#and now i’m stuck with the same question i was asking almost exactly a year ago

[shoveitevil]

gang im still as sad as i was b4 my birthday but in a new hopeful way with way more questions so that’s interesting

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 3671 words & 18+

here it is! part two of this blurb. all the hugs and kisses to @moonpascal for reading and giving me tips/ideas! also, here's the series masterlist for these two 💌 happy reading, angels! 💌

While James is gone, your thoughts spiral out of control. You consider slipping out of his bed and retreating to the living room, where the space feels less charged. A nagging voice in your mind insists that James would be more at ease if you weren’t in his bed. You’ve been in his bed before, shared countless late-night conversations and quiet moments, but this time it feels wildly different. 

The air was thick with tension, something you’d felt even after James left the room, and it made you question whether you should create some distance before he returned. The last thing you wanted was to put him in an uncomfortable position. Lying in his bed while his son called you "mum" surely must have felt that way to him. 

You’ve just sat up in bed, ready to slip out from under the covers, when James quietly reenters the room, closing the door with a soft click. He turns and catches sight of you sitting up, your uncertainty evident in the way you watch him. One brow arches in silent inquiry, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Uh,” you murmur, easing yourself back into the sheets, your hands nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. “No.” 

James lets out a satisfied hum, his voice low and warm, “Good.”

You chew on your lip, watching as he runs a hand through his hair, tousling the curls. You fight back a smile, thinking how just a few minutes ago, Henry’s hair looked exactly the same.

“Listen,” he starts. “I want to thank you for going along with Henry calling you mum. I know it might have been a bit of a shock.” His voice is soft as he acknowledges the almost-four-year-old sleeping down the hallway. You feel a wave of emotion at the mention of the little boy.

“A bit.” You say softly.

“I’m sorry,” he admits, his voice tinged with guilt as he runs a hand through his hair again—a gesture that betrays his nerves. “I’ll talk to him in the morning and explain that he can’t call you that.”

A pause lingers between you. Neither of you speaks, the quiet hum of the TV the only thing breaking the stillness.

“Or you don’t have to.” You say gently, pushing the covers aside as you shift to the edge of the bed in front of him. He watches you intently, his eyes darting down to trace over your bare legs. You’re wearing the shorts that drive him crazy—especially now, with you in his bed.

“What?” He asks, his tone dripping with surprise.

“It’s okay if he wants to call me ‘mum'. If you're okay with it,” you say shyly, and he can tell from the way you bite down on your lower lip and stare up at him that you’re nervous. “I consider him mine.” You continue, your voice coming out in a near whisper.

That’s all it takes.

James pushes himself forward with a determined intensity, his hand cupping your cheek as he tilts your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. His thumb gently caresses your bottom lip, sending a shiver through you as your lashes flutter with anticipation. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and captures your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. You respond with a shuddering sigh.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “He is yours.”

You can hardly respond. The words are stuck in your throat, trapped by the rising emotions. You couldn’t have heard him right. “Jamie, I—”

“You’ve raised him with me.” He tells you, kneeling between your legs, his warm palms gently pushing your thighs apart so he can press close to you.

A slow, gentle kiss is pressed to your cheek, “Been such a good mum, darling.” He whispers, his voice is rough against your ear.

James grins at the sound of the soft whimper that escapes your lips. Eyes wide and lips parted, you gaze up at him, caught between surprise and desire.

He’s beginning to think you like being praised.

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” He tests as his lips graze the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You instinctively reach out, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as a surge of heat shoots through you, straight to between your legs.

He grins, his theory proven correct. Your hips roll, desperate for friction, as your chest pushes further into his.

“Taking care of my son,” Your eyes flutter closed, letting him run his palm down your neck, tilting your head to the side. Another kiss is placed below your ear, pulling a whimper from your lips. “Our son”

The hand that isn’t cradling your neck glides up your thigh, fingers grazing your skin before gripping your hip firmly, his touch possessive. He squeezes the flesh, sending a wave of heat through you. The sigh you let out is soft, almost a whimper, betraying how desperately you’re losing control under his touch.

“Jamie.” A whimper escapes you as desire coils tightly in your stomach, almost unbearable. You’ve never ached for someone’s touch as much as you do now, every nerve ending alive with need.

“It’s your turn to be taken care of, love.” He mumbles, trailing soft kisses down your neck. Your face tightens, struggling to contain the lump that forms in your throat from his words. 

He pulls back from you, sitting back on his heels as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Your mouth goes dry as your gaze locks onto his fingers, watching them deftly work each button open, one by one. He’s moving slowly, almost deliberately, focusing on the task as if he’s oblivious to how your eyes are glued to him. 

But you know better than that.

The fabric parts gradually, revealing more of his chest with each undone button, and the air between you seems to thicken with anticipation. 

Your focus is dialed into the movement of his hands and the soft rustle of his shirt as he moves. Your thighs press together, the anticipation building unbearably. You reach for the band of his dress pants, fingers curling around the fabric, trying to convey your urgent need. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and he gives you a smile that’s as devastating as it is knowing.

“Slide up on the bed, darling.” He tells you as he pops open the last button and slides his shirt off, revealing his tanned and toned torso.

You obey without hesitation, your body responding instinctively to his command.

He casually tosses his shirt onto the top of the dresser, the fabric landing in a careless heap. Then he climbs onto the bed, moving with deliberate ease until he’s hovering over you, his presence overwhelming and inescapable.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, his voice rough with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. “So beautiful that sometimes I can’t even think straight when I’m around you.”

“Stop it.” You sigh, though there’s no real sharpness in your tone. You’re simply trying to mask how flustered he’s making you.

His fingers slip beneath the strap of your tank top, tugging it off your shoulder, “I’m serious, baby. Do you know how many years I’ve spent dreaming of worshiping your body?”

Baby. That's new.

“Fuck, I need you to touch me.” You sigh, your voice coated in desperation. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice dripping with a cocky undertone. You hate how much it stirs you up, the confidence in his tone intensifying your reaction.

You nod frantically, “Yeah.”

Your eyes flutter closed as James slides the other strap of your top off your shoulder. There’s a brief, charged pause before you feel his lips grazing your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. He murmurs tender compliments, his words melting into the softness of your skin.

The hem slips down, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and you can feel your nipples harden. James curses before leaning down, eager to press a soft kiss against your right nipple. You draw in a sharp breath, so sudden that James glances up at you in surprise. But you’re too absorbed in the sensation, head thrown back, to notice his reaction.

He takes his time, sucking on your nipples until you’re whining before trailing kisses lower and lower down your body. Stopping at the band of your sleep shorts, he glances up at you for permission. You meet his gaze and give him a small nod, and then he’s tugging down the flimsy fabric along with your panties and tossing them aside.

The light from his lamp is reflecting off your slick, and he’s never wanted anything more. All those years he spent dreaming of this moment, imagining what it would be like to have you this close. Now that it’s finally happening, he can’t quite grasp that it’s real—that you’re here, within reach, and this isn’t just another fleeting fantasy.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you,” James groans, staring down at your soaked pussy. “Please let me, baby.”

You don’t say anything but instead spread your thighs, your hands gripping underneath the backs of your knees. He grins, his hands sliding up the backs of your thighs to hold you open for him. The tip of his nose brushes against your thighs as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. The shaky exhale that slips from your lips at his touch has him growing uncomfortably hard. 

When he nips at your inner thigh, a playful squeal escapes your lips, and you tug at his curls with a mischievous grin. Gently, you guide his head so he’s lined up with your pussy, your touch both commanding and affectionate.

He doesn’t waste any time, his tongue sliding right through your slick as he moans into you.

You let out a moan so loud that he reaches up and clamps his hand over your mouth. The last thing he needs is Henry waking up and cockblocking him.

He keeps his hand over your mouth, feeling the vibrations of your sighs and whimpers against his palm. If it weren’t for his son sleeping just down the hall, he’d be urging you to let go and be as loud as you wish. Begging you to let him hear just how good he was making you feel.

Your thighs jerk, and James grips you harder, pushing you back down into the sheets. Wetness is beginning to drip down onto the sheets, and the way James sloppily licks and sucks at your cunt doesn’t help the mess. He couldn't care less about the mess gathering on his sheets. The only thing on his mind is making you feel so good that you can’t possibly think straight.

At the feeling of the tips of his fingers tracing along your entrance, you moan, desperately nodding your head to tell him to keep going. He listens, slipping a finger slowly into you and curling upwards. He watches transfixed as you arch your back, and he can’t decide which sight he likes more. The sight of his finger slipping into you so easily or the complete look of desperation on your face.

“God, you look so fucking pretty like this.” James hums, pressing a kiss onto your clit before glancing back up at you. Against his better judgment, he pulls his hand away from your mouth, desperate to hear the pretty noises you’re making.

He’s not at all disappointed; the way you moan his name makes him dizzy.

“Got the prettiest pussy too.” He hums, pulling his fingers away to circle your clit. When he pinches your clit you shriek, jolting at the sensation that shoots through you. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the building hot pressure settling into your body.

James shifts, moving further up your body so that he can settle next to you. His fingers are still rubbing tight circles against your clit, and you don’t get a chance to ask what he’s doing before he’s leaning down and sucking your nipple into his mouth.

The sensation sends you over the edge, vision blurring into white as you’re consumed by the intense, toe-curling orgasm. Your gasp is startingly loud, so James leans down and kisses you hard, muffling your cries as you grip his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other hand. He keeps the same pace, swirling his fingers over your pussy in the most delicious way as he works you through your orgasm. He slows his movements once he notices your breathing has evened out and your eyes have fluttered open.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your chest heaving as you look up at James with wide, glassy eyes. He smiles down at you, pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips. At that moment, you’re certain he’s ruined you for any other man—though, truth be told, he did that years ago.

“You’ve got the prettiest moans I’ve ever heard.” He speaks with such sincerity that you’re certain your gaze is filled with the most lovesick adoration.

“James.” You say softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach up to gently brush the curls away from his face. Your fingertips graze his skin, lingering for a moment on his cheek as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that matches your own.

You know he’s deeply in love with you, just as you are with him.

“What, baby?”

“I want to feel you inside of me.” Your fingers reach down to grasp the waistband of his dress pants. James looks momentarily startled when he glances down and realizes he’s still wearing them. With a flurry of hurried movements, he fumbles to unbutton and shove them off, and you can’t help but giggle at the endearing clumsiness of his efforts.

You barely have time to admire how beautiful he looks before he’s positioning himself over you, his body pressing close. He cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I need to grab a cond—” James begins as he glances over at his nightstand, but you cut him off with a gentle smile, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

"But there's a chance—" He stops himself, the words catching in his throat as he swallows hard, the mere thought too overwhelming to fully process. He can't let his mind linger on the image of you pregnant with his child; he just can't.

"I know," you reply, your voice steady as you give him an encouraging nod, trying to offer reassurance.

James looks so startled that you immediately worry you’ve said the wrong thing. “Please, baby,” he urges, his voice tinged with desperation, “tell me you’re being serious.”

You giggle, “I am.”

“Fuck.” He lets out a low groan, reaching down to grip his cock, dragging the tip through your folds. The sharp gasp you release makes James glance up at you. 

He’s never witnessed anything so captivating. Your eyes are closed, head tilted to the side, with your swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that drives him wild.

He drags himself further down until he’s lined up with your entrance, and you let out a shaky exhale. As he pushes past your tight walls, he grits his teeth, resisting the urge to shove his hips forward and fill you in one go. But instead, he fixates on your face—the way your brows furrow in pleasure and your lips part, adjusting to the feel of his cock easing in.

“You feel so much better than I imagined, shit.” He gasps, watching the way his cock pushes past your snug entrance and sinks into you slowly. You suck him in so easily, and he swallows hard, silently begging himself to hold it together.

“Jamie, oh my god.” You moan, blindly reaching out a hand to grip his shoulder, the other gripping the sheets.

“I know, baby,” He grunts. “Almost there.” He stills for a second, needing a second to breathe. It’s been ages since he last had sex, and it doesn’t help that it’s you he’s slipping his cock into.

“Keep going, please.” It must be the tone of your voice, that soft, irresistible lilt, that drives him to surge forward as if he can't hold back any longer. The forceful thrust tears a moan from your throat, your hand instinctively flying up to clutch his as it grips your hip with a possessive intensity. At the touch of your fingers, he instinctively twists his hand to intertwine them with yours. With a steady push, he leans over you, pressing your joined hands into the sheets.

Your eyes flutter open, slowly tracing over him, taking in every detail, before finally locking onto his gaze. He’s just so breathtakingly beautiful. His dark curls fall messily over his forehead, his lips are pink and inviting, and a deep blush colors his cheeks. You’ve never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and raw, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude that you get to witness him like this, even if it’s just this once.

A gentle kiss lands on your lips, the softness of his touch lingering for a moment. You let out a quiet sigh, your breath blending with his in a simple, shared connection. His lips remain lightly pressed against yours as he drags his cock through your pussy. Your back arches instinctively, and a soft, pleading whine escapes into his mouth.

He quickens the pace, yet it remains slow and tender, leaving you breathless and dazed. As your head tilts to the side, he seizes the moment to press gentle kisses along your shoulder, his touch soothing compared to the burn of pleasure between your thighs.

“God, I love your moans.” He mumbles, rolling his hips into yours. Being this close allows him to hear every sound you make—the soft catch of your breath, the subtle shifts in your sighs, and the faint murmurs of pleasure. Each noise is crisp and intimate, a testament to the closeness you share.

“Love your pretty lips.” He murmurs softly, his voice low and intimate, as he leans in to press his lips against yours. The kiss is gentle but insistent, and you can barely manage to reciprocate, your movements sluggish and overwhelmed. Yet he doesn't seem to mind; his focus is entirely on making you feel good.

“Love how well you take me.” He murmurs praise with a tender, reverent tone, each word wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The effect is immediate; you release a choked sob as his hand slides from your neck down your body. He gently slides his hand under your thigh, lifting it and securing it over his hip with a possessive yet gentle grip. The shift in position pulls you even closer and has him hitting that delicious spot that makes your mind go blissfully blank.

You’re utterly undone, and it’s all too clear in your voice. Each desperate plea of his name tumbles from your lips, mingled with breathless, disjointed words about how incredible everything feels. The raw vulnerability in your tone, the way you falter and stutter with pleasure, tells him just how close you are

“James, I—” you cry out, your voice breaking as you squeeze his hand with a desperate intensity. Your other hand weaves through his tousled curls, tugging him closer. You pull his lips to yours with an urgent, almost pleading motion, your heart racing as the warmth of his lips meet yours. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck.”

He keeps the rhythm steady, his lips lingering on your cheeks with soft, reverent kisses before moving slowly down your neck. Each kiss is deliberate and tender, a gentle exploration that sends a cascade of shivers across your skin. The warmth of his breath mingles with the sensation of his lips, heightening the intimacy of the moment and deepening the connection between you.

“Fuck, I love you.” He grits out a few strained words, his voice rough and laden with raw emotion. That simple utterance is enough to shatter your composure. In an instant, you’re undone, your body trembling and mind swirling as you surrender entirely to the intensity of the moment.

