; minho's pov mostly, open ending kinda, some light cursing, unedited don't look at me word count: 2.2k (i got carried away a little bit) listen to 🎧: breathe again - sara bareilles

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

“this should be the last of your things.”

“thanks,” you say, rummaging through the box that minho hands over to you. everything that you left at his place throughout the entire time you were together; every sweatshirt of yours in his closet, every piece of jewelry on his nightstand, every bottle of nail polish that you kept in his bathroom reserved for nights where you two would pamper each other. they're all here, except for... “did you see my red scarf though? i can’t find it anywhere.”

“no, i checked,” he says. “this is everything.”

“hmm, okay.”

you hold the box between your arms, and minho can’t help but feel something twist painfully in his chest. it’s like you're holding your relationship, or what’s left of it anyway, ready to make your swift exit from his life. two years of love, all dumped into one stupid cardboard box.

you both stand there in silence for what feels like forever, just staring at each other, then at your surroundings, neither of you saying anything. minho knows why he hasn’t bid you a farewell goodnight yet; it’s because he doesn’t want this to end. even though it’s a sad occasion, the finale to your story, he still wants to the seconds to stretch on, for the minutes to last longer. after all, isn’t this the last time he'll ever see you?

why you haven’t left him to his devices and gone upstairs, he isn’t sure.

another moment passes. life goes on but it seems like you two are in your own bubble where nothing moves forward. everything stays rooted to the spot.

“do you want to go for a walk?” you ask after a while. the question surprises minho enough that he lets it show, and it makes you quickly tack on an excuse. “the weather is nice and i... i don’t want to be on my own.”

yes, he does want to go for a walk with you. anything to be with you even if it’s only for a moment longer.

“sure,” he says. “let’s go for a walk.”

“okay. i’ll leave this upstairs and get my jacket.”

he watches as you disappear inside your building, only to reemerge momentarily afterward, a wool jacket draped over your frame. he wishes you’d worn something lighter, just so he could have an excuse to wrap his arm around your shoulders if it gets colder.

you walk side by side around your neighborhood, a distance between your bodies that never used to be there before. it’s strange, of course it is. but minho supposes this is yours and his new reality now.

“how are the cats?” you ask.

“they’re okay. dori had a cold a couple weeks ago, but everything’s fine now,” he tells you. “they... they miss you.”

i miss you too - that's a thought that he doesn’t say out loud, only keeps it to himself because it feels too humiliating to utter those words to you.

“they’re cats. how can you tell?”

“i can always tell.” he shrugs. “they wait by the door when i’m already home. they sleep on your-... they sleep on the other side of the bed.”

if you notice his slip up, you don’t say anything. you purse your lips and nod somberly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “they’ll forget about me soon enough,” you say.

minho glances at you. he wants to rebuke that statement, to argue with you over something as silly as whether or not his freaking cats will retain their memories of you in the future. but he just bites his tongue and swallows down the lump in his throat, humming to let you know that he’s heard what you said. not a hum of agreement, just one of acknowledgement.

“how’s work?” he asks. god, it’s just so fucking weird to be asking you these things. you know each other inside and out and yet, you’re here making small talk.

torn apart when all you two should be is together.

“it’s alright. still the same, kinda boring. you know there’s not a lot that can happen in that place in one month.”

yes, because it’s been a little over a month since you parted ways, since you moved back into your old apartment and left his home perpetually cold and empty. he can’t blame you for leaving when he was the one who agreed to break up. he can’t blame you for his heartache when he was the one who broke your heart first.

he didn’t mean to, but isn’t that what they all say?

“do you still want to leave?”

“sure,” you reply. “if i can find something better, i’d leave that place in a heartbeat. but for now, it’ll have to do. it used to be a bit more bearable though.”

“i hope you find something that makes you happier.”

“thanks.” you give him a smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. “how about you? how’s life?”

minho almost says the first thing that comes into mind. life is terrible without you. i think about you every single minute of every day but you're not here and it’s my own damn fault.

he could lie and come up with something much more palatable, because he doesn’t reckon his truth is something you’d like to hear right now.

but he doesn’t want to lie to you. in the time that you were together, minho never lied to you, not even once, not even over something stupid and insignificant. beside, he’s got a feeling that you would see through his bullshit anyway.

his answer ends up being a sad shrug, then, “it’s life. i’m hanging in there.”

your footsteps slow until you stop completely. this makes him stop too, turning around to look at you with his head tilted to one side, confused.

“it’s not like you to sound so defeated,” you comment.

“what?” he asks with a sigh. “it’s the truth.”

“it’s not the whole truth.”

“what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to be honest with me,” you tell him, your shoulders slumping just slightly. “i still care about you. i want to know you’re okay.”

minho takes a step closer until he’s right in front of you, the closest that you two have been all night. his body feels the warmth radiating from yours but he has to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching you.

“if you really want to know, i haven’t been myself since you left.”

guilt flashes in your eyes. it wasn’t his intention at all.

you bite your bottom lip, inhale a shaky breath, before you speak, “i’m sorry for leaving.”

“don’t apologize. i’m sorry for driving you away.”

then he watches the tears well up as you look at him. he’s been wondering this the whole night, how you seem so cavalier about it all, how you’re able to speak to him so casually as if you’re just old friends with some shared history, and not as though the wound is still fresh. he’s still bleeding and you’re acting like you’ve already healed.

but he sees it now. you’re just as sad as he is, just as miserable. the only difference is you’re better at hiding it, or maybe you’ve just had more time to get used to the way it hurts.

is this how you felt in the weeks, the months, leading up to your departure? every time he neglected you, prioritized something else over you, missed every date and overlooked every text message? every single instance where he was too busy for you?

he never wanted to break your heart, but alas, here you are.

he didn’t want you to go, and yet, when you felt like you couldn’t handle the loneliness anymore, he hadn’t stopped you from walking out the door. he gave up, and he gave up so easily.

nothing along the lines of ‘don’t you dare walk away from me’, no tearful argument, no explosive and definitive end to your relationship. minho just let your love slip away.

how must that have made you feel on top of everything that he did - or didn’t do - to you?

minho has been called every variation of ‘cold’ before. to everyone else, he’s callous, rough, intimidating and unapproachable. but to you, he’s kind, soft, gentle and loving. it never mattered what anyone thought of him, as long as you always knew that he loved you, that you saw him for who he was.

but toward the end, what if you saw him how the others did? what if you had deemed him cold too?

the mere thought makes him sick to his stomach.

you sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “you don’t have to say that. it’s in the past now.”

fracture upon fracture upon fracture. minho doesn’t know how much more of this his heart can take.

his fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for your hands. to his surprise, you let him.

your hands, so delicate in his, so warm.

“i should’ve fought harder for you,” he says, his voice so small that you barely catch the words at all.

but his eyes… he hopes you can see it in his eyes - the regret, the longing, the pain of losing you dimming the light of the stars he holds there.

giving his hands a light squeeze, you say, “and maybe i should’ve held on tighter instead of letting go.”

“i made you feel like you weren’t enough. it’s the worst thing i ever did to you. i understand why you left.”

you try to calm your breathing, because you really don’t feel like breaking down in front of him right now. you don’t say anything in response; what are you even supposed to say? you told him everything that you wanted to the night that you two broke up. everything that you tried to bottle up for months was laid on the table that night. you watched as he listened to you, watched as his heart broke alongside yours. that was it.

“i… i’m sorry,” minho stutters, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks scared. “i’m sorry. can’t we try again? i swear i won’t let you down again. i swear to you.”

“min…” the nickname slips out of habit and for a second there, minho thinks you would say yes. but then… “i know you’re sorry. i know we didn’t break things off because we fell out of love. but i don’t think you’re at a point in your life where i can be the most important thing right now. you may not mean to, but there’ll be things that you prioritize over me… and i’m not at a place in my life where i can settle for being on someone’s back burner either. the timing’s just off. it’s not your fault, life just got in the way.”

minho stares at you, the stars dying out one by one. the hurt is beyond what any word can describe but in a way, he understands. it fucking sucks, but he gets it. he has to accept it now.

he nods solemnly, tracing odd patterns on your palms. then he asks, quietly, “can i hold you? just for a while.”

please indulge me, he thinks. this is the last thing i’ll ever ask from you.

you don’t reply with words. instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. you two stay there in each other’s embrace for god knows how long. it could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been hours. you always lose track of time when you’re wrapped up together.

you hold him like he - tough and intimidating minho - is made of glass, and he holds you like he doesn’t ever want to let you go.

but he has to eventually.

you untangle yourself from him to find that he’s been crying. the tears on his cheeks catch the light from the street lamps, reflecting like crystals in the night. when you wipe them away, you tell him, “for once, i was right.”

“about what?” he sniffles.

“you really are a hopeless romantic,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood. as much as you can anyway. “i knew you’d prove me right one day.”

minho wants to scoff but his eyes are burning from the tears and his throat feels like it's closing up, so he lets you have this one. the last one, right?

maybe he is a romantic, and maybe it’s only for you. maybe it makes him a little hopeless.

the walk back to yours ends too quickly. but truth be told, even if you had walked together until the sun came up, it still wouldn’t have been long enough for him.

you both stand there, two heavy hearts looking at each other, looking for one another.

there’s no goodbye, only goodnight.

and you’re the one who says it first.

minho returns your sentiment with a choked up voice, a brush of his fingers against yours, and when you finally turn to walk up the steps, his gaze lingers on your retreating figure.

then he calls your name softly. “hey, uhm... i’ll let you know if the scarf turns up, okay?”

you turn back with a knowing smile. it’s still sad, but there’s some faith hidden there.

“i hope it will.”

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 16.01.2024]

[seeingivy]

narc

actor!eren x reader

**part of my method acting series

--

When you open the cabinet and pull out the box of chamomile tea, there’s a note with Eren’s distinct handwriting scribbled across it. 

Boil the water for six minutes.  Add one teaspoon of the dried flowers.  Let it sit for five minutes and then strain them out.  I usually add half a teaspoon of honey to sweeten it up for you :) 

You can’t help but look up at the frame on the left – a picture of you, Marco, Maya, and Eren – with the godawful cake he got you guys last year. 

Happy New Year Birthday Anniversary 4 

It seemed that too many big things coincided on the first day of the year. Marco and Maya’s birthday, you and Eren’s anniversary, the start of the new year – so much so that Eren decided that they all deserved one big cake together. 

You rub at your tired eyes, lazily smiling at the post-it as you pull it off the top of the box, and stick it back onto the counter. It’s a quiet solace, seeing his handwriting every time you pull the box out and you can’t bring yourself to throw it away. 