The intense feeling of you squeezing him tightly, overwhelms his senses, causing his thoughts to dissolve into a haze of pleasure. His body reacts instinctively, and without much warning, he spills into you as he helps you ride out your high. He curses under his breath, his head sinking to your shoulder, the weight of his exhaustion and satisfaction pressing against you.

It takes a moment for both of you to catch your breath, chests heaving and hearts pounding in the aftermath. As you gradually come back to yourselves, he gently pulls away from your shoulder, meeting your glassy-eyed gaze with his own. You stare at him, wide-eyed, your hair a tangled mess and mascara smudged. Despite the disheveled appearance, he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Did I—” you trail off, your voice faltering as you shift your hand from his tangled curls to cradle his cheek gently. Your thumb brushes lightly against his skin, your gaze searching his face. “Did you just say you loved me?” The words come out in a soft, trembling whisper, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of hope and disbelief.

“Yes.” James admits; there’s a shake to his voice as he bites his lip nervously. The admission wasn’t meant to slip out. Instead of apologizing, he shifts his focus to the tears welling up in your eyes. Before he can process it, you lean in and kiss him fiercely, the intensity of emotions seeping through.

“Like you’re in love with me?” You ask, your voice trembling with disbelief. James offers a nervous, yet hopeful smile.

“Uh huh.” He confirms softly, his eyes reflecting a vulnerable sincerity.

“I love you. So fucking much, James Potter.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[seeingivy]

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks. 

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities. 

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits. 

“Eren.” 

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too. 

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side. 

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll. 

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth. 

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself. 

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up. 

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion. 

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.” 

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words. 

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood. 

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door. 

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep. 

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?” 

“Eren. Oh my god.” 

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms. 

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove. 

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana. 

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders. 

“What is it? Who died?” 

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic. 

His first thought is you. 

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-” 

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

Because it’s Marco. 

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen. 

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it. 

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together. 

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight. 

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one. 

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this. 

Eren’s quick to respond to that one. 

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks. 

eren: phone is on. 

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking. 

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone. 

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-” 

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.” 

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers. 

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits. 

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-” 

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard. 

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-” 

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. 

“How long?” 

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil. 

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers. 

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing. 

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it. 

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death. 

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds. 

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren. 

In full flesh, that Marco is gone. 

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight. 

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t. 

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here. 

But he can’t. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air. 

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper. 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods. 

That he’s here and he’s got you. 

“Anything. What is it?” 

“Is he dead?” 

Maybe not anything. 

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him. 

“Y/N.” 

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller. 

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.” 

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind. 

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard. 

“Yes. Marco’s dead.” 

And you don’t even know the half of it. 

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest. 

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-” 

“Y/N, come ins-” 

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots. 

“Wait, is that-” 

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks. 

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-” 

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help. 

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks. 

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.” 

“It’s just grass. What’s-” 

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth. 

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch. 

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says. 

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back. 

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain. 

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair. 

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.  

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off. 

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table. 

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you. 

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years. 

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands. 

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond. 

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them. 

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead. 

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away. 

“Welcome back, kid.” 

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself. 

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back. 

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you. 

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind. 

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had. 

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you. 

All you know how to do is ruin people. 

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks. 

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?” 

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.” 

“We?” you ask. 

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.” 

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation. 

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks. 

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous. 

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats. 

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group. 

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress. 

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them. 

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress. 

“Hi guys.” 

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you. 

Mikasa and Jean. 

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest. 

“Hi princess. Missed you.” 

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.” 

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid. 

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees. 

“I asked Historia.” you respond. 

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir. 

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds. 

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations. 

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too. 

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks. 

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile. 

“Really funny story. Sooooo….” 

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans. 

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling. 

“Was it cool?” you ask. 

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds. 

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him. 

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states. 

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds. 

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.” 

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds. 

“Connie!” 

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile. 

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.” 

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject. 

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away. 

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this. 

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look. 

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging. 

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins. 

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect. 

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything. 

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur. 

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours. 

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room. 

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco. 

“How are you?” Mikasa asks. 

“Okay, Mika. How are you?” 

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first. 

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to  you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here. 

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.” 

She smiles, leaning her head against yours. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.” 

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond. 

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you. 

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.” 

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep. 

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-” 

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies. 

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-” 

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.” 

You swallow hard. 

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-” 

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-” 

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard. 

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you. 

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch. 

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers. 

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door. 

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off. 

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room. 

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.” 

“I found yours! But where is mine?” 

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist. 

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond. 

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it. 

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.” 

“Quit moving your hands.” 

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand. 

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar. 

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?” 

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there. 

“And that it’s cute that you did that.” 

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door. 

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand. 

“You left it in the bathroom.” 

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are. 

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks. 

“No.” you shrug. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander. 

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show. 

“Eren?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” 

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget. 

“Of course. On set, in the-” 

“No, no. I mean, for real.” 

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.” 

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

“Do you think he’s haunting us?” 

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now. 

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated. 

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!” 

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.” 

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.” 

“Eren. It’s more compl-” 

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.” 

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says. 

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds. 

You smile, giving him a nod. 

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?” 

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.” 

“That’s a lie.” you state. 

“No one believed him.” Eren responds. 

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other. 

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands. 

You still love him. 

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn. 

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper. 

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers. 

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk. 

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-” 

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his. 

“He knows, Y/N.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.” 

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head. 

“I have something for you.” he murmurs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.” 

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks. 

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.” 

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh. 

“Never could hold his drink, could he?” 

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.” 

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind. 

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks. 

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-” 

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you. 

“Your new name is Margaret.” 

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.” 

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.” 

“Bruce Wayne!” 

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.” 

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.” 

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks. 

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on. 

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night. 

--

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other. 

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him. 

“Good morning, Con.’” 

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.” 

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice. 

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat. 

“Sleep well?” he asks. 

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.” 

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.” 

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.” 

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile. 

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet. 

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you. 

“I want to apologize.” Connie says. 

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it. 

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-” 

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh. 

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead. 

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you. 

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond. 

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now. 

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-” 

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?” 

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-” 

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?” 

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him. 

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say. 

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom. 

“Sorry?” 

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?” 

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response. 

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur. 

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?” 

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.” 

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.” 

“Connie, that’s enough-” 

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks. 

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-” 

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.” 

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers. 

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs. 

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs. 

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder. 

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all. 

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams. 

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan. 

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren. 

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.” 

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand. 

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper. 

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head. 

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows. 

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean. 

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there. 

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on. 

“Good morning kiddos!” 

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing. 

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.” 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek. 

“Bruce.” 

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds. 

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. . 

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ” 

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius. 

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard. 

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring. 

And wander in silence for the rest of the day. 

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed. 

--

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black. 

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set. 

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room. 

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands. 

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him. 

“Oh. Hey, you look-” 

“Are you serious?” 

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things. 

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?” 

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you. 

“Wait-” 

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

“How could you do this? To him? To me?” 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out. 

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder. 

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Eren?” 

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction. 

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg  Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-” 

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at. 

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills. 

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-” 

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-” 

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.” 

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.  

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.” 

You nod. 

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.” 

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues. 

You’re here and you’ve got him. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.” 

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk. 

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper. 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper, 

“No. No, no. Stop.” 

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side. 

“Why are you-” 

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering. 

“Why not?” you ask, frowning. 

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.” 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur. 

“Y/N. We can’t-” 

“Who?” 

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.” 

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake. 

“Why were you in here?” you ask. 

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.” 

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask. 

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last. 

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only. 

--

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say. 

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together. 

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face. 

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles. 

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop. 

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks. 

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them. 

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead. 

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?” 

“With Mikasa.” he responds. 

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence. 

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera. 

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him. 

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds. 

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera. 

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds. 

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile. 

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?” 

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says. 

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.” 

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off. 

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories. 

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo. 

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans. 

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.” 

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug. 

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco. 

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.” 

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen. 

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?” 

“Damn right you will.” you respond. 

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile. 

“Good.”

--

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @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-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

[rachetmath]

Jaune: *pacing back and forth*

Writer: *scared* Um.

Jaune: Let me ask you something. Do you get off on me suffering?

Writer: What? No. No. No, we don’t.

Jaune: Really? S-so—so w-w-why have me kill Penny? Like I really could have saved her. I really could have healed her. Like what are we doing? But no, I listened to a girl who had a human body for the first time and was having a dying experience which she probably wasn’t thinking straight.

Writer: …. ….

Jaune: Then I don’t even mention her and Ruby was going through it, acting like she killed her.

Writer: I mean she technically did kill her.

Jaune: Why didn’t you let Ruby do it then? Why did I have to go through all that crap?

Writer: Jaune your a knight.

Jaune: I also had a rabbit hoody. Plus didn’t Ruby pick a knight piece? She is TECHNICALLY a knight. You all could have had me as the late bunny.

Writer: How does that fit into your character?

Jaune: Hm. Beacon wasn’t I late to save Pyrrha? Mistral, wasn’t I think irrationally to where Weiss almost died. Argus, I was close to getting my friends killed because I was lack of leadership skills.

Writer: …. ….

Jaune: The heir always arrives late because he neglects his responsibility and doesn’t do his job. Haven’t I been neglecting some of my duties to almost where no one has complete faith in me?

Writer: …. …

Jaune: Plus, again, Ruby has silver eyes. She could have been training with those and her scythe skills. You can also determine what age you want her to be.

Writer: Okay Jaune chill. We just thought it was best for your character.

Jaune: So having me go back in time. I was stuck in the Ever After for years and couldn’t find a home until RWBY was there. Letting me get poisoned by Alyx. And getting no kind of skill set was good. Isn’t my character all about growth and change? So why does it feel like I haven’t changed? I’m back to square one again.

Writer: Yeah…

Jaune: y'all come on. First, you had Tyrian having some interest in me which might as well be a prison joke right now. Then you had Vine say something about extending my aura which is irrelevant considering y'all wanted Ren to have attention. Y'all had Harriet grieving over Clover which I could have been related to her on, you know, because I lost Pyrrha. And I let Emerald join my team because Oscar says so. There was a lot of shit I could have done. But no, killing Penny was important.

Writer: …

Jaune: Ya’ll had Ruby and Salem in the same kingdom, Salem drops the Summer bomb, and instead of having Ruby figure that shit out by seeing her you had her sidelined.

Writer: She was protecting Nora and Penny.

Jaune: She could have left and gone help in the war. Silver-eyed warrior timing and left Weiss in charge. Don't give me that shit.

Writer: Okay but -

Jaune: Back to what's important, why was James her highest priority over Salem? I mean at least he was protecting his citizens. Salem was trying to kill everybody. How was she not Ruby's target? Why didn't you leave James to me? That would have hyped up Penny’s death way better if you wanted me to kill her!

Writer: You wouldn't stand a chance against James?

Jaune: I almost outsmarted the Atlas military with my plan.

Writer: James is stronger and smarter than you. You are no fighter

Jaune: Exactly fighting for me is the last resort. I am a strategist! Not an all-out fighter! My job is to adapt to situations and operate within the chaos!

Writer: … I mean-

Jaune: I also have emotional intelligence. And I’m not stupid. Are you telling me I wouldn't see through or question some of James’s actions if given a chance?

Writer: Well Ruby was trapped in an electric barrier.

Jaune: Gravity shield. So Nora didn't need to be absent in the fight.

Writer: Shit.

Jaune: Let's go to the Ever After.

Writer: Come on man. If it wasn't for you team RWBY wouldn't have made it out. Also, you were going through the worst.

Jaune: F team Rwby.

Writer: What could you have done better than Ruby?

Jaune: The same shit but better. I would have traded my armor for Yang’s arm. My sword for an audience with the Red King. Pyrrha scarf for the antidote. All are a part of my identity. Not to mention while having my friend's gun on me which she rejected after keeping it safe and not destroying it.

Writer: …

Jaune: Alyx’s dagger, I could have used it by probably seeing her memories and figuring out what happened to her and how to get home. And, mainly, as a means of self-defense.

Writer: But Yang, Blake, and Weiss-

Jaune: Speaking of them why did they prioritize me over Ruby? And why did Ruby need help from a god when her issues were minor compared to mine? I mean even if she spent years alone, talking with her team would have been enough for her. And probably for the best considering Ruby is her team's sister, friend, and leader.

Writer: … …

Jaune: Like seriously, I was messed up mentally. Penny whose death I might as well be keeping a secret, from everybody. I mean if you killed one of your allies to save the world, wouldn’t you feel morally messed up? Meanwhile, my team was nowhere on site. I don't know Weiss, Blake, and Yang like that, so opening up to either of them would have been a challenge. Especially Ruby. Not to forget but my friends were in a whole different kingdom by themselves and I don't know what happened to them. They could've been dead for all I knew. So my worries would have been expeditiously high!

Writer: Oh God.

Jaune: And since we are on Penny, what happened to her body?!

Writer: … … We don't need to discuss that.

Jaune: Funny, because of the way the Jabberwocky was looking at Ruby I can make a guess what happened to her.

Writer: Please don't.

Jaune: Then we have the Cat, my enemy and opposite to my personality., He manipulates my friends and controls them like puppets. Neo would have had a field day with me too. After all, Pyrrha died because I couldn't stop her. Penny died because I had zero options to save her. Ozpin died because I failed to do my job. Ironwood died because of me and Ruby. And Harriet told me about Clover so I know he’s dead.

Writer: …

Jaune: And after all that bullshit you just gave us nothing. No new looks. Now new weapons I could have used. We might as well have been through a filler arc. Oh, and you know what, you could have finally given me a backstory. Something that finally ties my character together.

Writer: *tears falling* Jaune, please.

Jaune: *weapon drawn* You f*** with me for the last time. Now. DIE!

Chopper, Steven, and Orihime: No!

Orihime: Shoten kessun I reject.

Writer: *protected*

Chopper: *Goes Arm point and restrains Jaune*

Steven: *Traps them both in a bubble*

Windy: Jaune please calm down.

Jaune: Nah I'm killing them. They got me f*** up.

Steven: We’re really going to need therapy for you buddy.

Jaune: I don't need therapy, I want them dead.

Sakura: Chopper.

Chopper: Come, buddy. They are not worth it.

Jaune: Let me at least punch them.*screams in rage*

Sakura: *stares at the new staff*

Viz media writer: …

Sakura: Look just go easy on him. Please? Just let him be useful in other areas. Don't give him more trauma.

Viz media writer: You must know how he feels.

Sakura: Yes. Yes, I do.

Steven: And so do I.

[weirdthinkingdragon]

A Permanent Cuddle Buddy

Yandere x touch starved chubby reader

prob rather self-indulgent but IDC

warnings: slight crying, some self deprecation, drugging, manipulation?, kidnapping

Something I’m thinking about is a cuddle buddy that’s rather rich from creating a company but still likes to keep it strongly on the downlow. No, he doesn’t have absurdly high prices for the service, they’re the exact same as any others. No, he doesn’t get stuck up with the poorer people. He knows what the empty loneliness is like. Sure, he could pay for the service, but that might be more open to giving away his status. Plus, he actually really likes the physical contact.

Off to you, someone who just gets by and has never been given next to any physical contact from non-family or a little contact with friends. Relationships and dating just never got anywhere so you just gave up and accepted you’ll probably just have the lonely life. 

Your friends decided to “prank”? you by buying a cuddle buddy for you for a few hours. 

Here he ends up at your place because your friends have a spare key you gave to one, and waited inside for him. 

You arrive back to your home not much later after they’ve been informing him of what they’ve one. 

He’ll admit it’s one of the weirder requests he’s gotten, but hey, it beats the last one where they wanted something that required a different service. And that was the one supposed to be later today so this would be his last for the day. 

As soon as you get back to your home, your friends leave you with said stranger after informing they bought him for you. 

It was extremely awkward at first, but he manages to get things rolling from doing this for months. At least, until touch was involved. You felt so disgusted in yourself compared to him. 

“you... uh, you don’t have to do this, you know?” 

Him hearing you say that makes him raise a brow in questioning. He doesn’t say anything though, giving you the ability to continue your reasoning. 

You glare at your stomach. “I’m obviously not thin, so it’s probably really uncomfortable. And since I didn’t pay for it, you could just say we did and leave, or hang out or whatever you want.” 

He’ll be honest, just looking at you is making it really hard not to just yank you down to lay on top of him. He wants so badly to deny everything you’re thinking vocally, but he knows that doesn’t always work right. 

He stands up and extends a hand to you, who’s still sitting on the couch. “You’re saying as if you’re the only one with your type of body. Honestly, I prefer it. And I’m more than willing if you’re okay with giving the chance to try. But the bed is a better place for a first time.” 

Your stomach tightens greatly with anticipation when grabbing his hand. 

Upon entering your room, the nerves come back again. “So... how exactly should-”

“You can lay on my chest. Don’t worry about crushing me, you won’t. Again, you’re not the first with your body type.” 

You still rathe cautiously do, until he yanks you down full force onto him. Just the mere full contact makes a few tears slip as you both get more situated. 

fuck he loves how you feel and your smell. the deadly mix of both is more intoxicating than any other he’s had. He knows already that it’s going to have to become a normal thing. He can’t let this be a one time thing only, free of charge too.

And somehow he does manage to soothe you into the idea. 

It becomes from a monthly to weekly, to almost daily. From either your house or going to his, it’s never long before you and him cuddle again. 

You eventually decide to stop though because your friends are right. recently you spend more time cuddling with him that hanging out with them. 

He nuzzles his face deeply into the side of your neck. You tried to tell him at his house. He asked you to at least have a goodbye meal with him to celebrate it going on for about a year already. 

That leads to now, your body being drugged and barely responsive to moving while he sits behind you, caging you in on his bed. 

“I don’t think so. You’re never leaving me now. I refuse to be without your touch ever again. 

----------------------------------------------

maybe I’ll add or do more to the idea later. I really like the idea. A human cuddle buddy sounds so damn good too lol. 

[missmarveledsblog]

Not just a flower child huh ? ( Logan Howlett x reader ) part 6

summary : After the discovery her parents are alive and constantly trying to get her brother bring her to them logan figure it time she got out of the mansion to explore more than the ground of the school while he thinks of feelings that been growing like the flowers she grew

warnings : none weirdly enough , logans a big softly in this and scotts bike is " borrowed " but i think the series needed a fluffy part for once. grammatical errors also not proofread .

previous part

Her parent alive and kicking  to make it worst they were closer than she originally thought which was dead . Her brother  always spoke of them in a past tense and well in away they were dead to him  and to an extent to her as well but she had question , she yearned  for answers that they only had . From little information  she could extract from her brother which honestly was getting blood from a stone on the subject  but what she did learn was they were well off living in a nice area where all the other rich people living it lavishly which was probably from the money they gotten . the price of her childhood gave them  she was always curious to see the price tag that was attached to her suffering.  

“ why won’t you bring me” she asked seemed like she was a broken record  the same words on  repeat since she found out and  seem her brother were on the same record. 

“ because nothing good will come from it “ piotr sighed . “ you are not ready malyshka” he tried being gentle , tried to get her to understand where he was coming from . 

“ don’t call me that i’m not baby , i should decide if i’m ready it my answers not yours “ she huffed . 

“ you don’t think i want answer why i had to think i failed you , i couldn’t protect you  i want answers but we are not ready little one” he patted her head only for her to glare. 

“ i am ready it’s not like they could hurt me more” she rolled her eyes . 

“ they are colder than before “ he pointed it out. 

“ i can set them on fire warm their hearts” she shrugged. 

“ i am protecting you by not bring you there not them , i didn’t before but now i am whether you like it or not “ that hurt and finality in his voice that stop her pushing further it made her storm off with one word coming out of her mouth . 

“ suka” . 

Logan in all his years  which was a lot of living , he’d never been this way it was a strong sense that ran throughout his body warming the cold metal of his skeleton if it was possible. Intrigued by the woman who was so fierce , so strong and yet so soft and vulnerable . it was scary and amazing all in once not that he would admit that outloud . 

Even now she was storming around probably giving out about her brother  but he couldn’t tell seeing when she got like that well it wasn’t in english she spoke . 

“You know she gonna catch on to you gawking at her” scott voice startling him from the train of thought or more so infatuation he found himself stuck in . 

“ not gawking , checking to see if she ok don’t need a jungle of vines on the ground there” he shrugged . 

“ so that isn’t drool on your cheek or are you actually more animal then man” . 

“Fuck off and what did i tell you about sneaking up on me” he growled . 

“ nothing because i never have , too busy with the heart eyes it cute really” scott smiled only for jean to slap him  only for logan well to head exactly where they knew he would. 

“ least now he’ll finally stop looking at you like that” it was almost relief in the mans tone as he spoke . 

“ no he never looked at me like that” jeans head shook as she watched the man she well had a complicated relationship with a start  looking at someone with something more. Whatever thought he felt for jean he was actually feeling for y/n , jean just hoped he would accept it and see he was worthy of something more in his life then all this. 

“ whats got you storming holes through the grass , you know hot wheels takes pride in his garden “ he called making her pacing halt. 

“ well if he and my brother would just help me out and took bride  in letting me see my parents well” she growled . 

“ it’s pride with a p … look maybe it for the best parents are overrated” .

“ americans always think that” she rolled her eyes. 

“ well i’m canadian “ he chuckled confusing her more. 

“ it’s not like i’m looking for a happy family , i .. i just want answers like what makes a person wake up one morning  think oh  lets sell the child and live happy in america” she looked down at the ground. 

“ easy their assholes , selfish assholes and they call mutants monsters yet people discard or sell their offspring like it’s nothing” . 

“ well i wasn’t nothing i came with price tag “ she flopped on the ground it was everything and nothing all in once .

“ look sweetheart people like that only care for themselves not the people around them even if it is their own kids , you are worth more than anything they could of gotten “ he sat beside her not caring at the looks he was getting in the distance because he was slowly getting use to them seemed to happen a lot since she came to the mansion . 

“ you are good guy but i’m not giving up on this “ she watched the sky above it wasn’t as beautiful as the night scare but it was beautiful in it own way . 

“ i’m not a good guy . good guys get taken home to mom and pop and well men like me are flirted with “ he laughed dryly remembering it as clearly when those words where spoken to him . 

“ if mine didn’t sell me i would totally introduce you to them “ she laughed . “ you are good man even though you pretend your not “ she smiled up at him .

“ you must be getting cabin fever how about we take a trip” he stood up abruptly . 

“ are we allowed to do that?” she asked almost hushed like whisper. 

“ it not a prison bub and i’m not bringing you to your parents but maybe getting out of here will help” he held his hand out watching and waiting , hoping she would take it. 

“ lets go “ she smiled  as he pulled her up . 

Almost cat like as the two walked into the garage  she seen the jet for first time since well she was unconscious when they found her.  She never been in this part before which was weird but yet she stood in awe at all the vehicles . the only one she been in other than the jet was a windowless van with a hood on her head, she could hear the world pass bye but she never got to see it hell since coming to this place she  almost forgot there was a world.  The two stopped and her eyes looked down to see a motorcycle sitting then up to see logan coming at her with a contraption in his hand. 

“ i don’t like hoods” she stood back . 

“ its not a hood look you can see out here , you don’t have a metal dome like your brother so you need to wear it , trust me” he explained as she stood as he lowered it over her head it wasn’t heavy like she thought it would be and she could actually see out of the little slot like he said. In all that her heart was beating so fast she felt like it was going to come out of her chest. He’d never been so close , so much so she could see the extent of the hazel color of his eyes  or the scruff that was starting to grow on his face. 

“ you sit here and hold on , ok like good now no need to be scared “ he smirked as he felt her presence on his back and his claw coming to the ignition bring the bike to life . “ here hands here” he smiled pulling them to his waist kicking the stand and heading off. He felt her grip tighten as her fingers bunch up on his shirt. 

“ this isn’t you bike is it?” she asked as they were driving out the school gates . 

“ more shared custody “ he laughed. 

“ has anyone seen y/n we had another argument” piotr asked . 

“ anyone seen my bike” scott asked almost a second later causing jean and ororo to share knowing smile knowing exactly that both were with the same man . 

“Both are safe with logan “ charles spoke up. 

“ it might do her good to get out see there is more than just the school take her mind off it all she is here with just the thoughts of it all a distraction is what she needs” charles looked between the men . 

“ what about my bike “ scott whined. 

“ also safe probably more safer with y/n on it” storm smirked . 

“ he needs To atleast  use the keys before he breaks it” scott Hid the small smile on his face.  

The world was beautiful ,  it was almost magical all the greenery she passed by the wind on  her skin as she took it all it , soaked It up Like a sponge Then the transition  To the city it was almost like something out of a movie or pages  in a book .  The different contrast From greenery to the tall building almost Like they were in the clouds . 

All different colors and shapes , so many People walking going about their day . All the different scents hit Her nose some amazing , some Ok and some She wished never graced her nostrils . Then it was obvious to the man that was currently in front of her  , the feeling of his shirt at Tips of her fingers , the scent she Slowly got excited to smell each night while she sat or was walking to the kitchen. She didn't realize Lost in the feeling of Well everything , her hands gliding Along logans tshirt , comforting Motions Yet it was doing anything but such . Only for the bike to go faster and the feeling Her hand grabbing The material tightly Once more. 

He enjoyed the closeness , the feeling of her touch on him , her chest laying Against his Back it was good , too good he didn't realize he Pulled the accelerator  as hard As he did but then again it worked in his Favor too having her more Close to him . She was special he couldn't  deny it  And couldn't deny he felt something More than friendship with the woman . He wasn’t  shy if he could he would tell her not a problem , it wasn't the time she was going Through the other side of a life of hell so instead of it all he would help her as much as he could . Build A friendship he Was happy with that for now and meant It . She first person not to see him as a project , subject  to examine Or something to play with when life got a little boring . Although they were good friends now at start it was exactly how jean made him Feel .  

The bike pulled to a stop she hopped Off looking around making him chuckle. 

“ here you'll see it better without this” he chuckled Taking the helmet off her head . Her eyes looking up At the big gate . it was what she remembered well from the print of it  from her grandmothers album . she always said when she  was  older every landmark in that book she was a going to see for herself . Now here she stood  at one of those landmarked moments in her grandmothers album . the same exact place only in color and not in the print she was looking with her own eyes it was a surreal moment.  Something that felt so far removed  and yet it was happening in real time .  she could help the smile that over took  face it was probably biggest smile logan seen on her face that was for sure . another surprise how energetic she was  almost bouncing from foot to foot to even get start and yet she stay in one part til logan got close once he did she put her hand in his and pulled him forward eager to explore they place she only heard of in a stories .  not once  did her grip on his hand pulled away even when she was looking at statues  and getting him to read the signs she couldn’t .  her eyes wide and curious watching people pass by or dogs on their leashes she almost hid , she forgot all this existed  it was a bittersweet thing to being free was relearning the things that existed animals , people and places.  Even ducks and local park life was so foreign to her mind and yet she knew what they were but it was like it was imaginary in away . some parts reminded her of the mansion she wondered if this park was where charles got inspiration .  He watched , talked her through everything frankly he was torn  between sad and thinking the reactions were adorable . small things that were almost a luxury to her where as he and many people in the park or even mansion . all the things that usually didn’t really get a second thought and now he realized he was kinda grateful to experience it all again .  then she froze completely her brows arched like she was trying to figure out something  til the first time she let go of his hand and walked ahead almost running leading him to follow.  She went to the bushes and disappeared and reappeared before he could even react to what was happening. 

“ you know you can’t take that home” he chuckled as she looked up and little fluffball in her hands . 

“Why not he’s alone , isn’t that what the school is for” her head tilted” she smiled looking down. “ i already named him logan meet bub” she beamed holding the kitten out poor thing was in a rough shape almost  resembling her when he first saw her in the cage  and yet a little cute. “ i will deal with professor man ” she shrugged taking his hand again .

“ oh this i will want to see” he chuckled following after her slightly disappointed til she took his hand again . 

“ can we come back here” she asked softly . 

“ yeah we can come back anytime you want sweetheart” `he smiled instantly he knew there and then she was the one for him . 

" he can't say no to bub" she giggled as the kitten nuzzled into her arm.

" i call you bub though " logan smirked .

" i like sweetheart more" she smirked walked a head pulling him behind her .

part 7

taglist : @oscarissac2099 @ayamenimthiriel @mega-kittyglitter-1

[pedgito]

Hey! I'm very awkward when it comes to requesting stuff but I'm shooting my idea and if you decide to write it, awesome, if not, I'll still adore you and your work. Anyway, what about a reader that's always been kinda there and around but Eddie never noticed her. Maybe she lives in the trailer park as well and one day Wayne orders Eddie to help out neighbors with something and Eddie gets surprised by her existence or something...

I dunno, I just like the "falling for someone who was already there all the time" trope...

Thanks xx

author’s note: this has full fic potential and i love it, but enjoy what little drabble my brain could handle. <3

cw: sfw, neighbors/meet-cutes, set in 86, reader and eddie run in different circles, wayne is such a dad he can’t help it, this isn’t really fluffy exactly, but it’s very sweet

word count: 2k

Living near the Munson’s had always been, for a better lack of words, eventful. You move in six years prior, the world being ushered into a new era of the 80s, a quaint but rundown neighborhood that looked normal, and a new school to throw yourself into, again—your parents were also never really home.

So, as a result, you’d learn to care for yourself. It wasn’t their fault—things were tough, money needed to be made, and you were at the perfect age to manage keeping yourself alive and fed, regardless if it was done in a justifiable or acceptable manner. And the neighbors were nice—most of them, at least.