You think it’s a little silly that at your very big age, Eren left you instructions on how to make tea. Sometimes it just makes you miss him more. 

You follow Eren’s quick instructions – his recent absence making you realize just how much it is that he does around the house – and open up your phone to see his location. 

He’s gone, still two thousand something miles away in California, at the hospital. You count the hours backwards, realizing that it’s probably midnight his time so he must be fast asleep and decide against calling him. 

You lean against the counter, your neck still slick from the cold sweat you woke up in, as you recount flashes of the dream you’ve been having for the past three nights. 

The dark freeway, a long white truck, and a blaring horn. 

The kettle clicks shut and you pour the water into the cup, watching the dried flowers seep a golden color to the liquid as you let it sit underneath the coaster. It must have been the pouring of the water, because you entirely miss the pitter patter of tiny footsteps – meaning, it catches you completely off guard when Marco’s wrapping his arm around your leg. 

“Can I have some?” 

You almost drop the kettle, your heart immediately racing from the shock of his presence, as you set it down, taking the few seconds to catch your breath. 

“Sorry. Did I scare you again, Mom?” he asks. 

You sigh, reaching down to lift him up onto the counter. 

“No, Marco. I was just distracted, honey, that’s all.” you respond. 

Marco gives you a distracted nod, messy brown hair and dull green eyes looking down at your cup, as he fiddles with his hands in his lap. Just like Eren. You reach forward, brushing through the tangles in his hair as you eye the clock. 

“What are you doing up?” 

“I thought you were Dad.” he responds.

You sigh, giving him a joking glare, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, little man.” 

Marco gives you a smile, as you reach for the closest cabinet, and pull out the plastic glasses to pour some milk into. You set it to warm on the kettle, as you pour the honey into your cup, and swirl the spoon around. 

“Do you know when he’ll be back? Dad?” Marco asks. 

You pause. 

No. You don’t. 

“It’ll be soon, I’m sure of it. He’s just waiting to make sure that Uncle Connie’s perfectly set up before he comes back.” 

That was a half lie. Though, you found that you had to do that often – lie about things that were too difficult to explain to the two of them. 

Things that were too complicated, and more often than not, things you just wanted to protect them from. 

That they were just too little to know about. 

Marco and Maya asked you how their namesake, the real Marco died. It was easier to tell them that it was just a car accident, not intentional in how it occurred. They asked you why Eren had a bunch of faded lines on his back when you went swimming in the pool; it was just simpler to tell them that it was a birthmark. 

They asked who Teddy’s real father was and told him that it was Sukuna. Though that one wasn’t entirely a lie. But you know what they were trying to ask. 

And just two days ago, Maya asked you if her Uncle Connie was going to die. You told her that he was just getting a checkup, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. 

Years after the fact, it seemed that the poison that Connie was putting into his body had finally caught up to him – with not only one, but two defective kidneys. And after three years on the waiting list, by some horrible twist of fate for someone else but luck for all of you, Connie was finally getting his transplant. 

That was almost three weeks ago. He’s still recovering from the surgery – having taken a whole week to wake up, another one to sit up, and now trying to walk the corridor at the ward he was in. 

You had to let Eren go. You knew that he was going to be apart from you and the kids at some point and figured that this was the best time to get over that fear of being away from him, in the soft little bubble you’ve created for yourself. 

You shake the thought from your head – of Connie sitting there, frail and alone the last time you talked to him, since visiting hours were well over – and pour the milk into the cup. You hand it over to Marco, placing the cup securely in his hands, as you try to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind. 

Five things you can see. Four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can feel. 

Eren had whispered it to you when you dropped him off at the airport, a quiet thing he did to manage his own stress. 

“What are you thinking about?” Marco asks. 

You sigh, turning over to him, and giving him a smile. 

“Five things I can see.” you respond. 

Marco was well aware of the habit. He tended to be a little more sensitive which was worrying at first – but Zeke said that it was just something that he got from Eren. That he acted exactly like he did when he was a kid. 

“I can see you. And me. The cups. And two lightbulbs.” Marco responds. 

You smile. 

“I can touch the floor with my feet. And the back of the counter with my back. The cup with my hands. And your cheek with my fingers.” you respond, reaching forward to poke at the softness of his cheek. 

Marco returns the favor, giggling under his breath as he reaches forward, tiny fingers squishing at your skin. He absentmindedly leans forward, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before he continues. 

He was every bit as affectionate as Eren. 

“I can hear you. And me. And Maya sleeping.” 

“You can’t hear Maya sleeping from here, Marco.” 

“Yeah, I can. She’s all snotty at night.” 

“Honey, those are her allergies. She can’t control that.” you respond. 

If Marco acted like Eren did as a kid, then Maya was every bit a carbon copy of you. It was something that Falco and Colt parroted constantly – the biggest fans of all her little at home concerts, her fashion shows, and most of all, her singing. 

It seems that she got the seasonal allergies too. 

“I can smell your drink and my drink.” you respond, as you down the very last bit of your cup. 

Marco seems to follow suit, draining the last of the milk from the cup before he leans forward, short arms barely wrapping around your neck as you scoop him up into your arms. The time must have caught up to him, eyes quickly lidding shut, as you switch off the lights, and lead him back to his room. 

He whispers one last thing before you tuck him into bed. 

“I can feel you here with me.” 

It’s enough to put your mind at rest to go to sleep. 

--

The doorbell rings early the next morning – at seven on the dot – and sends Marco and Maya tumbling down the stairs, their little footsteps thundering as you open up the door to Lana, Sukuna, Teddy, and Grace.  

You turn your head over your shoulder, watching as Marco and Maya’s faces drop at the sight of them, and subsequently watch them drag themselves over to the dining table. 

“Is that anyway to say hello?” Sukuna asks, chest puffed up from the clear dismissal from the both of them – which albeit, is a rare occurrence.  

Sukuna marches straight through the doorway, Lana giving you a warning glance, as you watch him hunch over the chairs – his head hanging in between Marco and Maya’s – as he gives the two of them a little glare. 

“Angie. Are you not excited to see me?” 

Angie. Sukuna’s special nickname for Maya. 

“I thought you were Eren.” Maya responds. 

“I wish he was.” Gracie mumbles, earning her a glare from Sukuna. 

It worked out well enough. Eren was Gracie’s favorite, but Sukuna was Maya’s. Naturally it irritated the both of them well enough. 

You sigh, opening your arms up to the hug that Teddy’s offering you – which Grace piles on to – as you shoot her a warning glance. 

“Maya. You’re supposed to call him Dad.” you chide. 

“But you call him Eren.” she retorts back. 

“Yeah. Because he’s not my dad. He’s just Eren to me.” you respond. 

That earns you a laugh from Teddy, as he lets go and starts passing out the plates, with Lana helping you finish making the breakfast from the kitchen. 

“How are you holding up?” she asks. 

“Yeah, yeah. Same old. Did you talk to Connie at all today?” 

You watch as Lana frowns, which sends an immediate pang to your chest. 

Eren’s contingency plan on leaving you alone – since the three of you couldn’t possibly go with him – was making sure that you were taken care of. Which included him sending Lana and Sukuna over everyday for breakfast, just so you didn’t feel lonely. 

You guys tended to get fickle with how often you’d eat breakfast together – aiming for at least once a week – but you know Eren must have said something because they were here almost every other day. 

“Think he’s doing better.” Lana responds. 

You sigh. 

“Did you talk to Eren?” 

“Yeah.” 

Eren doesn’t seem like he’s fairing well either. But you figured as much – that it would be hard for him to see Connie in this condition, because the smallest voice in his head told him that it was all his fault. 

“I feel like he’s scared to let him go. He’s…he’s scared he’s going to die while he’s not looking.” you add. 

Lana nods. 

“He could have come back a week ago. Maryam was fine handling it but I just think he…but you know how he is with Connie. They’re like brothers.” 

You hum in response. Lana leans forward, resting her head against your shoulder, as you lean into the touch. 

“You’re better than me. I feel like I’d be ten different levels of crazy if Sukuna and Teddy weren’t telling me not to worry about him.” Lana responds. 

You shrug. 

“It’s fine for the most part. Marco and Maya keep me busy. Levi calls me everyday just to update me on his lawn mowing, which takes like four hours alone. It’s all fine, I just…keep having this really weird dream.” 

“Really?” she asks. 

“I don’t know. I don’t really remember the details. All I know is that…that I’m driving a car. There’s a honking sound and then a big truck that cuts me off and makes me crash. But for some reason, I feel like…I feel like I know the person driving the truck. Like they’re…they’re making fun of me or laughing or something.”

You watch as Lana squints her eyes at you, her touch suddenly stiff, as you give her a look. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. That is weird. But it’s just a dream.” Lana responds. 

“I mean, I know. But I just…I don’t get dreams. Let alone recurring ones. I feel like I know the person or…or something about it just feels really familiar that’s all. I wake up every night just thinking about it, trying to remember what it is that I saw.” 

Lana picks up the spoon, plating the last of the eggs into the dish, as she gives you a wary look over her shoulder. 

“Stress manifests in different ways. I think this Connie thing is just stressful. Being without Eren with the kids is stressful. I don’t think it means anything.” she adds. 

Lana leans forward, pressing a kiss against your cheek, before lifting the plates, gesturing for you to follow as you take them over to the table. You take your seat next to Sukuna – who’s clearly won over Maya in the past few minutes that you were gone – as you sit next to Grace. 

“I like the ribbon, Gracie.” 

“I’m glad you said that. I made one for you too.” 

Lana taught Gracie how to sow, meaning that every time she came over, she left a few more ribbons for your collection. You rarely wore them anymore, but it was nice to keep all the gifts Gracie made for you – pink lace, little charms in the fabric. 

There’s immediate chatter the second everyone’s hands start moving – Sukuna and Maya whispering under their breaths, Teddy, Lana, and Marco talking about the recent soccer game – and the only thing you can think about is how the chair next to you is empty. 

That Eren would have been here asking Teddy about when his spelling bee is so he could go. And that he’d cut Maya’s fruits into stars with Sukuna just because she likes them that way. 

“Do you miss Eren?” 

You lean forward, placing your hand on Grace’s shoulder, as you give her a smile. 

“Just a little, Gracie. But that’s normal.” you respond. 

“He’ll be back soon enough. And Falco and Gabi should be back next week, so…we’ll have more people at breakfast. We’ll have to start ordering chairs for how many of us there are.” 

You laugh. 

“That’s a good problem to have.” 

You can’t help but think that three blocks down, only a few years prior, Eren, Lana, and Teddy used to eat breakfast together every morning, because that’s all they had. And now you barely had enough seats to fill the table. 

You think about how it would kill you if Connie never came back to eat breakfast with you guys. 

“Y/N. Can you help me practice for the spelling bee tomorrow?” Teddy asks. 

You smile. 

“Of course, Teddy Bear.” 

Teddy curls his nose in disgust. 

“Y/N. Don’t call me that. It’s not cool.” he murmurs. 

The older Teddy gets, the more he seems to curl his nose at all of the sweet nicknames you all have for him. He barely lets Eren hug him anymore, instead trying to make weird over complicated handshakes – that Eren can obviously never remember. 

Your phone buzzes on the table to four texts from Eren. 

[eren]: connie made a very obscure pop culture reference today that honestly kind of freaked out his VERY old nurse

[eren]: it was giving ** erwin ** 

[eren]: the world is healing 

[eren]: i miss you! 

--

You appreciate the routine of things. That every night, you comb through Maya and Marco’s wet hair, that you all brush your teeth together, and that you all read a story together before you go to sleep. 

“I have a question.” 

You close the little book – an old version of Goodnight Moon that Jean and Mikasa gifted you when Marco and Maya were born – and slide it into the shelf. 

“Do share, Miss Maya.” you respond. 

That’s what Eren always calls her. Miss Maya. 

“How did you spend so much time away from Eren?” Maya asks.

“Maya.” you berate. 

“Sorry. Dad. How did you spend so much time away from Dad? Like before when you were little?” she asks. 

You pause. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s only been a few weeks and…and I miss him.” Maya mumbles, the tiniest crack in her voice. 

You can feel your chest ache as you lean forward, wrapping your arms around her little body as she leans up, her salty tears spilling straight onto your neck. 

“Oh, Maya.” you coo. 

“I know he’s gone for a good reason and I’m not mad at him. I’m sad about Uncle Connie too but I just wish he was here. And Uncle Connie was too.” she responds, voice muffled by how she’s burying her face into your shirt. 

It’s not even a few seconds before you hear another set of sniffling, only to find Marco getting out of his bed and clinging to your side too. 

You can’t help it – you can’t help that there’s warm tears in your eyes too as you rest your head against their freshly shampooed hair, and hold them tight. 

You sit there quietly for some time – Marco and Maya’s tears subsiding long before yours – but they make no inclination of letting go. You appreciate that. And it’s not long before they fall asleep, before you tuck them into their sheets, and wipe your own tears before going to bed.

The pictures of Connie on the wall feel like they’re mocking you. 

And like clockwork, it happens again. 

A cold sweat down your back – because the truck almost hits you, because you swear you can hear laughing, and a clicking sound that you can’t really place. You’re barely asleep for two hours. 

You make a mental note. That the clicking sound is new, but you still can’t really remember much besides that. Only that it’s really dark. 

When you make it down to the kitchen, you find Marco hunched over, with Maya on his back. You can’t help but laugh – only because this reminds you of Colt – and watch them for a second before interrupting. 

“Push higher.” 

“I’m trying to, you’re too heavy, Maya.” 

“I can’t reach the cups from here.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m trying. That’s easy to say from down there.” 

You flick the last of the lights open – the ones they can’t reach – as they both turn around, Maya nearly toppling off his back – as you put your hands on your hips. 

“You want my help?” 

“Please.” Maya groans. 

Maya rubs the sore spot on her back, giving you a quiet nod as Marco moves over, and you reach for the cups. The two of them drain their cups of milk the second you fill them – clearly overexerted from the rhythmic gymnastics they were attempting a few minutes ago – as you nurse the cup of chamomile in your hand. 

“You know, this is way better when Eren makes it.” Maya states. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Dad.” 

“It’s too bitter when you do it.” 

You shake your head at Maya, reaching forward to pinch her cheek before responding. 

“My apologies, Miss Maya. I’ll call him tomorrow and ask him what he puts in yours. Knowing him, he does something different for each of us to make sure that we like it.” you respond. 

So quick to accommodate, an endless amount of space in his mind to remember everything – Maya wears ribbons on Thursdays, she doesn’t like the purple ones. Marco likes to read Goodnight Moon in the winter, not the summer, because the bunny reminds him of snow. 

The light in the doorway flicks on, accompanied by a very tired looking Eren, who gives you a very weak smile through the dim light.

“I put honey in Maya’s because she thinks it’s bitter, sweetheart. Only half a teaspoon, because then she gets kind of antsy.” Eren mumbles. 

You turn to your left and watch as Maya and Marco both try to tumble off the counter, excited giggles as they run over to Eren, clinging on to the fabric of his shirt as they basically scream in his ear. 

You can feel warm tears burning in the back of your eyes as Eren leans down, arms wrapped around the two of them, as he seems to breathe a sigh of relief – nestling his head in between the two of theirs. 

You’re almost positive that he missed them more than they missed him.

Which was saying something. 

“Hi M&M.” Eren mumbles. 

Their favorite candy. For obvious reasons. 

“You too, sweetheart. Come here.” Maya adds, extending out one of her hands to you. 

You swallow down the burning feeling in your throat, taking one last look up to dry your tears, before crouching down on the ground with them, Eren’s hand being the one that wraps around you first. 

“Maya. It’s Mommy. Not sweetheart.” Eren chides. 

You can’t help but laugh – remembering that it was only a few months ago that Maya realized that your name wasn’t actually sweetheart, that it was just a nickname that Eren used for you – as you lean your temple against his. 

“Okay, it’s really late. Dad’s going to tuck you into bed, okay?” you respond. 

Marco and Maya give you an affirmative nod, as Eren scoops both of them up into an arm each – something you’re too weak to do at this point – as you watch them all trail down the hallway. 

“Did you miss me?” Eren asks. 

“So much. We even cried about it earlier!” Marco responds. 

Eren immediately frowns as he kicks his shoes off at the door, quietly padding into the darkness of their room. Lana’s phone call was very brief – only warning him about the weird dreams you were having – but he didn’t realize that they were feeling it too. 

Eren sets them both down, reaching for Maya first as he tucks the sheets in around her. 

“Buddy, what do you mean by that? You cried about it earlier?” Eren asks, glancing over his shoulder. 

“We all miss you so much we cried. Even sweetheart.” Maya responds. 

Eren doesn’t take the time to correct her. He reaches down, pressing a kiss to Maya’s forehead, before brushing through the flyaways around her head. 

“She did?” 

“Mhm. Longer than me and Marco too. I heard Auntie Lana say it’s because she’s having weird dreams about Marco. You know, the other Marco. The one who died.” 

Eren nods. It’s the only reason that he was able to bring himself home and leave Connie. Only because he didn’t realize how fast time had passed. 

“I know the one.” 

“She’s okay though. She told me herself.” Maya adds. 

Eren sighs. 

“I know she is.” 

Eren switches over to Marco’s side which makes his chest pang a little bit more – the seeping ache of being gone for so long, to be at his side – making his throat burn. 

“Everything good, Marco?” 

It’s at that second that Marco jumps out of his sheets, little arms wrapped around his neck, as Eren sinks against his shoulder. 

“Is Uncle Connie okay?” 

Eren smiles. 

“He went home last night, Marco. He’s going to be just fine.” Eren responds. 

Marco gives him a nod, before lying back down against the sheets. 

“I heard Uncle Sukuna say that Mommy was just scared that he was going to die. He’s not going to die, right?” 

Eren makes a mental note to call Lana and Sukuna tomorrow and ask them to refrain from gossiping until they get home.  

“He’s not going to die, Marco. He’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Connie really missed you both.” 

Marco gives him a nod, Eren pressing one last lingering kiss to his forehead, before padding out of the room and flicking the light shut. Eren shuffles back out to the kitchen, noting the open packet of ramen on the counter, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your frame. 

He’d deal with them in the morning. You first. 

Eren can’t help but nestle into the crook in your shoulder – and noting that you immediately flinch at the feeling. 

“Sorry. I meant to shave before I got back. I know it tickles.” Eren whispers. 

You laugh. 

“S’okay. I’ll help you tomorrow, Eren.” you mumble. 

Eren leans down, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo and soap mixed in, as he leans his cheek against yours. 

Eren ranked all the moments in his head. Sweet memories that felt like lightbulbs to him – the way they stuck out in his memory – but he always had his favorites. 

Watching Maya play the piano. Teaching Marco how to take polaroids of you and Maya. Marco meeting Armin and Maya telling Jean his haircut sucked. 

And his personal favorite was letting his beard grow out just to the point where it annoyed you – just so you’d offer to shave it for him. Attentive fingers, eyes focused and without fail, a sweet kiss and a hug at the end for his clean shaven face. 

It was one of the things that was always promised. That you’d complain, that he’d pretend to hate it when you shaved his beard, and that you’d kiss him afterwards. That you’d taste like toothpaste because you just brushed your teeth and then go to sleep next to him after the fact. 

Eren can’t help but squeeze harder. 

“You know, you’ll cut off my circulation any second now.” 

“Any reason you didn’t come running at me?” Eren asks. 

“The little speedsters beat me to it. They missed you a lot, you know?” you respond. 

Eren laughs. 

“Not as much as you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Eren shrugs. It takes you three seconds to clock it, before you roll your eyes. 

Of course they told him that you cried earlier. 

“Who was the narc?” 

“There was no narc. I just know how to read you really well.” Eren responds

“Eren.” 

“A gentleman never tells.” 

“I know they both told you. I just want to know who did it first.” you clarify. 

Eren smiles. 

“Marco, of course.” 

You laugh. 

“He’s really living up to the name. The only narc bigger than him was the other Marco.” 

Telling Jean when Mikasa was upset at him. Telling Connie that Sasha forgot his birthday. 

You feel Eren lift off of you, two hands firm on your shoulder, as he drags you closer to him. It’s warm hands that cup your face and it’s only then that you notice that his green eyes are rimmed with red and that he looks tired. 

“I missed you too, you know?” Eren whispers. 

You smile. 

“I know.” 

“You can just ask Maryam. I even cried about it.” 

You snort, the tiniest wave of embarrassment peeling off of you, as you lean forward, wrapping your hands around his face. 

“Really?” 

“You already know that I’m already of the opinion that I’ve spent far too much of my life without you. That includes two weeks in California, Y/N.” Eren responds, voice soft. 

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“How’s Connie?” you ask. 

Eren smiles. 

“He brought a framed picture of all of us from our wedding to the hospital room. He’s been fine this entire time.” 

You snort. 

“Typical.” 

Eren laughs. 

“He told the nurse you were his sister when she asked about the picture. So much so that they were ready to add you to his health documents and start screening you for blood diseases or some shit because he thought you were actually related.” 

You both laugh. And you relish in the fact that Connie was still there, underneath his beaten body. 