You’d learned pretty quickly that it was a place for the older residents of Hawkins, men and women in their late 50s alongside a couple small families—a young woman with a small toddler, another family of four, and right next door; an older gentleman and his son.

You never spoke to him, not once. Wayne, the older man in question, only finally spoke to you when he caught you outside on an early morning taking out the trash, parents having already left for the day.

He worked nights, so he had just come home from a very long shift, a cigarette perched upon his lips. He was nice, polite—but obviously exhausted.

“You alright, kid?” He asks suddenly, though his voice is calm.

He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you were almost always on your own, driveway empty of cars or even a bike, leaving you chasing down the bus or walking to school most mornings.

You shrug honestly, offering a small smile.

“I’m managing.” You tell him, meaning it. “Thanks for asking.”

After that, it becomes a regular thing. Wayne checks up on you when he can, quick and fleeting conversations in the early mornings when the sun is just starting to come up.

You learn that his son isn’t actually his son, rather his nephew. He’s a couple years older then, trudging his way through the beginnings of a tumultuous freshman year—and you don’t see him often, only by coincidence in the halls where he doesn’t even glance your way.

He’s awkward, tall and lanky, hair in the weird stage of being too long and too short all at once—he’s probably growing it out, you think. It’s a wild next of curls that is nothing a brush couldn’t fix, but it didn’t seem like he owned one. Eddie, that is.

Wayne calls him Edward when he’s mad, coming home too late, being loud when he’s so desperately trying to sleep—you can hear all of it, the walls of your trailer are so thin that nothing is safe.

And life is busy; those six years pass in a breeze, but things are still the same. You’ve never spoken a word to Eddie, your parents are still gone most of the time, if not more now that you’re of age, and Wayne still looks as tired as before, though less buried under the weight of scourging for cash.

Eddie must have some type of job, or something—and he’s extremely loud, always playing with his guitar on the weekends when he’s home, amp placed under the bedroom window adjacent to yours. It’s not like you can really complain, it’s broad daylight, most people are out living their lives, but you’re stuck at home.

He can sing, you’ll give him that. So, it’s not all bad.

He drives too, a clunky piece of junk as Wayne calls it, but to Eddie, it’s his beloved. Wayne almost offers to ask Eddie if he’ll give you lifts to school, but you’re adamant in your refusal.

“I like walking, it’s fine.” You assure him. “I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

“Boy’s like my son, he’ll do it if I ask.” Wayne says, eyes flicking up toward Eddie’s bedroom, his shadow crossing the window. “You two would get along, you know.”

“I dunno,” You disagree, “we don’t exactly run in similar crowds.”

Wayne makes a noise, a small huff of acknowledgment.

“He’s struggling,” Wayne admits, “on his third try at graduating and I’m starting to think it’d be easier to pull him out and help him get his GED.”

You knew that much—Eddie should’ve graduated already, yet he was still stuck at the same lunch table for those following years, preaching to young minds of the susceptible D&D nerds.

“Maybe—“ You agree, but Wayne quickly cuts you off.

“Hey, you’re smart,” Wayne assumes, but he’s seen the textbooks you’ve brought home, levels above the classes Eddie takes, “got good grades?”

“Mostly A’s,” You admit, “m’trying to get into a good college and AP classes look good on paper.”

Wayne thinks for a moment, falling silent as he flicks the ashes away from his cigarette, “Think you can do me a solid?”

And Wayne’s never steered you wrong, even offering you dinner when your parents forget to buy groceries for the week, making sure your belly is just as full as his. He constantly grumbles about how careless you parents were, similar to Eddie’s—you never pried on that matter, feeling like it was none of your business.

“I can try.”

“How do you feel about tutoring Eddie?” He asks curiously, “He’s a good kid, I swear—he just can’t focus for shit.”

“I…don’t know.” You reply wearily, “I don’t think he wants to take that stuff seriously—“

“He does, he does,” Wayne insists, “it’s hard for him to learn in that type of setting, I think he needs the one on one. I understand if you don’t want to, I just think it might be worth tryin’.”

Wayne senses your hesitance.

“I’m sorry for asking, you don’t have to—“

“I will,” You respond quickly, not harping on it any longer, “I mean, I can.”

And maybe this was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made, but you wouldn’t know if you didn’t try.

You knock on the trailer door a couple days later, in the earlier hours on a Saturday morning, a book clutched to your chest and a tired smile on your face—but when the door opens, you’re not met with the same expression.

If anything, it’s surprise that’s riddling his face.

Wayne must not have said anything, which is just as mortifying.

“Who—“ Eddie stops himself, eyeing you carefully, “are you—don’t I have a class with you?”

You nod slowly, “Econ, yeah.”

“How do you know where I live?” Eddie asks, though he doesn’t sound offended, more amused if anything. “Did Dustin put you up to this?”

Henderson was a little shit, you knew that much—but you’d never spoken a word to him either.

“Eddie,” He’s just as shocked you know his name, eyes raking over your carefully, “I live next door.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, door cleaning open to peek at the trailer beside him, gaze quickly flicking back toward you. And suddenly it’s all clicking in his head, though slowly.

“You must be the reason I have to make an extra plate of dinner, right?” Eddie asks with a soft smile.

Whatever earlier assumptions you had about him dissipated into nothing, melted by the grin on his face and the subtle dimple in his cheek.

“It’s not my doing—Wayne worries about me.” You tell him, hoping he’ll understand. “Food’s good though, better than what I could make.”

Eddie widens the door silently, without question really, allowing you to step inside. It’s as barren as it is cluttered, random knick knacks on the shelves, counters, but devoid of trash.

“Wait, holy shit—you’re friend’s with Buckley, aren’t you?”

It’s startling, but you nod. You were—also in band with her, along with a long list of extracurriculars—why that one stood out the most to him, you’d never understand. You weren’t even aware Eddie knew you existed.

“Sort of,” You land on, “We’ve got a lot of classes together.”

And as if you weren’t already taken off-guard, Eddie speaks again.

“You play…trumpet?” He asks, snapping his fingers in celebration when you nod. “And piano?”

“How do you—no one knows that.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, genuinely confused, “I saw you playing a couple months ago—I was on the way to Hellfire and you were by yourself, I thought you were practicing for something—“

“You watched me play?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, yeah—you’re really fuckin’ good.” Eddie admits, “It’s not really my style but I love music, so—“

And he’s mentally beating himself up over not recognizing you sooner, feeling like a complete ass.

“Well, I don’t know if Wayne told you, but he asked me to help tutor you.” You explain, “I get it you want to kick me out, I’m just trying to do good by your uncle, you know?”

Eddie shrugs carelessly, “We can try, but I’m not promising it’ll help.”

“Are you sure you have the time?” You ask, knowing his weekends were usually occupied by something a lot more distracting and loud. “No guitar practice today?”

Eddie snorts at that, “Shit, yeah—I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve listened to it for six years, I’m used to it.”

Eddie gawks at that, feeling even worse.

“Hey, it’s fine—I wouldn’t notice me either.”

He smiles slightly, “It’s not that.”

You plead with him silently, following him to the small table tucked in the corner of his trailer, two chairs on either side.

“Kinda thought you were a ghost, honestly—“ Eddie admits, “or just like, figment of my imagination.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion, taking a seat across from him.

“I swear I’ve never seen you around here—that’s mostly my fault, I’m not home often.” Eddie tells you, “but I remembered your face when I’d see you at school, didn’t know your name—I mean, I still don’t but—“

You snort softly, offering him your name with a quiet interjection. He nods knowingly, grin growing wider.

“I feel like an asshole for not realizing you’ve been my neighbor for that long—Wayne always talked about you, kind of in passing, but I never thought anything of it.”

“I’m not offended, Eddie.” You tell him, hoping he’d understand.

And it’s not that Eddie didn’t remember your face, he just couldn’t believe it was real, that you were real. He could’ve sworn you didn’t exist at all, like he’s been making you up in his mind.

“Can we make a deal?” Eddie asks suddenly.

“Depends.” You counter, smile pulling at your face.

“If this works, will you teach me some stuff on the piano?”

Eddie was the definition of never judging someone at first glance, his interesting style contrasting his personality in the best ways. He’s always came off as dark, pensive, similar to his uncle in the way he always had a cigarette between his lips or a scowl on his face.

“If this works—sure.” You agree with ease.

“God, I feel like a total ass.” Eddie admits, slamming his fist against the table softly, “Six years, are you sure?”

“It’s not for lack of trying, Eddie.” You tell him, “If I wanted to be noticed you would’ve known. I’m really good at blending in, unfortunately.”

It still doesn’t change how he feels.

“Besides, you never realize how much people reveal about themselves when they don’t know you’re around.” You add shyly, eyes connecting with him briefly.

Eddie laughs slightly, leaning forward to flip the textbook open.

“We can circle back to that,” Eddie teases, “I won’t forget.”

There’s not a day that passes following where Eddie hasn’t wedged himself into your existence, determined to discover everything that he’s missed out on.

And it’s startling how much you like him, the fact of him being right out of reach for so long—it’s bittersweet.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[ohtobeleah]

I’m loving terms of endearment. Can’t wait to see what happens next.

Warnings: mentions of mental health issues like bipolar. Domestic abuse mentions. Also! The pillow case thing is something Baileys mother still does to this day. 🥺 here’s the Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You playing babysitter now, Bradshaw?” Phoenix taunted as she caught sight of Bradley Bradshaw walking into the Hard Deck with your little girl strung on his hip. Her head lulling onto his shoulder, tired and just ready to go home after a massive day of doing whatever two year olds get up to at pre-school. “Daddy daycare suits you.”

“Eat me.” Rooster shot back as he came over to greet her and Bob who sat parched up at one of the bar tables. “Hangman taxied into Y/n’s workshop late this afternoon, she got stuck with pickup.”

“Hiya Dot—“ Bob beamed as Rooster handed her over. His arms were outstretched almost from the second he saw the two year old's heterochromia eyes. One blue, one brown.

“I’m just here picking up some dinner.”

“You know Bradshaw, you’re playing a dangerous game here.” Phoenix held her beer up to her lips as she spoke. “Felix isn’t the type of girl who melts like putty into a man’s arms.” Rooster raised a questioning eyebrow, coaxing Phoenix to explain her theory. “She’s been through hell from what we can all tell, you playing baby driver isn’t gonna make her any less inclined to wanna play house.”

“Good thing I don’t wanna just play house huh?” Rooster tapped the top of the table twice before he made his way over to the bar. Leaving Dot in the capable hands of Robert Floyd while he ordered a few burgers to go from Penny.

“Couple of burgers to go Pen, and I’ll fix up Odette's juice tap too while I’m here.” Penny couldn’t help but to smirk as she input Roosters' order, sending it through to the kitchen out back before ringing up the tab he’d started on your daughter’s behalf. Penny had very clear, very strict instructions—all juices and fizzies you ever ordered for Dot were to be put under Roosters name. He’d started the tan one night after he’d asked if you wanted a drink, at first you were reluctant, but you thanked him nonetheless and asked for another draft. Rooster also took it upon himself to get your daughter an orange juice.

That was a month after you’d moved in the Hangman. It had been another three since.

“You still playing the long con Bradshaw?” Penny cooed as she took Roosters card, the same he always used. Swiping it through and clearing his tab. “That girl’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Don’t I know it.” Rooster wore his heart on his sleeve, everyone knew it. Including him. He was incredibly self aware that when he was infatuated with someone they became his whole world. “But what’s a guy gonna do Pen? Honestly, whatever she wants me to do I’ll do it.”

“She knows, just give her time Rooster, a girl like Y/n doesn’t let her guard down easily. So the fact she’s trusting you to look after her daughter right now is an absolute feat.”

“She lets Hangman look after her all the time.” Rooster took his card back gently before pocketing it back into his wallet.

“Yeah, she also showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night after her partner tried to kill her.” Penny didn’t know that Rooster didn’t know all the details of what brought you to North Island. He understood whatever it was had you reluctant to trust, but his heart absolutely sunk into his stomach hearing Penny say something so horrible so nonchalantly. “Of course she’s gonna trust him, he’s obviously earned it—they’ve known each other for how long?”

“Since they were kids.” Rooster answered as Penny gave him an all knowing smile. Spraying down the bar with sanitizer before she wiped it clean.

“Exactly, but whatever you’re doing Roo, you’re doing right.” Pete Mitchell and Penny Benjamin were all Bradley had in terms of parental figures. He trusted their judgment more than his own sometimes. So to hear her say he was doing something good reassured him that love was indeed the pursuit of a fool—but it would be worth it all for you. “Felix will come around, she’s obviously smitten as for you, just—take it easy, let her control the speed, she’s a stray, they take a while to warm up.”

Rooster didn’t stay all that long, he knew Odette was just itching to get home. He could see it in her eyes as she played with the fabric of Bob's T-shirt. Sucking her thumb to soothe herself as the music got a little louder. With a plastic bag full of takeout, Rooster took your daughter back from where she sat on Bob's lap. Like she’d done a million times, the second Rooster had her situated on his hip—she melted into his side. Bradley had become a bigger part of your daughter’s life than he understood. Deciding his place was not the better of his two options to take Odette.

“You can't be serious?” Jake opened his front door with a sigh of disbelief as Odette came bounding up across the grass. “What are you doing here!”

“Well, I was thinking– all her stuff is here, I don't have anything at mine, so the most logical thing to do would probably be to just watch her here for a couple of hours.” Rooster explained as he carried the take out bag in his hand and Dot’s school bag over his shoulder. He dwarfed it– the purple bag that seemed too big at times for your daughter barely fit over Bradley's shoulder. The strap nearly cutting of his circulation as he made his way over to where Jake now stood holding the little girl he’d take a hail of bullets for. “Already text Felix, so she knows we’re gonna be here.”

“Okay well, it's just gonna be you guys for a while– Coyotes up for a game of pool.” Jake felt Odette squirm in his grasp as he placed her down on the ground before she took off in the direction of her dollhouse. “Dont burn my house down.” Tapping Rooster twice on the shoulder, Jake passed him in the entrance way, throwing him his house key off his key chain in the process. “And don't forget her bedtime is seven thirty.”

Jake Seresin liked to pretend he didn't care all that much about anyone or anything, but under the thin layer of vanity and egomaniacal persona he liked to project more often than not–he would lay his life on the line for you and your daughter if need be. Sure he was starting to feel a little cramped being outnumbered in his own home. But he knew the reason you were so reluctant to apply for staff accommodation in the first place. Jake had always been and would always continue to be a protector. Having him just a few steps down the hall brought you unmatchable comfort. You were safe here, he’d promised you that. So far? So good.

He just wished he had done something sooner rather than later. He always has an underlying suspicion that your partner Jaidyn wasn’t all that respectable. It wasn’t until you started reaching out for help that Jake realised just how bad things had truly gotten—but he wasn’t quick enough on the draw. He didn’t have enough leave saved up to do a trip back to Texas to come and figure out what was actually going on. Before he knew it? You were at his door with just the clothes on your back and whatever you could fit in a bag for Odette.

“You didn’t come for me!” You weren’t the type of person to drink yourself drunk. But as you threw up the contents of your stomach into Jake's toilet as he rubbed and back, held your daughter and made sure your hair wasn’t getting caught in the trajectory of your vomit—the smell was undeniably unpleasant. You’d surely had way too much. “You could have come for me but you didn’t—“

“I was coming for you Y/n, I just needed to get some time off work that’s all—you know I would have been there in an instant if I was able to.”

“I didn’t drive—“ That's all you explained that initial night as you threw up everything in your system. Jake noticed the dried blood in your hair and the bruises that were starting to show. “Taxi.” He didn’t press for any more details, Nake knew you’d tell him come the morning. “You didn’t fucking come for me, I needed you—“ It was painful to see you the way you were, Jake loved you like his own sister. He’d always seen you as one, so to hear you say he’d let you down when you needed him the most broke his heart. “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

So Jake never pressured you to apply, he let you take your time. But the more he saw your light coming back? Especially around Bradley Bradshaw, surely a little nudge in the right direction wouldn’t heart his chances in getting his house back.

“I got it.” Rooster answered as Jake shut the front door, the sound of Dot playing with her dollhouse the only thing filling the void of silence. “Alright little one, let’s get you all sorted.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

It was honestly a relief that Rooster had decided to take Dot back to your place. It wasn't something you had thought through all that much, but when you eventually saw the text he’d sent about doing that instead–your anxiety seemed to subside to a point where you could actually focus on your work. Get it done quickly so you could get home to your little girl.

Rooster heard you pulling up into the driveway around eight thirty. He swore he heard the new Taylor Swift album blaring about a mile down the road before headlights were lighting up the living room. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t sung along a time or two to bejeweled if he heard it playing in your workshop whenever he’d stop by for lunch.

At the sound of keys rattling, Bradley gently sat up a little straighter on the lounge. He’d tried to negotiate with Odette around seven o’clock that she had to start getting ready for bed but her only response was ‘not without mama.’ So, he compromised. The two year old was fast asleep as cocomelon played softly in the background and the rainbow lights on the Christmas tree illuminated the living room.

“Before you scold me, she’s been like this since seven thirty.” Rooster defended himself as you stood in the entryway looking over at where he laid with your daughter sleeping on his chest. He’d been absentmindedly drawing unidentifiable shapes across her back to settle her. It was a sight that just melted your heart. “I just didn’t have the heart to move her up into your room.”

“You don’t know how thankful I am Rooster, honestly—“ You mumbled as you kicked off your boots. You were tossing up whether or not to have a quick shower at work before coming home, but you felt guilty leaving Bradley to look after Odette more than he had to.

“Don’t even stress, really.” Rooster groaned as he stood. Odette stayed clung to his chest as he carried her over to where you stood. Your shoulders softened either more as she curled into his chest even more as she slept. “I’ll go put her to bed. Why don’t you have a shower, change, and before you ask I got you a burger and some fries."

“Woah, you really do know how to seduce a woman don’t you Bradshaw.” Teasing Bradley as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, your hand resting on his shoulder. “I’ll be right down, shower sounds way too good after I just spent two hours cleaning dismembered bird parts from Jake's intake.”

“You know sometimes you make it sound so glamorous.” Rooster followed you up the stairs, hot on your heels as he carried your daughter to the room you shared. It wasn’t much but it was most definitely enough. She had her own little bed while you had yours. In terms of space there was enough room to still put a desk and perhaps a small office chair if you wanted to. Jake had even at one point offered to swap rooms with you. He wanted you to have the master since you had Odette too—but you were already imposing on his space enough. To take his room too would’ve been cruel.

“Yeah, and the dried vomit I always end up cleaning out of your oxygen tanks makes your job seem so desirable as well.” Rooster smirked as he took a right at the top of the staircase as you made a sharp left. “But yeah—it wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing on my Friday night, that’s for sure.”

You felt comfortable around Bradley, it was weird—usually you were a little stand-offish around men in general. A little more reserved and timid. With Jake? Never. He’d seen you at your worst so it could only go up. But with Bradley? Things just felt so domestic and easygoing. You knew he liked you, you liked him too. But you couldn’t drag him into your mess. He was too much of a good guy to be dealing with crazy ex partners and the truckload of baggage you brought to the table.

As you washed away shower thoughts of Rooster, he put your daughter to bed for the night. Tucking her in, making sure she had her favorite teddy by her side for extra comfort. She had a bad habit of sucking her thumb, but god did she look way too adorable. He couldn't help himself, it felt so right, gently brushing her hair back and out of the way of her forehead before planting the softest of kisses against her forehead. There was probably some undiscussed boundary he’d crossed–but Odette Dolan was the light of everyone's life. Including Bradleys.

“Sleep tight Dot.” Rooster cooed as he turned on his heels, noticing the open cupboard. He knew that if he didn’t shut it now Dot may wake up later in the night crying. At the young age of two, monsters in the closet were a real problem. Rooster knew you had your own monsters, but he also knew he couldn't do much to help you with those. At least he could help protect Odette. “What's all this huh?” Rooster smirked to himself as he noticed all the christmas presents tucked inside the closet. You spoiled her rotten. Everything from barbie dolls to new clothes, school supplies and even some new dress ups. “She’s got you all sorted huh?”

Rooster shut the closet with a smile plastered across his face–he had already brought you a bracelet he’d seen you eyeing off from time to time whenever you guys would go into Westfields together. The white gold bracelet with diamonds surely wasn't something you were going to splurge on. He knew you were reluctant to spend big on yourself, something that had been instilled in you since you were a child. But he already had the bracelet under his tree.

“God, I'm starving!” You sighed as you wrapped a towel around your head, holding your wet locks up in a plop style twist. “That burger is gonna go down a treat.”

“You're welcome, I settled Dot's juice tab too.” Rooster beamed as he sat at the dining table watching as you bent over to retrieve the burger he’d got you. The oversized shirt left very little to his imagination as the pair of panties you wore peaked out. Lace. Black.

“Good, don't open it again, I can pay for my daughter's drinks, Bradshaw.” You were so hungry that you didn't even bother putting the cold burger in the microwave. Taking a bite as you rolled your eyes in relief. “Fuck this is so good.”

“Too late, already started another one–” It wasn't that you weren't thankful for the gesture, it was more so the fact you felt obligated to pay Bradley back. It was just the way you were raised by your brothers. Any debt you owed anyone you paid back the second you were good for it. Y/l/n’s didn't owe anything to anyone. “And before you say you’ll pay me back, don't even bother, it's a non-negotiable.”

“You know Bradshaw, You're playing a dangerous game here.” You cooed as you sauntered over to where he sat, straddling his waist as he welcomed you onto his lap.

“Funny you say that, Phoenix said the same thing.” Bradley responded as he let his hands slip up your back under the shirt you were wearing. One of his.

“She's smart, she knows you're falling in love with me–doesn’t want you getting hurt.” You took another bite of your burger. God Bradley could not be more in love with you if he tried. “It's inevitable that I'll break your heart.” Not that you were trying to. You liked Rooster, probably more than you let yourself admit. A life with him didn't seem too bad in the grand scheme of things. But you knew deep down, you weren't good enough for anyone as kind and as loving as Bradley Bradshaw.

“What do you mean falling in love with you? I've already fallen.” Bradley was quick to press a kiss to your collarbone. “Just waiting for the moment you admit it to yourself that you’re in love with me too.”

“Oh–” You scoffed. “You'll be waiting a while there big boy, hope you're comfortable.” You teased as you softly moved your hips against Bradley's crotch. He bit back a moan as you chuckled softly to yourself.

“Very, especially with you sitting on my lap right now.” Roosters hands had slipped out from under your shirt to help guide your hips. You could feel him bulging through his jeans.

“Yeah I thought you were a little happy to see me.” Raising an eyebrow as you took the final bite of your burger, sucking your fingers clean almost seductively. Bradley was losing his goddamn mind.

“Extremely, I’m extremely happy to see you” Roster leaned in again to kiss your neck. “Always.” Leaving soft pepper-like kisses against the junction of your neck and shoulder—he noticed how you lulled your head to the side. Giving him more access as you continued to move your hips in small circles. “You’re driving me crazy here Fe.”

“Am I?” You teased with an all knowing attitude. “You should stay the night.” Rooster had to stop his assault on your neck just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. You'd never asked him to stay the night before.

“How would that work with a two year old in the same room?” Bradley raised a brow as he pulled away. A soft pink hume had crept across his cheeks. Clearly flustered.

“There’s a living room, a bathroom, a kitchen and a dining room we could surely take advantage of.” You knew you had him all kinds of fucked up,

So much so he’d forgotten how to talk. “I’m sure between the two of us we could figure something out?” You couldn’t help but to laugh as Bradley nodded desperately in response before his lips were on yours in a second. Softly melting into one as your hands now roamed his torso under his shirt. Grinding against him as the friction his jeans brought felt way too good to stop.

“You sure about this?” Bradley whispered as he pulled away flustered and horny. If you said stop now he’d be able to, in a few more minutes he’d really have to fight his urges. “Because we can stop if you.”

“You picked my daughter up from daycare Bradley, you brought me dinner, I’m sure—“ You kissed him again in a needy manner. Your tongues danced with one anothers Rooster played with the hem of your shirt. Balling it into his palms before pulling away. Lifting your arms above your head so he could remove it. “I’m so sure—“

“Holy shit—“ Bradley felt like a teenager again as he sat eye to eye with your exposed breasts. He’d seen what felt like a million pairs before but yours? Out of this world beautiful. “Baby you’re killing me here.”

“You wanna go—“ Before you could finish your sentence there was obnoxious knocking coming from the front door. You flung yourself so quickly from Roosters lap he swore he got whiplash from how quickly you jumped off him. Snatching your shirt from his hands as you raced over to see who it was. “Fucking hell.” As you opened the door, Jake stood there with a slump to his shoulders.

“Coyote must have a pool teacher, he flogged my ass—“ He murmured to himself as he pushed past you.

“Don’t you have a key?” You groaned, you’d just been cockblocked. It wasn’t all that often you decided to put yourself out there—and the one time you decided to let your guard down? Jakes there to ruin it.

“I gave it to Rooster!” He hissed back at you before he made eye contact with a very flushed Rooster sitting at his dining table. Putting two and two together with the fact you weren’t wearing any pants? He knew something was going on. “Okay no, unacceptable behaviour people—“

“You meddled!” Roosted whisper shouted as he stood from the chair you’d just been dry humping him on.

“Yeah but that wasn’t an invitation to fuck on my dining table man come on—“

“Nothing happened, dad.” You gruffed as you made your way over to the table, sitting down with a huff. “But you seriously have impeccable timing. I'll give you that.”

“Yeah, literally—I guess we could just wrap up those presents you’ve been hoarding in the cupboard instead?” Rooster saw the quick look of question on your face before it turned into a look of agreement.

“Oh yeah, well I mean I was just gonna throw them all into pillow cases but yeah I mean if you want to. Since we can’t you know, fuck on the dining table.” It was a jab at Jake who looked at you rather unimpressed. “You got any wrapping paper there papa or should we fuck on the couch instead?”

“There should be some out in the garage.” Jake answered as he stood with his hands on his hips. “This is my house you know, if I make a clear rule that there’s to be no fucking in any common areas of this household I expect it to be followed.”

“Hangman—“ Rooster sighed as he tapped him on the shoulder. “Nothing happened, and you can’t tell me you’ve never brought a blonde home and haven’t made it up the stairs?” Jake was silent for a moment as you and Bradley ganged up on him. Both laughing softly as you shared an all knowing look.

“It's my house!! I can do whatever I want!! God! You—you are a fucking miscreant if I ever knew one.” Jake groaned as he turned on his heels and made his way up the stairs. “Unbelievable, in my own home—“ You heard him muttering to himself as you and Bradley made your way to the garage. A box of seasonal products still sitting on top of the freezer from when you’d put up the Christmas tree a few days prior.

“Hey, what did you mean by pillow cases?” Bradley asked as he watched you finish out a roll of wrapping paper.

“Oh, it’s nothing really—“ It had been something you grew up with. “It’s just, we didn’t always have money for presents growing up—on the years me and my brothers were able to round up enough cash to buy my sisters a small present each, we barely had enough left over to buy wrapping paper and all that stuff, so we’d use pillow cases.” The way you said had Rooster in a tizzy. It seemed so normal.

“You mean you sometimes didn’t do presents at all?” Bradley Bradshaw knew his privilege, but he’d never actually had someone tell him to his face that gift wrapping was a luxury.

“Rooster, I’ve got a bipolar mum–but I honestly wouldn't even be able to tell you if she's still alive or not and an alcoholic addict dad who's only ever around when he needs money.” You explained as you stood in the garage of Jake's home. He’d come back down to give you a piece of his mind about respecting his furniture—but had heard you finally opening up to Bradley about your life. Something he’d been pleading with you to do. “They were never around, so we’d save whatever wasn’t going towards bills and food just to be able to buy a barbie or a tonka truck or something my kid sisters were desperate for—some years though we just had to go without because dad would find the money and it would be gone in seconds.”

“Y/n, that’s—“ Jake had always told Bradley that if he put his problems in a pile with yours he could guarantee he’d take his shit back so quickly. You’d been through so much. “I don't even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, just come help me wrap these presents because I don’t know what I’m doing if it’s not a pillow case.” Before you could make your way past where Bradley stood, he was reaching out to draw you into a kiss so passion filled it knocked the breath right out of your lungs. Dropping the wrapping paper you kissed him back, your arms around his neck as his hands settled on your hips.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, and whatever we are? I’m okay with, but just know that I’m all in with you—with your daughter, with your baggage.” Rooster kissed you one more time as his hands moved from your hips to cup your cheeks. “But I get the sense you’re trusting me more, so please—you can tell me anything Y/n.”

“You don’t wanna get involved, Rooster.” You said it almost as a final warning. Because whatever warnings you’d given Bradley before he hadn’t heard. As you looked lovingly into his eyes, deep swirling pools of browns and dark greens, you thought maybe for a moment you were worth his unconditional love. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Too bad, I’m already too invested to quit cold turkey now.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner

[bookishfeylin]

The AU in which Feyre is Resurrected as a Human

@feylinweek

For Feylin week day 3: AU. I’d love to revisit this AU and flesh this out into a multi chapter fic (I’m thinking maybe 5-8ish chapters?) at a later time but here’s a oneshot for now, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t go super in depth. :)

It was numbing, and painful, to emerge into the daylight after months stuck in the darkness Under the Mountain. 

Feyre winced, and leaned into Tamlin further as he led her outside, letting the sunshine wash away all the worries she’d been nursing ever since Amarantha had reminded her of the ultimate fate of her relationship with Tamlin. 

She supposed she should be grateful—after all, she’d never heard of another human being resurrected by the High Lords of Prythian—and Feyre supposed she should focus on that rather than her worries over her relationship with Tamlin ending as she aged and died within the next century, but Amarantha had made a good point. She was only human. Tamlin was not. For now they could be happy. But it wouldn’t last.