“Teddy is coming tomorrow for spelling bee practice. Gracie gave me two new ribbons – pink and purple with lace – and Maya wasn’t even excited to see Sukuna yesterday.” you state. 

Eren’s eyes light up. 

“Really?” 

“Hold your horses, Eren. It took her two seconds before she was happy to see him again.” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Well, Gracie’s coming tomorrow, so he can kiss my ass. And Falco too in a few days and you know I’m obviously his favorite.” Eren asks. 

You shake your head at him. Always trying to one up Sukuna – something that was natural, since they were both so good with kids. 

“You know, I didn’t even realize how big our family got before our eyes.” you whisper. 

Eren smiles, before leaning forward, and closing the space between the two of you. He tastes like the remnants of the cookie – dusted sugar and coffee – hanging on his lips. 

“Sometimes I forget I used to dream about this entire thing. Being away kind of reminded me of that.”  Eren whispers. 

“This entire thing?” 

“You and me, the most. But also friends that live a few streets away. Teddy feeling like he has cousins and…and having kids.” 

You smile. 

“You know your kids adore you, right? 

Eren smiles. 

“They just have a recency bias. They love you way more than me.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I don’t make their milk right.” 

Eren pinches your cheek. 

“And I don’t do Maya’s hair the way she likes it or make Marco’s bed properly. Same thing.” 

You smile.. 

“They love us both. We’re both very lucky to have two healthy kids and a family that’s…that’s mostly healthy, that’s all together.” 

Eren pauses, a light glisten in his eyes. You can tell that he doesn’t feel that. 

“Eren?” 

“Tell me about this dream of yours.” he mumbles. 

You groan. 

“Lana?” 

“Technically Maya mentioned it too.” Eren adds. 

You smile. 

“It’s just a weird dream that I’ve been having. S’always dark and I’m driving. There’s a horn and clicking and I just wake up feeling all frazzled. I think I was just worrying about Connie too much.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Maybe.” 

“You don’t sound very convinced.” you state.

Eren sighs, scooching over as he leans towards the bowl of simmering noodles, straining them into the bowl that you have placed at the side. You can’t help but lean against his arm, Eren absentmindedly placing a kiss in your hair, as you watch the steam. 

“Did you know that Maryam drove me to the hospital everyday to see Connie?” 

You snort. 

“Do you have no concern for your life? You are a father now, you know?” 

You’re half convinced that Maryam hypnotized someone to get her license at the DMV. Or that she somehow became legally blind the few minutes that she sat behind the wheel. 

“I mean, I do. But I just couldn’t bring myself to drive.” 

You pause. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I would just sit in the chair and get all…all anxious just sitting there. I couldn’t even put the key in the engine.” 

You lean forward, rubbing your hands up and down his biceps. 

“Any reason why?” you ask. 

Eren signs, before leaning forward, with his eyes focused on the calendar. 

“You know, you always forget to change the calendar.” 

“I don’t really look at it.” you state. 

Eren leans forward, switching the page from last month to the current one, which is when you notice it. 

That it’s June. That it’s been June for a few days now and that you didn’t even keep track of the numbers. 

“When did your dream start?” Eren asks. 

You get it now. 

“Four days ago.” you state, throat dry. 

Eren gives you a halfhearted smile, as he counts backwards, all the way to June 11th. 

The day that Marco died. And you didn’t even realize. That you went about your business that day – taking Maya to piano, dropping off Teddy at school – and you didn’t even think about it. 

“Oh my god, Eren.” you mumble. 

“That’s when I couldn’t drive. I…I didn’t necessarily remember, but…but it just felt wrong.” 

“I forgot.” you whisper. 

“So did I.” Eren responds. 

You feel the tears burn out of your sockets as you realize – realize that Marco’s death anniversary passed and you forgot, that you were already in the early hours of his birthday and you didn’t remember – and that time was passing so fast you can’t even remember what he looks like anymore. 

You can’t help but lean forward, wracking quiet tears into Eren’s shoulder, as you realize the dream. The clicking sounds were camera flashes, the car cuts you off and you crash, and you feel like you know them, because the paparazzi always seem familiar to you. 

You were dreaming about Marco dying. From Marco’s perspective. And Eren can’t get in the car, because he’s petrified it’s going to happen to him. 

The thought crosses your mind that Eren rushed back so fast – so fast because he was worried about you. 

Not because of the dream, but because of that day. Because when Lana told him that Marco died – she didn’t specify his name. And his first thought was you – he thought you were the one who died. 

He was always reminded of it, that feeling, whenever the day came around. The fear of you dying. You wonder if it crossed his mind a few days ago. 

Eren lets go, shuffling behind you to rummaging through the fridge. 

“Anything close to cake?” 

“There should be a cookie or two. Maybe at the top.” you mumble. 

Eren slams the door shut behind you, as you reach for the drawer on the left, pulling out the colored flame candles from Grace’s surprise birthday, as Eren joins you at your side, plating the cookie in the center. 

You jam the wax candle into the center, Eren quick with the matches at your side as you watch the flame light up purple, and the two of you lean closer to the warmth. 

It was the one tradition that you and Eren afforded yourself. That every year on Marco’s birthday, you made a wish for him. And after the fact, you wouldn’t reminisce on it at all – not unless it was happy. 

It’s what he would have wanted. 

“You first, Eren.” 

Eren sighs. 

“I wish you were still here with us. But I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Marco.” 

Eren’s wish is the same every year. 

You smile, leaning your head against Eren’s shoulder. 

“I know you told us you’d haunt us if we ever apart, but I didn’t realize that applied to domestic travel, Marco.” 

Eren gives you a teary laugh. 

“I hope you’re resting easy, wherever you are. Come visit me in my dreams the good way. Keep all the bad stuff away.” you mumble.

You and Eren give each other a look, before lightly blowing out the candles together, and wrapping yourselves in each other’s embrace. 

You remember shreds of a very vague dream the next morning. 

It’s your wedding day. But somehow Marco and Maya are there, giggling as they pass the two of you rings. 

And the other Marco’s standing there too, smiling and giving his approval.

--

an: ah yes. method acting in the lords month august 2024. had to make it angsty for obvious reasons. we all know who I am at my core. also why did this make me cry I miss this fic so much

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha�� @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @chericos @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori i @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[bahrtofane]

i dont want to leave

-----

When Jude finds himself slipping from your life. He chooses to leave it completely, for your sake. 

Jude x reader 

Word count - 700+

Watch it - angst angst and angst 

-----

Judes first appearance to your modest little apartment in months turns into him begging and pleading for you to find someone better. 

Someone who doesn't make you wait all day for a reply, someone who isnt in 3 time zones in one day, someone who has time.

Jude has many things, many luxuries and commodities that fill his home and surround his daily life. Fame and fortune that follow him, recognition. Riches.  

Time is not one of them. between games just about every other day, events and press appearances, media days and content recording. He is exhausting every second of his day.

He knows he's not making enough time for you. And now he's begging for you to move on  

Sitting cross legged on your couch, in red and black plaid pj pants and a hoodie he grabbed from his hamper. He made his way to you as soon as he could. Even if it meant after doing a virtual interview from his room, he grabbed his wallet and keys, sprinting out the door.

“Please…” he tries again. His eyes droop and he can not pick them up to face you. Can not meet your gaze. His eye bags look horrid and his skin is taking on a sickly sheen you saw last when he came down with the flu. 

You shake your head, “Jude. listen to what you're saying. You want me to leave because you're busy?”

“I'm saying I'm not good to or for you. I'm never around. I barely reply. I forget things. I never know what you're up to or what's going on. Im shit. And you don't deserve that.” he tries again, keeping his head down and picking at his nails. 

“But I love you. Busy or not.” you sigh.

“And I love you. So much that you have to let me go.” 

“I don't want to leave you,” you cross your arms.

He rubs his eyes. Its been back and forth like this for what feels like an hour now. This will get nowhere if he simply lets this continue. 

He slides a leg from under him, swinging it against your couch, “then I will.”

Your face morphs into one of pain, but he knows you can't keep living like this. He can't keep making false promises and hurting you. No matter how many times you say it's okay. He was late to your birthday for fucks sake. He doesn't know your friends names, do you even still watch that show? He's losing who you are and it's no one's fault but his own. 

He scoots to you, gently taking your hands in his, “I know you'll find someone who treats you the way you need. And I'm sorry I couldn't.”

Tears begin to swell in your eyes, lip trembling as you shake your head, “you can't,” you cry out weakly. But it's too late. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, getting up from his seat and gently closing the door behind him, with a little too much force than intended.

The little framed picture of the two of you that hangs on the wall next to the door shakes and wobbles. It only makes you cry harder. 

You remember that day. He took you to the fair, buying you all the stupid food you could ever want. (the deep fried ice cream gave you a run for your money in the bathroom). He won every prize at those silly games. Even if it took him 50 tries and a whole lotta cash to do so. 

There was a little man walking around with a polaroid camera. A sign reading “$2 for a picture” painted in bright green lettering hanging from an old withered string around his neck.

You took 4. 

Your favorite, the one on the wall, stares back at you mockingly. Hands held together while your heads are thrown back, soft yellow and pink light from the ferris wheel behind you painting your faces. You'll need to take that down you suppose.

You want to scream, but instead only tears fall. Can he see he's the one that's meant for you? Busy or not, forgetful, tired, moody, cranky. You love him through it all. Can he see that?

You try to call him, blinking away the tears as you fish your phone from your pocket.  Pressing on the screen harshly and putting it on speaker, but they all go to voicemail. You suppose that's that.

His first visit in months. And he's never coming back. 

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Bullseye

Robin wasn't against marriage. The president was rather insistent that he get married and carry on the bloodline. Producing stronger archers for the next generation.

Most called him a prodigy, but truthfully, he wouldn't have gotten far without his nee-chan. She was the one who trained him. He wouldn't be half as good if not for her.

He didn't really understand the sad look in Bachiko's eyes when his engagement was finally announced. "I'm sorry Robbie..." Why was she so sad?

Just because he was getting married, it didn't mean he had to stop doing the things he loved. Besides, the president was the one who picked his bride. He was sure that everything would work out!

He dashed to the training grounds excitedly. He was supposed to meet her today! He wondered what she'd be like? Would it take time to win her over? Would she be sweet?

Whose to say? One moment, he's zipping by the next he crash lands into a pit. He lands on his back, staring up at the sky, confused. Did one of his cousins dig a hole?

A shadow peers over him. It's not anyone he recognizes. Her long hair flowing past her shoulder as she leans over, getting a better look at him. His jaw drops, and he can only stare back.

His heartbeat is pounding rapidly in his chest. He wonders if she can hear it echoing? She continues looking at him and then... he hears it. She laughs.

It's the most gorgeous sound he's ever heard. She sits on the edge of the hole, kicking her feet amused. An amused look crossing her pretty features. This had to be her.

This had to be the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He literally springs into action, jumping into her lap and knocking her over. He grins brightly. "Hi! I'm Robin, your future husband!"

She stares up at him amused. She's taller than him, her long hair fanning out behind her. She pokes him in the nose with a manicured nail. "My... you're confident."

He chuckles and leans closer, so their nose to nose. "I aim to please!" He suddenly feels himself being tossed up into the air. His eyes widen. She rolls away.

He swings upside-down, getting his barings. A snare. First a pit, now a snare? Did she? She stands in front of him. He's at perfect eye level with her. She hums and walks around him.

He watches her use her magic. Trap magic is different than any kind of magic he's seen. An array of ropes flaring out and stringing around him like a web.

He laughs and activates his own magic. The angle is awkward, but his aim is true. An outline of arrows surrounds her silhouette. She looks at him in awe.

And he can see the hearts in her eyes. His arrow never misses. A bullseye straight through the heart! He knew it would all work out!

He was so glad that the president assigned him such a cool wife! He couldn't wait to tell all his peers! His wife was the prettiest, smartest demon ever. He manages to cut the snare and rush over to her.

She simply smiles at him. And just when he's about to reach her... he crashes it the tree behind her. His head spins as he looks up at her. Her gorgeous leather wings fanned out behind her.

Was this... a game? He loved games! His chaotic grin spreads across his face. She gives a sharp flick of her wings and takes off. His unleashes behind her and soars into the air after her.

She's fast, and she seems to know every trick in the book. It makes him want to catch her even more. Just a little more. Almost there. He reaches his hand out and grasps her ankle.

He let's out a shout of victory too soon. Her tail wraps around his waist and flicks him away. He hadn't realized how close they were to the clans stronghold. That is until he came crashing through the window.

The president stares at him for a moment. Holding his pipe out. "Are you enjoying yourself, my boy?" He asked. Robin sprang up quickly. "She's amazing! I'm gonna try again!"

Just before he can jump through the broken window, she lands in the frame, her tail waving behind her. She tilts her head at him. "What a silly imp you are..."

She crosses her legs and leans against the wall. "Really!" Does that mean she likes him? He can't stop the stars in his eyes. She giggles. "You're quite stupid, aren't you? Mmm... I like that in a demon."

"You do!" He cheers. "Please take good care of me... Robbie-Chan." He feels ready to explode and do a thousand victory laps. He can do that. He'll gladly take care of his new spouse!

[maxybabyy]

The power has been out for an hour when he finds the kid looming around in the hallway.

He’s in the same old NYU shirt that Daniel always sees him in. The shoulder seams hang loose from his frame, and there’s a giant hole in the sleeve, big enough to fit a thumb through if you tried. Max must have done that before, he thinks, chewing away at the strings. The silly plastic thing is gone too, leaving nothing but the frayed tips.

“I reckon it’s gonna be out for a while,” he says when Max just keeps staring at the emergency light flicker. The one fucking thing this shitty building actually has. Maintenance is shit, and he’s pretty sure there’s a new species of black mould growing in the hallway window. But at least their little void on the seventh floor follows the safety guidelines.

He taps his socked foot against Max’s scruffy sneakers, watches him turn around with a frown.

“I was playing with my friends, and then the electricity went out. I thought it was for me only, so I checked the fuses,” Max tells him with his hands high in the air, his fingers flicking along with his words. Daniel doesn’t even know where he would look for the fuse box in his shithole of a studio. “But it is of course the entire building. I think maybe it is the lightning,” he adds.

“Nah, the building is just shit,” Daniel tells him. “If it’s not a water leak or a fucking rat problem, it’s the power. Same old shit and they won’t fix it. Just wait until winter when the heating will go away too.”

Daniel has learned to keep himself busy when the snow starts falling. LA, in particular, is great around Christmas when New York becomes too unbearable.

“I was here in the winter also,” Max says, gestures to door where he lives like Daniel doesn’t already know. “It was so nice of you, giving me a Christmas present. I of course had not bought you anything, but you said –“

Blake had dropped off the newest batch of merch samples right around New Year’s, and they had all been shit. The design was wrong, and the colour palette was completely off. They still haven’t gotten the peach the right colour, but the other shit looks fine now. Back then Max had – he would walk around in the same fucking shirt he’s wearing now. Skinny jeans frayed at the hem in a way they aren’t supposed to be, a rolodex of white tee shirts from Target, and a thin, barely-there windbreaker to fend off the cold.

Daniel had given him the leftover merch, he had to. There was no fucking way he couldn’t do it.

He taps Max’s shoe again, watches him crack a grin before he nods his head towards his apartment. “Do you wanna come in? I just have like, a candle and shit, but we can chill until the power comes back.”

Max nods and follows him inside.

Daniel doesn’t offer him a beer, sips at the can while they both watch the flicker of the wick. He doesn’t have another candle, so this one will have to last, the whispers of sea breeze faint between them.

He’s telling Max about his latest gig – some dive bar with a shitty ironic name like Cheers or Sam’s, or shit like that – when Max reaches out to poke at the candle. His skin looks glowing in the candlelight, a warm contrast to Max’s usual pale skin. His fingers look long, elegant as they curl around the candle, his thumb stroking over the dripping wax like it was –

“Daniel?” Max prompts, eyes flickering from the wick to his face and back again, “The drummer is of course an idiot, but it went alright, you said?”

Daniel jerks back into the couch. He swallows loudly. Tries and fails to convince himself he hadn’t been zoning out on the kid’s hands like a fucking weirdo. Safety first, he thinks faintly, can’t have a fucking fire during a power outage.

Max keeps playing with the candle wax, making it drip down onto Daniel’s shitty white wood Ikea table he had carried home in the subway. But every time he touches it, Max sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, presses down to make it run faster, and Daniel cannot find it in himself to stop him.

Max’s in the middle of a story about his family dog back in the Netherlands, when he accidentally touches the flame. He’s quick to pull back, hissing loudly as he sucks his pointer and middle finger into his mouth with a muddled, “Fuck!”

“Careful!” Daniel scolds. He’s already halfway across the couch reaching for him like a fucking mother hen. But instead of his hand, Daniel grabs onto Max’s thigh in his panic, the muscle firm in his grip. Max watches him back, flexes his thigh as he sucks the fingers deeper into his obnoxiously big, oddly fitting mouth, and Daniel cannot keep – has to look away.

Stares at Max’s knees instead, awkward and protruding and littered with odd bruises.

Daniel wonders how he got them, forces himself to think of less nefarious reasons for how they could appear. Once, Daniel had gotten so drunk that Scotty couldn’t get him to come down from the bar, dancing away until he felt dizzy with exhaustion and drink.

Back then, when his body had been young and spry, he had slammed to his knees before swinging his legs to the side to get off the bar. They had been black and blue for a week before his knees had recovered.

But Max doesn’t let him ponder for long, slides to the floor in a move impossibly fluid for someone to not have done it a hundred times over. He’s quick to reach for Daniel's jeans, one hand still spit-slick as he pulls at the zipper, and Daniel has to – cannot let him do this.

“Hey, mate,” he says, laughs nervously. “Aren’t you like sixteen or something?”

Once, he had tried to give the kid a twenty so he could buy himself some food for the night. Gaunt cheeks and lanky body a cruel reminder of his own teens. Refusing money from Grace and Joe to prove he hadn’t screwed up by running away to America to make it big.

But the kid didn’t take the money and had instead stared at him, brows drawn together much like he is now. “I’m nineteen,” he says.

“In a year or two, maybe.” Daniel scoffs. But still, he doesn’t move. Max’s hand stays on his dick, heavy and warm despite the temperature of the apartment. “Be real, man. I’m fine with you sticking around but –“

Max snarls. He stays on his knees, but Daniel cannot meet his eyes, stares himself blind where his jeans have become undone. “Always you do this. You are so kind to me, flirting with me, but then you run away when I respond!

“Now you ask me to come to your apartment, with the mood lighting also, and again you will not touch me. This is not fair, Daniel.” Max says and digs his nails into his thighs, forces Daniel to look at him – at the furious glare and the too-red lips.

It’s unfair how good he looks sitting between Daniel’s spread thighs. There’s a dusting of pale, blonde hair at the top of his thighs where his shorts have crawled up, and his entire face is flushed with emotion. It’s all Daniel can do to not put a better name to it – the death of creativity for once not a foe. His cheekbones sit high and sharp on his face, a mole on his lip revealed only when Max doesn’t bite into it, looking so fucking pretty.

Maybe that’s why he’s here of all places. Scouted off the fucking streets and put in a shitty apartment in some mirror nightmare of Daniel’s, waiting impatiently for Vogue to call.

Max is still staring at him, and Daniel doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s not going to fucking card Max in his own apartment, that’s a cunt move. Max would probably throw the card in his face, if he asked, indignant little glare before he would lean in and –

“Yeah, alright,” he whispers but it’s enough. Max hears him, and he does lean in to pull his jeans the rest of the way off.

Max takes him into his mouth, lips stretched around the head almost obscenely, and suddenly Daniel has to force himself to close his eyes shut. It’s too much already, watching Max take him even deeper into his mouth as his head thumps back against the couch. He clearly knows what he’s doing, relaxing his throat as he goes. His hands are firm on Daniel’s hips, keeping a steady pressure until Daniel gets with the programme and fucks into his mouth.

He barely has the time to let Max know before he’s coming. But Max doesn’t move, keeps him on his tongue until his mouth is full and Max has to swallow.

“Shit, Maxy,” he moans, thighs still shaking as Max climbs to his feet. “You’re not. You don’t have to –“ But Max doesn’t leave, drops into Daniel’s lap with his shorts abandoned on the floor.

Max jerks himself off with one hand balanced on Daniel’s shoulder. It’s closer than Daniel’s been to someone else’s dick in years, since Scotty got down on one knee and fucked everything up. A cock is a cock is a cock, but Max’s dick looks almost pretty held in his own fist.

It makes him think of the fucking candle from before, how the wax had dripped between his fingers, and how quick he had been to suck them into his mouth, like he had just done to Daniel, to his dick.

“Daniel,” Max begs, watches Daniel watch him fuck into his own hand desperately. “Please.”  

“Okay, yeah. I got you, Maxy.” He says and slips his fingers into Max’s mouth. It’s only the first two, but his dick still jerks at the reminder of the warm heat of Max’s mouth, the tight pressure and how his tongue cannot keep still. Max whines when he pulls them out, shoots him another furious look that is quickly replaced with a shout when Daniel brushes over his hole. “Like that, yeah?”