“Are you alright, Feyre?” Tamlin asked, his gentle question interrupting her spiraling thoughts. 

Unable to speak, Feyre nodded. Darkness and horror clawed at her heart and mind, but Feyre didn’t want them to take over. So she nodded, and cleared her mind.

~~~

The marriage happened a year later, when Prythian was finally at peace, and the darkness and horror had finally left her alone.

But the anxiety stayed, and on their honeymoon Feyre finally, finally found the strength to voice her long-suppressed worry.

“Don’t forget about me after I die.”

She’d spent months agonizing over how to say it, and in the end decided not to sugar coat it.

In Tamlin’s arms, she felt him shift at her statement, before his knuckle came under her chin to tilt her head up.

She was surprised to see confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I assume after me you’ll have another wife, centuries from now. And I’m ok with that… I just— I just don’t want you to forget me.”

“I could never forget you. But I already know I will not be taking another wife after you, Feyre. And I hope you know that too.”

“Tam—””

“I don’t want you to worry, love. I’m determined to grow old beside you.” Feyre laughed at that, knowing Tamlin was not going to age at nearly the same rate as she was, but accepted his declaration nonetheless. They should enjoy their happiness together while they could, after all.

~~~

Days before their tenth anniversary, Tamlin began acting differently. It started with secret meetings with Lucien, then his advisers, then quiet conversations with the staff of the manor. After noticing how tearful Alis was after one such meeting, Feyre felt compelled to ask what exactly Tamlin was telling them all, but Alis refused.

Then their tenth anniversary arrived, and it felt, to Feyre, almost like a month-long goodbye party. They toured Prythian, danced with their people, and made love under the stars. And then, the day after they returned, Feyre awoke to find a human asleep next to her.

~~~

The first thing Feyre did, upon seeing Tamlin in human form, was laugh herself senseless. Her laughter woke her husband up, and he raised a brow after he was awake enough to realize what was happening.

But her laughter ended after he explained he planned on staying in a human form for the rest of his life. “I told you I want to grow old beside you, love. I plan on sticking to that promise.”

It wound up being an emotional day for them both, especially as they packed their things and were wished well by Lucien, who Tamlin had appointed as his successor, and the staff of the manner alike. Tamlin and Feyre took a pair of horses and rode them to the border, then walked across to the Human Lands, never to return.

~~~

The decades passed by, marked first by the birth of their children, and later by their grandchildren. By the time they had entered their seventies, guilt gnawed at Feyre over Tamlin aging alongside her, and she begged him to change back into his immortal High Fae form to avoid death, but he refused.

So it nearly killed Feyre when she woke up, at 83, to find he had passed away in his sleep. Only the love for her family kept her going. 

In time, Feyre’s health too began to fail, and when at 90 she lay on her deathbed with her daughter watching over her, she was surprised to hear footsteps enter her bedchamber. Opening her eyes, Feyre breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of the blond High fae in front of her, extending a hand. 

Slowly, she took his hand, leaving her body behind as she followed after Tamlin, happy to have joined her husband in the afterlife at long last. 

They had indeed aged together. And now they would have eternity to spend together as well.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 3: Battle Scars

You're making an effort to get along with the armored man you're stuck traveling with - at least so you don't want to kill each other. The Mandalorian isn't sure what to make of any of it. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-2, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence and injury; SA threatened but not described, did not happen to reader. No use of Y/N. Whole fic is violent and smutty, 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Length: 7.2k

The Mandalorian seemed to spend more time in his quarters than usual. You set up your bed before devouring the ration he’d shoved into your hands, eating the whole thing and almost making yourself sick, but you were so hungry it was hard to stop yourself from wolfing it down. 

You were already awake when he emerged and you were surprised he wasn’t already in the cockpit. You’d slept deeply enough that you thought he’d probably just slipped past you in the dark. But he stopped and looked at you for a moment as you were braiding your hair, trying to remember one of the more intricate styles from your home world that you hadn’t attempted in years. He turned to leave and you quickly tied the braid off before scrambling to your feet, half your hair still loose down your back. 

“Wait,” you jogged to catch up with him. He turned to face you, arms crossed, a silent wall of metal. “I know you said to stay out of the cockpit…” 

“I don’t…” he began but you held your hand up to silence him. 

“I’m not trying to be in your way and I don’t want to spend time with you any more than you want to spend time with me,” you said, your diplomat voice on. “But I was hoping you’d be OK with me going in the cockpit when you weren’t there.” 

He looked down at you. You could feel the intensity of his gaze but you held it all the same. 

“Why?” He asked eventually. “Planning to detour us?” 

“No,” you said, making sure your voice stayed even. This wouldn’t work if he saw you as an adversary all the damn time. “The hold is dark and boring. I’d like to look outside.” 

“Do you think space somehow isn’t dark and boring?” He asked, skeptical. 

“It’s better than the same four metal walls all the time,” you shrugged. “I won’t disrupt anything and I’ll leave as soon as you need back in. I’ll only do it when you’re resting.” 

He considered you for a moment. 

“Fine,” he said. You smiled a little and gave him a quick nod before turning to leave. “Wait.” You turned back, trying to hide your frown. You hoped he wouldn’t take your deal back already. 

“Yes?” You asked. He paused, like he was rethinking his question. 

“Are you really Imperial?” He asked eventually. 

You considered him. You’d read about Mandalorians since you’d come aboard his ship. They were bound by their word and their creed and you were pretty certain you wouldn’t need to worry about him slitting your throat in your sleep, even if he did hate you. But the Empire had been cruel to his people, decimating their race and their planet. The metal your father had paid for your transit - beskar - was probably stolen from his world during an Imperial assault, intercepted in a rebellion mission and then passed off to your father as an insurance policy of sorts. If he truly thought you were Imperial, you wouldn’t blame him at all for saying “fuck the creed” and throwing you out of the nearest airlock. But it was a useful lie, good cover for exactly what you were truly hiding. At least for now. 

“If I were,” you said slowly. “Would you kill me?” 

He looked at you, head cocked slightly to the side. 

“No,” he said eventually. “I said I would transport you and I will. Your allegiance in the war wouldn’t change that.” 

You nodded slowly, trying to find a way to fold yourself into the story he’d invented for you without outright lying. 

“I have…” you paused for a second. “Imperial ties.” 

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Your mother had known Bail Organa and you grew up playing with his daughter, Leia. Both had been Imperial Senators. You’d used your profession and connection for years to bring information from rebellion sympathizers within the Empire to where it needed to be. Imperial ties were important.

He nodded slowly, not speaking again before climbing into the cockpit for the day. 

You didn’t speak again for four days. You’d become skilled at learning his patterns and understanding exactly how to avoid him. If you timed it right, you could climb into your hiding place just as he was getting up for the day, watching from your perch in the ceiling as he went about his morning routine. He glanced around the hold when he came through but you weren’t sure if he was looking for you or for evidence of your wrong doing. Either way, you waited until you were sure he was settled into the cockpit before beginning your routine of practice and exercise, retreating to your hideout again just before he came down, seeking food and to use the fresher. 

He’d started monitoring your ration intake, which you weren’t sure what to do about. If he decided you hadn’t eaten enough, he’d leave a ration pack on the crate near your first hideout. He never said anything about it. But you’d eat what he put out before laying down in what you were pretty sure was the afternoon to sleep, always waking up with just enough time to clean up your bed, scramble into the ceiling, and watch as he retreated to his quarters for the few hours of sleep he seemed to need every day. 

That was your favorite part of the day. You gave him a few minutes, made sure he wasn’t going to come back out, before you crept into the cockpit. He darkened it before he left it, everything running at minimum power. But that was how you liked it best. You tried sitting in one of the seats the first night but it wasn’t close enough to outside for your liking, so you clambered over the controls and tucked yourself between the dash and the viewer, the stars bright and close, taking up your whole field of vision. 

You stayed there as long as you could, bringing your blanket with you so you could feel safe and comfortable while staring out into the vastness of it all. Space always made you feel so small. It was comforting, knowing just how small and inconsequential you really were. 

The fourth day, you’d lost track of time, your head resting on your knees as you felt like you were swimming in starlight, the galaxy whipping past outside. 

“Do you always sit up there?” Mando’s voice made you jump, your head whipping around to see him standing beside the captain’s chair. 

“Yes,” you said, unfolding yourself from your perch and deftly climbing down. “The view is better. Sorry, I lost track of time. I’ll get out of your way.” 

“Stay,” he said, not looking at you as he took his seat. “We’re coming up on Hosnian Prime.” 

You nodded, strapping into what had become your designated seat. 

“Another puck to fulfill?” You asked, giving in to your drive to fill the awkward silence. 

“And a resupply,” he said, not looking at you. The ship slowed, the planet appearing in front of you, a cloud of ships around it. 

“What do you need?” You asked. He glanced your way. “For the resupply, I mean. Do you have a list?” You could feel the skepticism in his gaze and it irritated you how clearly you could feel his eyes through that helmet. “I’d like to make myself useful. And the faster we get off this rock, the faster you can be rid of me.” 

“Fine,” he said after a moment, looking forward again. “I’m not sure how long this will take, Hosnian Prime is big and it’s densely populated, tracking is harder here. Try not to get yourself killed buying rations and bacta.” 

“I’ll do my best,” you rolled your eyes, settling back into your seat and watching as the Mandalorian eased you into a hanger at a spaceport. 

You perched on top of a crate to watch him load himself down with ammunition and gear, quietly observing his habits, hoping to make him predictable. 

“If you leave the ship, come back every night,” he said stiffly. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back and I’m not waiting for you while you go…” he paused, like he was searching for a word, and you raised your eyebrows. “Dancing. Or whatever it is dolls do.” 

“Don’t worry Mando,” you rolled your eyes. “I won’t let my vibrant social life get in your way.” 

You watched him descend the ramp and you waited a few minutes before you went and sat on the end of it. It was nice, seeing people again. Your life on Tatooine had been pretty isolated, occasional trips into Mos Espa the only thing breaking up the monotony of daily chores. You’d had your family, at least, which was a comfort but it was different than Naboo. There, you’d always been surrounded by people. It was hard to remember a time you were ever alone, often sleeping in the same room as Sosha to keep her safe. 

Of course, the last time you’d been to Mos Espa - before the day you boarded the Razor Crest, anyway - you’d found so much trouble that you had to flee the planet and change your name. Maybe you and throngs of people didn’t mesh as well as you thought.

The first few days, you kept to the ship, sticking with your usual habits and replacing curling up in the cockpit with people watching from the ramp. By day four, you were restless enough you decided to venture out and cross some things off Mando’s list. At least this way you’d get a say in the rations that were aboard. 

Hosnian Prime was an almost overwhelming place after spending a few years isolated on the outer rim. You’d forgotten what it was like to be in a crush of bodies flowing from one place to another, the noise and the color and the smell of this many people all together. It took some time for your senses to adjust, your ears not able to focus on any one sound, snippets of different conversations and people yelling from stalls and the drone of speeders melding together into a disorienting mass, your mind flitting through languages trying to understand it all. You shook yourself, putting up your hood. You needed to be able to focus. Anyone could sneak up on you now and kill you and Maker knew there were plenty of people who wanted to. You had to be on guard. 

You stocked up on rations and shopped around until you found bacta and other medical supplies for less than a small fortune. You also picked up some cleaning materials for weaponry and found a small kit you could use to patch clothing and flight suits - useful tools when your wardrobe options were limited. It was nice, feeling productive. It was small but it was the first time you’d accomplished something in weeks, and you made your way back to the Razor Crest with a smile on your face. 

The outing was enough to keep you satisfied for a few days of routine again before you started feeling restless. Mando had been gone a week now and in a planet that was more city than anything else, it would be impossible to know where he was or an idea of how long he’d be gone unless he planned to tell you - which he obviously didn’t. 

A week and a day after he left, you decided a different kind of practice was in order. It had been a while since you’d try to surveil anyone or get into places you shouldn’t be in an urban space. You put on your most nondescript clothes and grabbed a few of the credits your father and stashed in your bag before bidding you farewell and headed out into the city. 

It took you a bit to find someone to follow but you settled on a large man who looked like he was up to no good, leering at women who passed and sneering at everyone else. You kept to the shadows behind him, weaving through the press of people as he went about his business, never close enough that he saw you but never so far that you lost him. You tailed him for hours until he went into what you assumed was his apartment. Once he’d stayed inside for more than an hour and you realized you’d been slinking through the city for eight or nine and the sun was starting to set, you started trying to navigate your way back to the spaceport without asking for help. It was after dark when you returned and you were relieved to find the Razor Crest was still there and that Mando hadn’t come back and left without you. 

A new pattern began to take shape. One day, you’d stay at the ship, going about your usual routine. The next, out into the city to keep other skills sharp. You sometimes followed strangers, other times tried to break into places that seemed tricky, once you even just went and found more nondescript clothes than what you’d brought from Naboo and Tatooine, hoping they’d help you blend in on the myriad planets you’d likely be dragged to before the Mandalorian finally deposited you on Dantooine. 

Half way through his third week hunting, you were in the city, your challenge for the day having found their way home as the sun began to set. You were working your way back to the ship, pleased with how your self-made training session had gone. Your selection that day was a bit more challenging, often using a different exit for a building he visited than an entrance and he was smaller so he would often blend in with crowds as he went from place to place. But you’d tracked him all the same. You were starting to get concerned about when Mando was returning - at what point did you decide he’d just been wounded or killed and get yourself off world? - when you heard a scream. 

It was loud and pleading and close so you ran for it, slipping into holes in the crowd where you could and just pushing through where you couldn’t until you found the source. In an alley off a side street was a woman, her back to a wall and a cluster of four men around her. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she was obviously terrified, cowering and pressing herself into the building behind her like she was wishing it would swallow her whole. 

“Hey!” You snapped, stalking over to them. You’d left your blaster on the ship but your knife was heavy in your pocket. Four on one weren’t great odds, but you’d had worse. “I think she wants you to leave her alone.” 

“Stay out of this, off-worlder,” one spat, glancing at me. The woman looked at you, her eyes wide like she was begging for help. 

“Don’t think I will,” you said, stepping closer, cataloguing what you could read about the men. One had a blaster at his waist but he was close to you, you could probably take it quickly. Another had his hand to the woman’s throat and looked to be the biggest - you’d go for him second. “Last chance. Go home with life and limb intact.” 

“Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into, little girl?” The third man, whose back had been to you, turned to face you, a vibroknife in his hand. You nodded, admiring the weapon as you prowled closer. It was large and looked to be custom. It’d be a nice addition to your collection. Just a slight change of plan. 

You looked at him and smiled before hooking your leg around his and pulling it out from under him, grabbing the wrist of the hand that held the knife as he collapsed to the ground. You twisted it and he dropped the knife, crying out as you kept twisting until the bones snapped. You snatched the knife out of the air and spun it in your hand until your grip was right. 

Everything happened quickly then, the man holding the woman by the throat dropping her to lunge for you. You sidestepped him and used the butt of the knife to hit his temple as he passed you, knocking him off balance. 