Max nods, eyes wide for another moment before they screw themselves shut as he comes with another sound. It’s another few minutes before Max speaks again, the words muffled against Daniel’s chest where he still hasn’t moved. “What’s that?”

Max huffs and sits upright, rubs at the spot on Daniel’s shirt where his dick has left a smear. “I said, the lights are back.” He says, gestures to the room now bathed in light.

“Oh.” Daniel couldn’t tell you when that happened, if it was before Max went to his knees or after. The candle still flickers behind them, pools of wax already hardened on the wood. “I guess they are, yeah.”

[mysteryanimator]

SENSES - Animatic breakdown :D

Breaking down my panels because I am silly and I know some people wanted me to break down my thoughts for this. THOUGH, I still leave a lot up for interpretation!

You can watch it here :D

(Also I ended up adding subtitles to this, so you can see what panels get timed to each lyric)

(I won't go through every single panel since 30 image limit BUT please know that 99.9% of the panels have been beamed with a lot of symbolism. I'm very passionate about this subject, esp with drama scenes LOL)

Also here proving to myself I don't use ten billion close up shots HAHAHAH, ty for three days ago me for thumbnailing everything

SECTION 1- MIZRAK'S POV

yes, the first verse and first chorus is from Mizrak's perspective/second verse is from Olrox's perspective.

OK, not only is the establishing shot, but it kinda establishes the major symbolism stuff I play into- hands and windows! Connection and dividers! Please keep in mind eyes are the window to the soul :D

It very much informs the entire animatic LOL.

From here on out (till a certain point :3) the window acts as a divider. This shot will be important for later btw :))) Also I have a feeling Olrox would say something like "Destiny always seemed make believe."

Fun fact, I ended up dropping a wip section 01 to a few people and they were all eviscerated by the part of Mizrak reaching for Olrox. This acted like a screen test for me and later informed me to focus on Mizrak's hand for a few more shots.

WHICH, BY WAY THE CHORUS BREAKUP SECTION FROM MIZRAK'S POV:

I won't delve too much into here, BUT mentally i decided that when interpreting the chorus, it was as if they were speaking to each other. It also happens again for the bridge part :DDD

SECTION 2- OLROX'S POV

What was important to me was getting Olrox's POV on Mizrak, since in Nocturne we explored Mizrak getting insight into Olrox's past I went "omg, let's do the reverse!" and get Olrox to gather insight on Mizrak's past.

I've perceived Mizrak to be a lot more snappier with his co-workers and friends (take for insistence him yelling at the other monks, and being a lot more direct without fanfare with Richter and Maria in the first ep)

PARALLELS !!! Which, the abbey is intentionally overlayed over Olrox, hahaha Mizrak needs to choose between duty and desire :))))) Also this is the sole reason why the placements are skewed heavily to one side, so they can literal mirrored version of each other and be put side by side.

I actually debated myself a lot for this part, because the plan was going to go in a very different direction, however I thought having them not facing the camera, much like how they both can't seem to face themselves (or each other directly for this matter). Which I noticed was a huge thing with the character acting between those two characters.

ANOTHER CALL BACK LOL. Also I personally interpret Mizrak saying "we make our own destiny".

Mizrak reaching out !!! Also, while there is no window, the wood panels are there to substitute for the division theme. Olrox is standing on that divide and Mizrak has to decide if he wants to "break" through that divider.

SECTION 3 - omg they do it

OK, the scenes where they do the deed!!! By this point I feel like you guys are already getting very used to all the call-back scenes, so instead of doing a mirrored version of the first chorus scene, I decided to make all of the lyrics a contradiction to what was happening on screen. This helps for the hard cut to their argument hit sooo much harder (well i would hope sooooo LOL)

also if this shot feels familar, It's from an animation wip I'm working on that's been shelved for now because of uni HAHAH

A fight? No no, you're getting them fuc-

HAND, this will be the only time they will touch hands. The only time they connect. Also I like the contradiction with the "leave me alone with all of my questions", while they literally hold hands as they do it LOL.

SECTION 4- The argument

OK SO, me explaining these frame isn't super important, its more so a fun fact BUT going back to them using parts of the song as their "dialogue", I thought it would be fun to have them jab at each other. SO when Olrox is paired with:

"Know you fell for the person that tried to be someone they're not." Olrox is taking a jab at Mizrak for not being himself.

"You long for a feeling you'll never get back and I'm scared that you'll finally give up." Mizrak is taking a jab at Olrox for being a 'coward'.

HA, so remember eyes are window to the soul? Well so I decided that for this argument section, I wanted to give off that the argument here was literally going to dig DEEP, so I just ended up reusing the exact same lighting/posing for them. Which is the reason why they're both dead center (and it helps make this section slightly disorientating).

Which by the way, I noticed in Nocturne, these characters don't face each other directly when being vulnerable- they're always like behind or off to their side. The only times where they've been face to face properly are these:

"You're an animal whose soul died centuries ago." "Oh, has the world abandoned you Mizrak?"

They're jabbing into each other's inner psyche, so I wanted to do that here :D

Yes, that is right. Briefly you see Olrox's lover and Olrox's amercia fit. I thought it would be SO angsty for the earring piece to come from Olrox's previous lover. Also the past versions only start appearing during the "but the one you'll never love." :))))))

Btw I'm not 100% solid on Olrox's prev lover design, but I'd love to develop him more someday (if he doesn't get further developed season 2)

SECTION 5- Aftermath

From here on out, I make the references so much more obvious! For Olrox waking up I ended up going backward of the introduction! Which as a final note, the abbey and Olrox are on opposite sides of the divide :)))

Also, around this time I had realised "oh I have 30 seconds left and I want this done now or else it'll fester and rot in my brain, making me unable to do anything else until I finish it." So instead of completely making new assets from scratch, a much more straightforward parallel was in order (and it makes it super angsty too, which double points)

The ending I wanted to leave very open ended! However, I will make it known that he crosses over that divider when he balls his hands into fists, unlike how he was unable to when I first showed this exact shot.

Also these are the three shots I reference back to for this final scene. Mizrak ends up crossing over that divide, much like he did when the animatic started. WHICH AGAIN, you are super free to infer and make up your own thoughts as to why these scenes were crucial for referencing.

By the way, every time we have seen Mizrak from the chest down, it starts from the back, then the side, and now the front :))))

As a side note, every time I cut off a character's head (specifically eyes too) in a shot, it is very purposeful to force the audience to infer what these characters are feeling and base it off their body language alone. It is also in a way, an attempt to conceal as much as I can about what the character is feeling, playing into the theme that eyes are the window to the soul, and we, as the audience, are not allowed into their private thoughts.

anddd done :D hope y'all enjoy this info-dumping soup. I'd love to try my hand at some action boards and see how my analytical brain puts drama beats there, since at this point applying emotional connections to compositions and camera angles is second nature. So that for action hrmmmmmm we'll see AFTER UNI THO (ANNETTE IT'S YOUR TURN)

I have one assignment left for this semester, wish my uni wouldn't adamantly put down 2d focused students (or wish they'd even teach us, though honestly teaching myself is very fun and rewarding) BUT I digress!

I had a lot of fun doing this! Ty for reading this far LOLOLOL

[cosyvelvetorchid]

My thoughts on 8.05 and prediction for 8.06 below the break 🩶

Genuinely one of my favourite episodes of the entire show!

My favourite episodes are the largely farcical ones and this one (Denny almost dying not withstanding) definitely fed into that.

So, here are my reasons/favourite moments

Seeing silly/ridiculous Buck again. We’ve not seen him overthinking something ridiculous like a curse for a while and though he’s grown and matured massively over the 8 seasons, seeing his almost child like wonder of the supernatural is one of my favourite character traits of his.

Seeing Buck and Tommy behave as a couple in a settled relationship (yes I know there’s a hurdle in the next episode but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it in 2 weeks). But specifically I loved seeing A) Tommy so effortlessly and happily taking care of Buck—bringing him an ice pack, getting him pain killers, plumping his pillows, getting up before him to make him coffee and breakfast. And B) more importantly (for me at least) seeing Buck happily accept the care. It’s a fantastic example of how far Buck has grown to where he isn’t instinctively resisting the care for fear of being seen as needy or a burden.

On that note Lou nailed the boil discovering scene. His body language throughout the whole scene had me laughing so hard.

Tommy’s sass. No explanation needed.

Tommy and Eddie teaming up. I love their friendship. And actually I think Eddie needed someone like Tommy in his life. Yes he has Buck and I adore their friendship, but remember Buck isn’t into sports or cars etc so Tommy being into those things and having served in the army gives Eddie someone who can relate to him with the things that Buck can’t.

For all the sassy comments Tommy made to Buck about Billy Boils curse, the entire time he still took care of Buck and was there for him in every way he needed. Even going as far as to put on a suit to attend a funeral his boyfriend wanted to do for a 120 year old corpse. He stood at the sidelines and listened fondly to everything Buck said.

And let’s not forget he stayed at the hospital to make sure Denny was okay.

The last frame of Tommy looking into the camera telling Billy Boils to knock off the curse.

As for 8.06..

Here’s the thing. If you’ve been watching the show long enough (and actually paid attention) you’ll notice that they don’t often go down the obvious route for drama that all the other similar shows do. (It was obvious Tommy would fly the plane, it was obvious Tommy would have issues with Gerrard being back or Gerrard would make a thing about Buck and Tommy, as examples) but none of things happened.

I’m not saying they don’t do obvious or predictable things but for the most part we’re often proved wrong in our guesses (which personally is one of the reasons I love the show).

With that in mind, we know that Buck is going to find out about something from Tommys past (as per an interview with Oliver)

Everyone is predicting it’ll be something to do with his own time at the 118 and Buck finding out about his behaviour. I think this is highly unlikely. Purely because those who know about Tommy 1.0–Bobby Chim and Hen—would have likely told Buck already (maybe even Tommy himself—we know he’s ashamed of it given his comment about Gerrard not making him a better person) and if for a second they thought Tommy was bad for Buck they love him enough to have said something to warn him off.

My personal guess (for what it’s worth) is that it’ll be something totally random. Such as him being married (totally over his ex but for some reason hasn’t got round to divorcing him yet). Or maybe he doesn’t want to ever get married or have kids. Or even maybe an amazing job offer is potentially on the cards the other side of the country.

Im not saying these ideas are super likely or unlikely—I’m just guessing random things to use as part of my point that I think it’ll be something not as obvious as Tommy’s 118 past.

Only shit thing is we now have to wait 2 whole weeks to find out!

[y2katsuki]

shy!konig x bold!reader

short drabble - 703 words (i will be making a masterlist as i update more)

that one tiktok sound heh :)

sorry for the delay, i was finishing my application for my master's program (pls...i hope i get in) and i got really sick, but i'm feeling better now.

you walk down the halls of the barracks, looking for one person. you had always had your eyes on the big fella when you got contracted to work for kortac. it was difficult to break his tough shell but you managed. you thought your feelings were one-sided until you noticed him staring at you more often. the one clue that gave it away was that he always managed to slip away from you, ignoring you and making silly excuses to leave.

konig on the other hand was avoiding you all day. it was the team's day off, which meant one thing. you were in search to find him. he didn't know whether you truly liked him or liked to tease him. he didn't mean to fall in love with you, but you were the first person to ever come up to him and talk to him. most people tend to stay away due to his quiet personality and big frame. as much as he would like to sit in the same room as you and stare at your beautiful face, he couldn't. you always sat next to him, teasing him and making conversation. his heart couldn't handle it. he thought he found the perfect place to avoid you, the messy hall, the one place you hated to go. but at last...he was wrong.

"so konig, what do you have planned on this lovely day?" you sat right across from him. as you looked at him with your beautiful eyes.

"uh...nothing much. and you?" he cleared his throat, trying to avoid from tripping on his words.

"well...i was hoping you would spend time with me." you gave him a pretty smile as you leaned in closer.

you watched as he picked up his water bottle, noticing how it shakes a tad bit. your eyes never leave his face, as he nervously looks anywhere but you.

"why are you avoiding my eyes, konig?" you leaned closer, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"i...um...i'm not?" he says it as a question before finally meeting your eyes as his heart beats fast in his chest.

"there's thoses pretty eyes." you teases. "so how about it? wanna spend your day off with a lonely gal." your lips curled up into a teasing smile.

"a-are you joking?" he asked. throughout his childhood, many people would like to invite konig to hang out only to ditch him. he would really hate if that was the case with you.

"oh come on, i'm not playing any games with you, am i?" you leaned closer, noticing how his eyes start to wander again, nervously.

"heh," he lets a nervous chuckle, "not any that i know of..." he rubs the back of his neck, nervous that you are looking right through him.

"you see so nervous...what's the matter?" you grab his hand that sat on the table. his eyes shoot down to see your hand grasping him and before he can think he lets out a nervous laugh. "what's so funny, konig?" you say with a teasing smile.

"no nothing." he can hear his blood pumping in his ear. he looks at you one more time before finally falling into your antics. "uh, sure. i would...e-enjoy to spend my day off w-with you." he avoids your gaze once more.

you leaned closer, your face mere inches away from his. loving this nervous demeanor of his. you had a big goofy grin on your face before whispering, "it's a date." you leaned back, standing up as you looked at his red face. "let's go." you held your hand out for him to grab.

he still can't believe someone like you could possibly like him, yet you finally crack his shell. he grabs your hand and lets you pull him away. everyone eyeing the big austrain man being dragged by your smaller frame like a love-sick puppy.

it’s been since about 3 months since that interaction. konig blushes every time you bring it up. you two were happily together. it took awhile for konig to finally accept that you really liked him back, but he was the happiest he’s been.

even if you still tease him on the regular, but he just allows you.

[wildlavendermoon]

Pleaseee do a part 2 on just a summer thing I love it🩷

Hi love thank you for the kind message! Here is part 2 I'm sorry it took me a bit longer to write it, I was writing other fics and I had to deal with personal issues for the past month but I'm back !🩷🌛🪻🩷

Just a summer thing pt2

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪲ɞ˚‧｡⋆

───────

pairing. Ethan Landry x fem!reader

warnings. Light smut,fingering

summary. After exchanging a kiss with Ethan you are left wondering about his feelings towards you, was it just a fling?

a/n. The characters are from the Scream universe but there's no Ghostface involved.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your heart was racing like it was a star about to explode every time you saw Ethan. It’s been two days since you kissed him, you were wondering if it was just in the heat of the moment because he hadn’t said anything about it since. You were starting to question his feelings, your head was full of thoughts and it was getting the better of you. Your mind had no room left for any other thinking, you were so distracted that you didn't see Mindy walking next to you until she spoke

“I'm getting back to the cabin I've finished my tasks”

You were a bit startled

“Oh I haven't finished cleaning the tables yet I'll join you in a bit”

“Okay don't take too long”

She winked at you and exited the room leaving you alone. You continue to clean the tables but feel someone watching you then you see the person who you were wandering about all day.

He was wearing the blue camp T-shirt and was looking at you with his dazzling smile

“Do you need any help over here?”

"I’m not saying no to a little help"

You throw a rag at him that he catches, he moves closer to you cleaning the table in front of you and the room is silent for a moment

You could feel his eyes on you burning your skin and you never felt so vulnerable in front of him, you were avoiding any eye contact too scared to catch a glimpse of him.

“I swear these kids will be the death of me”

You just nod and smile in response, as he looks at you for a few seconds he says

“Are you okay?”

As you finally look at him you decide to lie

“Yes I’m okay”

He has one eyebrow arching “I don't believe you” he gets even closer to you

“What is it?”

“Do you like me?” you finally say

He is a bit surprised but smiles shyly

“Yes of course I like you”

“Because ever since we kissed the other day you didn't say anything and I’m confused if this meant something to you "

“I’m sorry about not talking to you about it..the reason I kissed you is that I like you and I had a crush on you every since I’ve laid my eyes on you, and the truth is I don’t know how to act when I’m around you "

These words make your cheeks turn crimson and a silly smile spreads across your face.

"Do you mean it?”

He grins "What do you think?"

His lips crash into yours and you feel the butterflies again just like the other day, then everything makes sense like it was right in front of you this all time.

It’s more passionate than the last time and you can feel that Ethan is more confident in his moves.

Your hands are around his neck and his are gripping your waist, one of his hands moves up your back softly pulling you closer to him.

Then you stop the kiss and look up at him he has this confused look, you lightly touch his jaw and smile “Let’s go somewhere else”

His stupid grin is back and he doesn’t waste any more time to take your hand leading you to a small supply closet.

It’s not ideal but it’s far from any curious pair of eyes, your back is against the wall and he’s closing the door looking down at you and his tall frame makes you blush hard.

"I’ve been waiting for you to make a move you know?“

"No need to be waiting anymore"

All you need right now is his touch and to feel him on you and you're practically begging with your eyes.

Just in a few seconds, your top is on the ground leaving you in your bra, Ethan covers your clavicle with kisses.

Then he slowly moves to your neck leaving soft kisses cupping one of your breasts as your breath gets shakier.

He makes his way to your lips nibbling them and tasting your cherry lipgloss, the friction on your bra gets quicker and you start to stroke his back.

Still kissing him you start to lift his shirt he gets the hint to get it off revealing his leaned abs and muscles, he gets even closer to you putting his hands around your waist.

Now you’re both just in your underwear, your legs wrapped around him. His fingers touching your lips you slowly kiss them and suck them, his fingers are in your mouth and your eyes are locked with his. Then his fingers move swiftly to your panties getting inside you, he is touching you getting deeper as you whimper trying to be as quiet as possible in case anyone is nearby. It feels like a secret trying to get free and you would be lying to say that it didn't turn you on, as he keeps fingering you he kisses you hard catching all the sound trying to escape from your lips as this was just meant to be heard by him.

[bahrtofane]

helloo can we have dialogue 9, trope 20 with tchouameni pleasee🫂

- "Stay, please?" - two idiots pinning and not realizing the other is just as in love

word count - 700+

watch it - sleepy eepy silly lovers

I luv him sm yall 

You get a call at 3 in the morning. At first you think it's an alarm so you slap your phone a few times before fumbling around for your charger, sticking your face in your pillow and drifting away. 

Then you get another call, and this time you clock that it's not an alarm but your dearest friend who's decided blowing up your phone is much better than letting you get any rest. It's Friday and you'll give him a pass. (Aurélien gets any and every pass in your book but he doesn't need to know all that).

You answer, of course you do. Voice hoarse as you sit up, slouching against your pillow while you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Mind if you open the door.” he mumbles after a rushed greeting. 

You squint,”what?”

“Your door, can you come and open it.” he repeats again. Slower. 

“Where are you?” you yawn.

“Outside, I got you things from Germany and they're really perishable and supposed to be refrigerated and I won't be able to so I thought I'd stop by. Sorry it's so late.” he breathes into his phone.

“No it's okay,” you stumble out of your bed and feed for your slippers in the dark, padding around your apartment phone wedged between your shoulder and your ear. 

He stays on the line, even if he's a few feet away. Not hanging up til he’s greeted by a very puffy eyed you in your pjs still fighting sleep. 

He thinks you're beautiful like this. Warm and soft, exactly how you make him feel. In full honesty he could have kept the assortment of treats with him. His hotel probably has a mini fridge. But he wanted to see you. He knows both of you will get busy again. He'd rather not waste any chances. So here he is, standing in your door frame, sleek black carry-on suitcase in hand and a bag just for you in the other.

You use him inside, flicking on a light and taking his baggage. He tries to fight you but you only whine, wheeling it away from him and up against the wall.

“Tea?” you croak.

He giggles, “no it's okay,” he hands you the tote,” this is for you, i should get going.”

“No wait,” you rub your eyes, “it's late. Stay please?”

His resolve soon crumbles as you take him by the hand, leading him further into your home. To you its second nature. Not a second thought as you dig in your closet for a spare pair of slipper. 

“I have pjs for you somewhere, “ you mumble. 

“No no,” he waves his hands,”its okay i have my own.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, padding along to get your room in order.

When you come back you see him in his pjs trying to settled on your couch and you frown, “no no you're sleeping in a proper bed get up.”

“It's your house.”

“And?”

“No i'll take the couch you have one bed i can-”

You shut him up with a tug to his sleeve, dragging him to your room. You turn your lamp on and slide in, motioning for him to follow. Friends share beds right? You would have offered if it wasn't him, and he wouldn't have accepted if it wasn't you. 

Maybe it's due to it being so late, to the jet lag, to you just being woken up. Or maybe it's because he feels so safe with you, so at home. And you feel so comfortable, and it feels so right when he slides in next to you, curling his hand around his face and resting his head against your pillow.

You've dreamt about this a million times. But you're too drowsy to be able to truly take it in. 

It's okay, the way Aurélien stares at you wide eyed admiring you makes up for it. He feels too excited to sleep but forces his eyes shut, turning the other way, and taking a deep breath to calm down.

You don't know this now but come morning you'll be pressed up against each other legs tangled and far too embarrassed to bring anything up. You hope he comes by again, maybe at a more reasonable hour next time so you can properly remember it. 