“Run!” You yelled to her. She didn’t need to be told twice, taking off. You positioned yourself between her attackers and her escape route, vibroknife in hand in front of you, blade out toward them. 

“Fucking bitch!” The one you’d hit in the temple swore, clutching his head. 

“Warned you,” you shrugged, waiting for their next move, stolen knife at the ready. The one whose wrist you’d broken was still on the ground, clutching his injured arm. One down. 

You were about to go for the one with the blaster when the final one - the one you hadn’t truly assessed - pulled something from his side and extended it before igniting it. An electrostaff. Shit. You hadn’t planned for that. 

You went for the one you’d hit in the temple first, feigning a low strike and instead punching him hard in the face with the hand that held the vibroknife, both the pain and force of the punch amplified by the metal in your hands. He crumpled to the ground, so the hand injury was at least worth it. The staff wielder swung for you and you barely managed to dodge it, ducking below his swing that was a bit too high for someone of your size, anyway. At least he seemed like a rudimentary user. 

The blaster draw you only caught by luck, a brief flash of metal out of the corner of your eye as a light a few floors above you flickered to life. You dove just as he got off a shot, tucking and rolling to jump back to your feet and come up alongside the shooter. You gave him a glancing strike with the vibroknife - enough to need bacta but not so much that it would kill him. He clutched his weapon tighter but fell to his knees with a strangled moan, the ragged gash at his side gushing blood.

You watched him for a second too long, making sure he wasn’t going to try to pull another shot off when you barely saw the electrostaff swinging in your direction. You tried to twist away but it was too close to fully dodge and the weapon made contact, glancing off your ribs. You clenched your teeth and fought to stay standing. This, in comparison to what you’d suffered in the past, was nothing. But it had been years since you’d last had a real fight and the blow knocked the wind out of you. You spun and backed away, just outside of his threat radius, vibroknife at the ready. The distinctive smell of burning flesh reached your nose, turning your stomach. 

“Should have stayed out of it, baby girl,” the only man left standing smirked at you. “But since you were so eager to bail out your friend the whore, maybe we’ll just take you home instead.” 

“You can try,” you shrugged, getting a firmer grip on the knife. The man with the blaster started to move, looking like he might try to shoot you again. With barely a glance, you kicked where you’d cut him before and he instinctively dropped the blaster with a wail as he went to clutch his side. You kicked the weapon behind you, hearing it clatter into the side of the building. “Don’t like your odds, though.” 

With a snarling yell, the last man standing lunged for you and your body reacted, every ounce of training you’d ever had rising to the surface. Adrenaline took over, the pain from the blow fading until you forgot it completely. His movements seemed almost slow and you sidestepped him, slamming your shoulder into his diaphragm as you ducked below his arm. The electro staff buzzed near you and you twisted again to dodge it as he brought it back around, aiming to catch you with a second pass. 

He spun and backed away, keeping you in his line of sight and panting for breath, smirking slightly. “Good,” he said, eyes raking over your body. “It’s more fun when you fight.”

“You know,” you said, eyes narrowing. “Just for that, I think I’m going to kill you.” 

He went for you again. He had tells, you’d quickly learned. His training was rudimentary, he couldn’t hide his plans for shit. You dodged him easily this time, bringing the knife down on his arm as you moved to avoid him. Your angle wasn’t quite good enough to take the whole limb off, even with the vibroknife, but it still did some damage as you heard his pained, enraged scream. He recovered quicker than you expected, swinging the weapon down as you turned to face him again, the electric current caching on your back, burning and cutting as it went. He smiled defiantly, ragged flesh hanging from his injured arm. You wondered what your back looked like as you adjusted your grip on the vibroknife again, looking him up and down. 

Before he had the chance to strike first yet again, you lunged. He wasn’t anticipating your movements, putting him behind already, but he fell even more behind when he didn’t realize that you weren’t going for his head, heart or even stomach. No, you went low, bringing the blade around to the back of his ankle as you twisted around his body and severed the tendon there, forcing him to collapse, unable to hold himself up. His hands instinctively flew out to catch himself, one releasing the electrostaff entirely. In one fluid motion, you took advantage of his weakness and snatched it away from him, throwing it at the wall near the blaster before grabbing him by the hair, bringing your knife around his shoulders to put the blade to his throat. 

“What did you call me before?” You panted for breath. “Baby girl, was it?” 

“Please,” he whimpered, all his cockiness gone. “Please don’t kill me…” 

“Why shouldn’t I?” You asked, pressing your lips against his ear as though you were a lover. “Give me a reason why I should let you live. You’re a rapist, right? Is that what you were trying to do to that woman before? I should kill you and all your little friends, leave you to rot here…” 

“No,” he was crying. “Please, we just… she wouldn’t give us the rate we wanted…” 

“So you decided to take what you wanted, is that it?” You asked, pressing the knife into him lightly, holding the back of his body tightly to the front of yours. 

“Please,” he said again. “My mom…” 

“Should be ashamed to have you as a son,” you said. “She’d be better off without you, we all would. You’re wasting my time, baby boy.” 

“She’s sick,” he said quickly. “Please, she needs me, I promise I won’t hurt anyone ever again, I promise…” 

“Where’s your identification,” you asked, still holding your knife to his throat. 

“Back pocket,” he said quickly. You took he knife away from his throat before bringing it down to his intact ankle and severing the tendon there, too. He shrieked and you let his limp body fall forward before reaching into his pocket. The ID looked legitimate. 

“OK Chellen,” you said, reading the name off the ID, moving to squat beside his head as he lay on the ground, crying in front of you. “I’m keeping that. I hear one word of you getting into trouble - if you even fucking shoplift - I will come back and I will kill you. I don’t care where in the galaxy I am, I will be on you like flies on bantha shit, do you understand me?” 

“Yes,” he sobbed. 

“Good,” you straightened up and went to pick up the electrostaff, examining it for a moment before turning it off and collapsing it down. “And I’m taking this. You don’t deserve it.” 

You turned to leave the alley before taking one last look back down at the destruction in your wake. 

“Behave, Chellen,” you said. “I’ll be watching.” 

With that, you started off back to the Razor Crest. 

It wasn’t a terribly long walk considering the size of the city - only about an hour - but about 15 minutes in, the adrenaline from the fight wore off and the pain took over. It damn near took you down, the screaming agony at your back and side. You hesitantly reached back and delicately touched the torn flesh and then examined your fingers. They were wet with blood and your burns were already weeping. You forced yourself to keep going, you couldn’t just collapse in the street in a city where you knew all of one person - and even he’d be fine if you dropped dead. 

When you made it to the ship, you barely trudged up the ramp before you collapsed, laying face down on the floor of the hold while the ramp closed behind you. Normally, you enjoyed the fresh air when you were on world, luxuriating in something that wasn’t filtered and recirculated hundreds of times. Now, you needed the safety a closed and locked ship provided. 

You may have passed out but you couldn’t be sure. There wasn’t a good way to track time. But eventually, you forced yourself to your feet, your legs shaky, and you stumbled to the galley where you’d stashed the medical supplies. 

Bacta cost an arm and a leg and it belonged to the Mandalorian, so you just looked longingly at the pads there before sighing and finding disinfectant, gauze, glue and thread. You grabbed water and a ration pack, too, chugging the liquid and taking a few bites of the food. You had to do this without collapsing or you wouldn’t get through it. 

Back in the hold, you positioned yourself in front of the reflective crate you usually reserved for hair braiding, your injured side facing the shiny surface. You delicately adjusted your ragged shirt and inspected the injury, blood still oozing from the wound that was charred at the edges but frustratingly uncauterized. You poured some disinfectant on the gauze, took a deep breath, and pressed it into the gash, hissing as it burned. 

“Fucking Maker,” you cursed, forcing yourself to hurt as you cleaned the wound. The last time you’d gotten hurt was far worse, but you’d been unconscious for the patching up. At least no one else was having to stitch you up this time. 

Though speaking of stitches… you sighed, threading the needle and throughly covering it and the thread in disinfectant. You took your own knife - not the one you’d just stolen and had no idea where it had been - and put it between your teeth, biting down on the leather-wrapped handle. After moving in close to the reflective crate, you took a deep breath and pierced your flesh with the needle, howling against the knife handle as you did. You pulled the thread through and pierced the other side before tugging it together, holding the wound closed. You repeated the process 20 times, dripping sweat and vocal cords aching from screaming. You’d been making enough noise, the pain a loud enough roar in your body, that you hadn’t heard the hatch open on the ship. 

***

He hadn’t anticipated screaming when he came aboard his ship. 

Din had been hunting for a while, tracking someone in an urban landscape like Hosnian Prime the kind of challenge he thrived on, but he was happy it was over. He needed more than an hour or two’s sleep at a time, a chance to let his mind relax after being on high alert for weeks. But when he heard your muffled screams from inside the hold, he’d run inside before the ramp had fully lowered, dragging his quarry behind him. He cuffed the still defiant man just inside the gate, slamming the button to close it as he spotted blood on the floor in a small pool, with a trail leading to the galley. 

“Sounds like your friend’s having a bad day, Mando,” the quarry laughed. Din ignored him, flipping on his heat sensor. He didn’t have time to try to find whatever hole you’d hidden yourself in, he needed to locate you now. He spotted your heat signature immediately and ran but he froze when he saw you. Your back was to him as you twisted to see your work in the mirror but you were in obvious agony, your face contorted in agony and a knife clenched between your teeth as you sewed a charred gash at your side closed. There was a second, longer, deeper cut that ran up your spine, your shredded shirt exposing the damage. You were so absorbed in your work and overwhelmed by the pain, you hadn’t noticed him standing there. He approached hesitantly, kneeling behind you and gingerly taking the hand holding the needle. Your head spun to face him, your face red and wet as you panted for breath around the knife in your teeth. 

“I’ve got it,” he said gently. “I’ll finish it, I’ve got it, OK?” 

You nodded, choking on your tears. You let him take the needle and do the final two stitches. He winced as he did. The wound was bad, jagged and deep and stitching burned flesh closed was a whole other level of pain. He wanted to take some of it from you. Even through his gloved hand, he could feel your exhaustion, how your body shook with the pain. He finished the stitch and cut it, arranging himself so he was on his knees in front of you. 

“It’s done,” he said quietly, gently removing the knife from your mouth. He glanced down at the handle. You’d almost bitten clean through the leather. 

“There’s more,” you said, fighting to swallow tears. “But…” 

“I know, it’s OK,” his voice was slow and soothing. A gloved hand went to your shoulder, gently guiding you forward and you collapsed against him, your head on the cool metal of his shoulder as your body trembled. “You can give it to me, it’s OK.” 

His hands stayed on your head and neck and shoulders. He told himself he was touching you to ground you and calm you but he knew it was as much for himself as it was for you.

“Who did this?” He asked as your shaking slowed. He fought to keep his voice gentle. “Tell me where to find them and I’ll kill them.” 

“You don’t need to,” you sniffled into his shoulder, voice shaky. “They’re in worse shape than me.” 

“They?” He asked, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands on you. You nodded, drying your eyes. 

“There were four of them,” you said. “Trying to hurt a woman, she was scared…” 

“So you got them to attack you instead?” Below the helmet, he was frowning. 

“Something like that,” you laughed a little, then winced. “But if you want an electrostaff, it’s all yours. I’m keeping the vibroknife.” 

He examined you for a moment, taking stock of what he could see of your body from this angle. He realized that he’d never really seen much of your flesh, just hints of your shape. You were small with gentle curves, nothing that would indicate strength or skill as a fighter. But you were clearly experienced if you’d walked away from a fight where you were outnumbered four to one with relatively little damage. 

“What did you do to get their weapons?” He asked, trying to keep you talking. He wanted to keep you conscious, push through the shock phase. 

“The knife was easy,” you shrugged. “He was an idiot, so I took out his leg, broke his wrist, caught the knife.” 

Mando nodded slowly. Hand to hand combat - not what he’d have expected of you. 

“Staff was trickier,” you said, blinking the tears from your eyes. “He wasn’t well trained but he had some knowledge and plenty of reach on me. Ended up taking him out at the ankles, cut the tendons. Took his identification, told him I’d kill him if he so much as breathed wrong in the future.” 

Din smiled beneath the helmet, impressed in spite of himself. You turned your face to the ceiling, blinking back the last of your tears, your breathing returning to a more normal rate. 

“Where’s your quarry?” You frowned, looking back to Din. “Didn’t come back just for me, did you?” 

“Cuffed by the door,” he said gruffly. “I need to get him… settled. Once I’m done, we’ll move you to my quarters, I’ll get your back fixed up.” 

You nodded, wrapping your arms around your waist as Din went to retrieve the bounty he’d locked by the entry. 

“Someone obviously couldn’t handle themselves,” the man taunted. “Didn’t think a Mandalorian would keep such weak company…” 

“It’d be smart to watch what you say,” Mando said, pushing him forward with enough force that the man stumbled a few steps. “There are plenty of ways I could mess up carbonite storage.” 

It didn’t occur to Din to have you move from where he’d left you on the floor until the quarry caught sight of you on the way to the carbonite chamber. 

“I see the appeal now, Mando. Nice to have something good and tight waiting at home,” the man focused on your body at first, leering, before he reached your face and stopped in his tracks. “Oh ho! Would you look at who we have here.” 

You glared at him, defiant. He twisted to look at Din. 

“Do you have any idea who your little friend is, Mando?” He asked. 

“I’m just cargo,” you snapped, sitting up a little straighter and wincing as you did. 

“Oh you’re valuable cargo indeed,” he looked at you like you were meal and he was salivating before turning back toward the bounty hunter. “You have no idea, do you?”

“Shut up,” you hissed. 

“We could sell her,” he ignored you. “I know people who would pay so much for her it would make your head spin. We could split it. Hell, I’ll even pay what you’d make from my bounty out of my portion and still walk away a rich man…” 

“Shut up!” You got to your feet with surprising dexterity, considering the gaping wound on your back. You grabbed your new vibroknife and nearly ran for the man, pressing the blade to his throat. “Or I will make you shut up.”

“Someone knows when she’s in hot water,” he smirked at you. “I’m telling you, Mando. We’re men of business, you and I, and you’re sitting on the opportunity of a lifetime.” 

There was genuine fear in your eyes when you pulled your glare from the quarry and looked at him. You were afraid the Mandalorian would surrender you to this man’s allies for the payout, afraid of what they’d do to you if they had you. 

“I don’t work with Imperial bounties,” Mando said simply, taking a guess at just who might want you. The man’s reaction proved him right. So you weren’t Imperial after all. Or, at least, you’d fallen out of favor. He shoved the man forward toward the carbonite chamber, leaning in close and lowering his voice in hopes that you wouldn’t hear. “Your bounty holder only needs what’s in your head. They said nothing about bringing the rest of you in intact.” 

The quarry fell silent and he worked quickly to secure him in carbonite before finding you again. You were still standing, slumped against the crate you’d been using as a mirror, eyes closed. Blood dripped down your back but your breathing was steady and unhurried, a good sign. 