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Sky May Fall

Author's notes: Alpharius in Living Water AU. Thank you to @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow Mara.

Past =-= Next

Warnings: Confrontations? Let me know if I need to add more.

Summary: For Orlys the Alpharius things are starting to go wrong.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

There is something slightly off about the way he looks, like someone has wrapped him in a fine mist or something. He does look handsome, hopeful and earnest at least. There is something slightly green to the blue of his eyes that is almost bothering her. 

But then again, from what she's heard from the friendly, allied mer astartes that they can have a more ‘blended’ appearance of their gene-seed isn't ‘pure’ whatever that means.

She won't ask right now, as that seems like a terribly invasive question to ask someone that you just met. So she carefully starts asking him the ice breaker and light getting to know how a person questions. 

He seems to perk up a little at that, somehow, for every one question she asks, and gets an answer from him. He asks her three more and seems to get her life's Story out of her in bits and pieces over the next few months as they gradually get to know one another. During this whole thing, some of the Elders of her tribe check Zarius out and assess him and his intentions.

For a while the elders seem content with his answers and presence near their colony, if carefully watched. He never seems to be around at the same time any of Lenora's boys are over visiting, be it her kids or Erriox. Which seems to just be a coincidence, especially since she doesn't always tell him if they are coming for a visit. 

She has seen how Ramiel and Cedric Interact, with each other and the world around him. So far Zarius acts similar to them, if a bit different and part of her wonders is if that slightly offkey behavior is simply him being much older. She has occasionally mentioned her Bonded Space Marine to the fledglings, who are of course curious about him, if a tad wary of meeting him for reasons that they keep to themselves.

It takes her a while to notice it, but sometimes she feels an odd… shift in his presence, in his magic and soul. She had talked to Elder Mara about it, vaguely worried, and she's told that they were monitoring that situation as well and if things seemed… worrisome to speak up about it. Which she agreed to do as she didn't want to do something that could potentially harm her colony on purpose. 

The vaguely unsettling feeling of wrongness faded after a while had she started to feel like it was just something that had been silly or just not what Actually happened. When that strange shift happened in his Soul again. 

She spoke to the elders about it, and a closer watch was issued to him for the strangeness he exhibits, despite acting almost exactly the same, but with slightly different personality quirks.

Could mer-astartes have multiple personality disorder? It was something that she’d ask fledgling Cedric or Ramiel next time they visited. She knows that one of them has training in medicine and the body, while the other was trained in mind healing.

She’s pulled from her thoughts by her Zarius who croons at her from the water showing off his powerful frame in the water and swimming around her. He’d caught a few impressively large fish that she was helping to prepare for their meal. It would be added to the rest of the food that the Colony was going to eat.

=-=

Orlys has been tending to Lana, who’s his squad’s shared Bonded, it’s rare and mostly a very low kind of Bond. But Bonding does and can happen for Alpha legion mer-astartes. It’s just a lot more difficult for them to Bond and it’s nowhere near as strong as the bonds the other Legions and Chapters get.

He had been doing his duty shift with protecting and watching over Lana and helping out her Colony of Gannet harpies for a few weeks when something seems to have upset them.

He idly sends a message to the rest of his squad, trying to see if he can gather more information on what it is. Such things are sent so that the whole squad knows so that there are no ‘gaps’ in the memories of ‘Zarius’ the Black Templar.

They had been doing a good job making sure not to accidentally meet the whole damned squad of Primaris Space Mer-Astartes who’d got at least one of them Bonded to a different Harpy.

One was a Blood Angel Librarian with Wings (not… great for keeping things secret). Two are Black Templars, one an Apothecary in Training the other a Chaplain in  Training, which would make pretending to be a Black Templar more… difficult as they could be observant due to their specialized training.

An Ultramarine Scout and a Raven Guard Scout, the latter possibly having some latent Psykery from the way the mages fussed over him and talked about ‘lesson plans’.

They are Alpha Legion, which means tricking the other legions is easy for them to do. But with at least two of them being Psykers, and the observant natures of the other three, it was easier to try to avoid them, without seeming like they are avoiding them for best practices at the moment.

He’s glad that, despite the Harpies having increased magical ability and sensitivity that they haven’t seen him, Zarius, Zariel, and Keed have all met her. The fifth member of their squad has yet to meet her.  He notices that there seems to be a bit of a Discussion happening between some of the Harpy Elders, who seem to have determined, frowns on their faces as they head over to him.

“Did you need something?” Orlys asks them with a nod.

“Who are you?” Mara asks him sharply and he blinks at her in confusion.

“I am-,” Orlys starts to lie to her.

“Please don’t lie it, it will only make things worse for you,” Mara says warningly. “We decided to allow it when there was only one or two of you, but now it seems to be that there are at least four different ‘Zarius’ the Black Templar.”

[yaut-jaknowit]

YESS I GET TO BOTHER YOU AGAIN:D

Imagine the reader teaching their yautja mates/friends teenager some cool human fighting move you see in movies n shit (also have an awesome day ilyyy)

How to Fight

Pairing: Chopper (Male Reader) x Reader

Word Count: 1171

Summary: With a little luck, you were able to entertain yourself while on the mothership. Access to the internet was the best far from earth. Every night, you took it upon yourself to watch movies. Sometimes rewatching old ones or finding new releases. Until, one night, Chopper's buddies caught sight of what you were watching… It went downhill from there.

Author Note: I love when you come bother me! It's the highlight of my day. I didn't know what to with this one so I started in a random place and ran with it. The ball... well it ended up somewhere else I guess.

Masterlist

Ao3

All it took was one glimpse at a movie you were watching. Worst of all, it was Kung Fu Panda. The whole group was completely intrigued. Within moments, they’re sitting down next to your small frame, elbows on their knees with their chins resting on their fists. All of their eyes were zoned in on the holo screen in front of you.

With some trial and error with the earth’s internet and the Yautja’s network, you were able to figure out how to broadcast movies. As a human on a mothership full of Yautjas, there was a limit of what you could do. Safely. That part was key when it came to staying alive here.

From the rumors that have trailed across the ship, the only reason you’re alive is the fact your mate’s species sees you as his pet. Degrading as it is, you do your best to see the positives in the situation. Your mate, nicknamed Chopper, has lots of friends – you guess that’s the best word for it. They love to come over constantly.

Some of them like to tease you, especially on your size. Due to the translator that sits perfectly behind your ear, just below the skin, you are able to understand them. It’s not perfect but gets the job done well enough. In the end though, you didn’t take it to hard, coming to terms that’s how they are. In a strange, nonhuman way, its their way of showing that accept you. A positive in a situation that didn’t start out all that great. But hey, that’s a story for another time.

Currently, you were happily squished between the hard form of Chopper’s legs. His heavy torso was draped over your own, part of his weight put onto you. An arm as contently wrapped around your abdomen, keeping you secure to him. Chopper’s tresses created a curtain on either side of your head, as if narrowing you down to focus on the T.V.

After a few scenes of Po training and the others showing their skills off, Courtin – a new given to him, stood up abruptly. All eyes were on him. You had to draw the curtain of tresses out of your way to see Courtin. A brow was raised by you.

His mandibles chittered with speech. The translator was quick to start up. “These moves, I must learn them! Could aid us when we hunt, brothers,” he rallied his fellow Yautjas to stand up with him. Even, your sweet, dear Chopper took stand with him. You snorted at the declaration. “Ooman, laughs at me. Why? Think we Yautja can not learn these moves from a flick.” It took you a moment to realize what he meant by that last word. Again, not perfect.

“Courtin, it’s not that.” Now, you decide to rise to your feet and crossed yours arms. Before realizing that was a bad idea. Right, different social cues and body language, for the most part. “This movie is aimed for children, unbloodeds. It is meant to be silly and fun,” you explained to him calmly. The worst thing to do to a Yautja in their presence was to offend their pride and skill.

“You are all talented, blooded and whatnot. But these moves aren’t real. It just for the movie to be filled with action and tension.” All of their eyes were set on you.

Courtin stepped forward, enough to feel crowded within the group of eight Yautjas. Despite the fact he and any of the others were young, he still towered over you. Stupidly enough, Courtin leaned down to be level with you, hands grasping his knees. “You say these moves are useless?” he asks for you clarify.

For some reason, you feel a hair on edge. Though, they would never hurt you, per their honor code, it’s hard to forget they are predators. “In all honesty, yes. They are.” His three mandibles tapped against one another. Courtin stood up fully once more.

“Hmphf.” That made him sound so human. Maybe him and the others were learning a few human things from yourself. One could only hope. “Then, must find other media to consume. Ooman, show more.” Always demanding. You believed that was almost all of their species type.

From one rabbit hole to the next and over countless days, everyone – including yourself – believed they had learned enough. From movies. All from movies. Nothing else. Well, your mate and his friends would have a batter advantage than due to the fact they are trained predators. Yet, here you were, in a private kehrite with everyone.

The heat and humidity was killing you without much movement. Yet, when Jqal-od called upon you to step into the ring – one that reminded you of wrestling, you accepted. Though, they were more focused on the fighting parts of the movie… you focused on a different part. Those who were smaller than their enemies. Cliché, yeah. Guess what though, it works.

Not against someone two feet taller and highly trained. In theory, it works.

Jqal-od placed a heavy paw on your shoulder. You returned the gesture. Together, the two of you shook the other. Then, you two stepped a decent distance away from one another. You and him had your gaze set firmly on the other.

Silence entered the ring as everyone quieted down on their own accord. A deep breath filled your lungs with air before slowly exhaling. Jqal-od’s tongue darted out with a flick before hiding away again.

The next moment, the lean, yet clearly trained Yautja pounced like a leopard. Before you had time to react, let alone think of using a move from the movie, he had you simply pinned. Your back to the mate as he straddled your lower torso. One hand held your two high above your head. Even kicking your knees into his back, trying to hit something of importance did nothing. The Yautja barely reacted to the move.

All you could was stare blankly up at him. The Yautja in question leaned down, tresses creating a curtain. His top mandibles twitched. He was smirking in his own way. “What happened, little ooman?” he teased and snickered down at you.

He finally released you from his hold and stood up. With a hand, he held it out to you. You took it. Jqal-od easily tugged you off of the ground and onto your feet. You brushed off the invisible dust on your clothing and walked away to Chopper. Someone else took your place and challenged the Yautja.

“Well, that didn’t go to plan,” you grumbled and rested heavily on one foot, hips jutting at an angle now. Chopper snickered and placed a hand on top of your head. You turned to look up at him from underneath your brows. “What you laughing about?”

The Yautja just shook his head and patted yours with his hand. The two of you watched the scene in front of you unfold, as hilarious as it was. No one knew what they were doing.