“We don’t have time of find a medic,” he said. It was almost like you’d forgotten he was on the ship with you, your head whipping around toward him when he spoke like you were surprised to find him there. “But I can do it.” 

“I don’t need a medic,” you said. Your voice was weaker than he liked. “I’ve had worse. It’s fine, I…” You sighed, wincing. “Well, don’t trust you but. Close enough.” 

He put a hand at the top of your back, above the wound, and you pressed yourself into his side. He took your weight, wishing he could just pick you up and carry you the way you clearly needed but that would just aggravate what was already a devastating wound. You moved as quickly as you could to his quarters and he helped you onto the bed, laying you out flat on your stomach. He increased the light and started examining you, looking closely at the wound. He could see part of your spine through the cut, exposing your nerves and bone. It was amazing you’d stayed conscious. 

“I’m going to cut the rest of your shirt,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. He wasn’t used to looking at anyone’s wounds besides his own. “Make sure we’re not contaminating the field any more.” 

“OK,” you said quietly. Your arms were folded under your head like a pillow, your face turned out to watch him. He cut the shirt and exposed the rest of your back before gently examining the cut. He frowned, a small sigh picked up by the modulator. “What?” You asked. He saw some of your body tense. 

“There’s some tissue that I think I’ll need to cut away,” he said. “There’s no saving it and…” 

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, looking up at him. “You don’t need to tell me it all, it’s fine. Just give me something to bite so I don’t scream your ship down. And once you start, just finish it. Keep going so I don’t have to do this again.”  

He gave you a stiff nod, grabbing a spare holster from his bedside and putting it between your teeth before he started working. He cleaned the area first, monitoring your breathing to make sure you weren’t going to pass out as you worked through the pain. When he moved on to disinfecting the area and the tools, the panting turned to moans which turned to screams as he cut away the skin that had been exposed to enough electricity that it was dead, already blackened and threatening to rot. He glanced up at your face and saw your hands, nails digging into your arms so hard that you were drawing blood. You were drenched in sweat and tears, teeth clinging to the holster, searching for some kind of outlet for the pain. 

“Here,” he took your hand gently and delicately pulled it out from below your head, glancing at the bloody crescent shaped marks on your skin. He put it on his leg, over his flight suit where there was no armor to protect him. “Give it to me. I can take it. I’m going to start sewing now, just give it to me.” 

You nodded and he started stitching you up. You didn’t hesitate to dig into his thigh as you screamed, strong enough that he was constantly aware of your grip but not so much that it distracted him from his work. He was nearly done, having lost count around 40 stitches or so, when your grip suddenly went lax and the screaming stopped. 

“Hey,” he dropped the needle, ripping his glove off and searching for the pulse point on your neck. “Come on, stay with me…” 

He found your pulse, weak but there, and put his other hand in the middle of your back until he was sure he felt your chest rising and falling. You were alive, at least. He quickly finished closing the wound and put gauze over it, leaving you unconscious in the bunk. 

Din went to where he kept the medical supplies, wondering if there were any salves or something left that might ease the pain or speed the healing. But if you hadn’t been able to find bacta here, there might not be much else. He made a plan to take a side trip to Coruscant on his way to the next bounty and find bacta, there should be some there even if there was a shortage that kept it from getting to Hosnian Prime. If he jumped, it would probably be fast enough to keep you from much scarring…

But when he opened the medkit, he froze. There were bacta patches inside, at the top. More than a dozen of them, plenty to have covered your injuries and still had a reasonable stock for the ship. You hadn’t used it. 

He stared at it for a second, like there was a connection missing in his mind. He’d seen you using a needle and thread, heard your agony, why would you have put yourself through that when there was bacta right next to the stock of disinfectant and gauze you’d obviously grabbed? He’d just assumed you hadn’t found any and he’d known that there was almost none left before this stop… The rations. He’d never told you that you could use the bacta, or anything else, just like he’d never told you you could eat.

“I… well, I don’t trust you but. Close enough.” Your words echoed in his mind, alongside the look on your face when the quarry mentioned the high price you’d fetch if taken to the right Imperials. You didn’t act like it but you were scared of the Mandalorian. Afraid that you’d do the wrong thing and he’d do away with you, afraid enough that you’d rather torture yourself and risk infection or death rather than chance using some bacta. The safer bet was suffering. He looked toward his quarters. He knew what it was like to be alone but he’d always had other Mandalorians he could trust and call upon if needed. You, it seemed, had no one. 

He took a few bacta pads and returned to his quarters. You were still unconscious, your breathing shallow but steady. He opened the pads and gently pressed them to your body, covering every inch of your wounds. He got a damp cloth and wiped away your sweat and tears. As his hand ranged over your back, he noticed the tell-tale signs of past injuries that had been healed with bacta before. Your skin was smooth, no raised scarring, but small variations in the color betrayed your earlier wounds. He couldn’t see all of you but it was clear that, at some point, you’d been nearly torn apart. 

“I’ve had worse,” you’d said. “It’s fine.” 

You were a person who was on the run from Tatooine, enough that you were changing your name. You held your own in a fight where you were outnumbered and out gunned. You were able to sew yourself back together to survive. You were wanted so badly by the remaining Imperials that they were willing to pay a high price - high enough for half the amount to pay off an already hefty bounty. 

Who the fuck was on his ship? 

[hellfireloserclub]

Sandworms, loopholes and questionable sandwiches.

A trip to the lake with the kids and Eddie shouldn't be so confusing. If the kids would just give Steve five seconds to think he would be able to get his head straight. ( Straight? Oh how that ship had sailed) Inviting Eddie to come join them on a few days away had just been step one on Steve's plan. Step two had been to get Eddie alone. Step three was... a work in progress. Listen, Steve might have learned a thing or two about himself while he was off visiting Robin at college, that didn't mean he knew what he was doing. He just hoped he still had a friend in Eddie after he worked it all out. He's just got to survive being the responsible adult for a few days first.

My @steddiesummerexchange fic is out in the world @aaliona I hope you like it.

Read it on Ao3 Here

............

sneak peak

.............

“Henderson. I swear to god, if you don’t choose a spot, I’m throwing everything in the lake.” 

Eddie wasn’t joking. 

Since they pulled up to the campsite, all he seemed to have done was listen to Dustin and Mike squabble about where was best to set up the tents. 

Apparently there was a science to it.

Eddie was pretty sure the fact that there were actual spots marked in the undergrowth was a good enough sign a perfect site already existed, but what did he know? 

He watched as Dustin placed a hand on the trunk of a tree, feeling the moss under his fingers. He was about to spout some more Henderson bullshit that he probably learned at that nerd camp of his, and frankly Eddie wasn’t in the mood for it. Not after a three-hour road trip with a van full of teenage boys and broken air con. 

Dropping the pile of canvas he was carrying unceremoniously and turning heel, he ignored the shouts of protest behind him. 

Yet here he was signing up to torture himself, sleeping on the floor and being bitten by every bug in a hundred-mile radius. The things he did for Steve Harrington. 

His side twinged, but he shook it off. Physical activity after sitting still for the drive now pulling at old hurts. 

Two years may have passed but the skin grafts still pulled if he tried to do too much. 

He knew Dustin would never forget that day, but sometimes the little numbskull forgot that Eddie’s thick skin was only metaphorical these days.

He wasn’t exactly a fan of physical activity before he became bat chow, but after? 

One wrong move and he was stuck walking with even more of a limp than usual, if he overdid it, he was looking at bare minimum two days to recover. 

It really was a beautiful sight. The lake wasn’t half bad either. 

The man in question was currently lugging a canoe down to the lake edge with Lucas. 

Eddie had been sure the sight of a boat and a lake would fill him with fear after the events of spring break, but the sight of Steve easily dragging the banana yellow canoe? 

That was making his heart race alright. But that was probably more to do with the way Steve’s muscles stretched under the sinfully tight shirt - and less to do with under worldly eldritch horrors.

“Should you be perving on your babysitter?” Eddie asked  as he nudged Baby Byers with his hip, both watching Steve and Lucas drop their cargo on the lakeside. Stupid dumb jocks weren’t even breaking a sweat. 

Reaching the makeshift base camp, Will wordlessly handed him a Coke from the cooler. 

The younger man’s eyes firmly planted in the same direction as Eddie’s gaze. 

Evidently Eddie was not the only one enjoying the show. 

To Will’s credit he didn’t blush, he just shrugged and hid his coy smile behind his bottle. 

Even so. Will didn’t have to call him out about it.

“At least I’m being subtle. You’re almost drooling.” He said. 

Will was coming into his own since he had come out to the party at the beginning of 87. 

In that time his confidence had grown tenfold and with it so had his cheek. 

Oh, he was still charming and sweet, but my god did he have an antagonistic streak a mile wide. 

Everyone joked Dustin was Eddie and Steve’s kid. But in Eddie’s opinion if you wanted the perfect mix Will the wise was your answer. He had Steve’s bitchy streak and no tolerance for bullshit and Eddie’s theatrics and imagination.

Unfortunately, that also meant that he could read Eddie like a book, and had latched on to the fact that Eddie was well and truly neck deep in confusion over how he felt about the aforementioned babysitter.

“Take it off!” 

Silently they watched as Steve and Lucas made more trips to the back of Steve’s borrowed van.

The background squabbling from Mike and Dustin barely dampened the beauty of the lake where it stretched out as far as the eye could see. 

This was the closest thing to the ocean Eddie had seen with his own eyes. 

Maybe one day he and Steve would take Argyle and Jon up on the offer of going to visit them in Cali. Get to see the real thing.  

But for now the massive lake and sandy shore in the blistering sun would have to do. 

Finally, Steve showed weakness to the sweltering heat. Watching Steve wipe the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his shirt should not be making Eddie feel like he was about to combust. 

Eddie felt like he was melting. 

He was going to blame the heat on his heart attack. Not the vision in khaki flashing his midriff like some two bit wench. 

But now she seemed to have gotten bored with telling Mike what to do and had moved on to observing the floor show down on the lake. At Max’s outburst, Lucas pointed to himself grinning. 

Eddie had completely forgotten there was anyone else about. 

Max yelling from the rocks almost made him drop his soda. 

She had been micromanaging the site’s setup since she still wasn’t a hundred percent on her feet yet without her cane. 

“Come on Steve, don’t leave us hanging.” Max yelled, shit-eating grin and eyebrow waggle in the lake's general direction. 

“Mayfield, you are a child.” Eddie reprimanded, not that Max ever listened to anything he had to say. She flipped him off as El laughed hysterically into her shoulder.  

Lucas deflated slightly and Steve dropped his t-shirt back in place, shaking his head and muttering something to the other boy so low that nobody else could hear it. 

“Don’t hate me cause you ain’t me Munson.” She mocked sliding the sunglasses she had dropped to the end of her nose back into place now her ogling of Steve had been fulfilled. 

“Your boyfriend is right there?” Eddie pointed out raising his soda to Lucas in a ‘bro solidarity‘ shrug. 

“I can window shop. If Steve didn't want to be ogled at, he wouldn't be putting on a show. You telling me you and him don’t do exactly the same when you’re on a night out?” Max waved him off, turning her attention back to Steve who was now doing his best not to look back up to the campsite. His face flushed pretty as he arranged the canoe on the bank.

“Are you telling me you aren't buying what he’s selling?” Max asked between laughs.

Eddie tried to defend his and Steve's honor, but all that came out was a garbled cut of noise. Beside him Will sniggered. 

“Oh, don’t you start.” He grumbled. 

[beautifulchris]

fate brought us together again — 21. go get your man

⤷ pairing: bang chan x gn!reader

⤷ synopsis: after spending two years abroad, you come back to the only college that accepted you; the same chris goes to

⤷ genre: smau, college!au, exes to lovers!au, fluff, angst, humor, romance, drama

⤷ tw: swearing, mention of vomit, suggestive

⤷ wc: 0,4k under the cut

two hours later, you were still in the studio with chris. you talked, laughed, shared stories from the last couple years you spent apart. you were getting used to each other again and it was blowing your mind how natural it felt.

it was almost like you left yesterday.

“there's something you should know.”

chris quirked his eyebrows. “I’m all ears.”

“angel —the person minho and hyunjin know— is me. I’m sorry I haven't told you before.”

“you're angel?”

you nodded. “during my trip to france, I got the nickname and it stuck.”

he stared at you for a minute, while the gears in his mind connected the dots. “it explains why you asked how I knew when I used it. why didn't you say anything?”

“we weren't on best terms at the time and I guess I was scared to make you mad at me like changbin was.”

“y/n, you know me.”

“yes, you wouldn't be mad.”

“exactly.”

“like I said, I got scared. you could've changed while I was gone.”

“I did change, but everything about you stayed the same.”

the little confession made your heart beat faster and you hid your face behind your hands. “chris!” you whined, “don’t say stuff like that, please. I can't handle it.”

he laughed, a beautiful sound, and placed his hands on your wrists. “please don’t hide from me angel,” he asked, caressing your wrists with his thumbs. “you’re too beautiful to stay hidden.”

you couldn't stop the giggle from leaving your lips. that was how he had always been with you. flirty and sweet. you shook your head and inhaled as you straightened up.

“you’re so understanding chris, thank you.”

he just smiled contently, gazing at your eyes. then his eyes widened.

“oh, I have a song for you,” he said, turning to his laptop. “I wrote it after you came back and finished it yesterday.”

he clicked a few times on the screen, then a sweet melody came out of the speakers. concentrating on the lyrics, you missed the look chris was giving you. anticipation and adoration were visible on his face.

when it was over, you looked up at him and smiled sweetly. “chris… I love it. I love you. wait I mean— ah, I didn't mean to say it now.”

his face lit up and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. “don't apologize, I love you too, y/n. more than words could describe. you’re my muse.”

you hugged him back and closed your eyes, taking in the feeling of having him so close to your heart.

“thank you for giving me another chance,” he whispered in your ear.

“I should be the one saying that, love.”

“I guess I beat you to it, then,” he smiled fondly.

chapter 20 | masterlist | chapter 22

notes: the song in question is about love by marina! chris is such a sweet talker 👊🏼

taglist: @soobin-chois @exfolitae @linos-catnip @raethethey @q1sng @kangyounghyunhands @whyyougottadothatbro @amaranth-writing @nattisbored @adestayskz @rag-iii @liashinmenu @soulphoenix1618 @fangeekkk @borahae-reads @minhwa @jihanniee @misosick @jia-qian @sachisarkive @makayluvsaisans @skz-streamer open!

[mischiefmaker615]

Ghost (Loki Love Story) Ch.15

Arrival at the tower went better than expected.. considering the circumstances. Most members were out on long term assignments, so it only left Bruce, Tony and Steve, and Natasha. They greeted you with cheer, as did you to see your old comrades again- before you had left to pay attention more to New Asgard. Tony was already at the bar when you all arrived, Steve sticking close to your side as if you had your own personal body guard.

Loki, however wasn’t exactly greeted with the same happiness as Bruce and Natasha stiffened, as if he had done something wrong. Which.. New York yes, but that was years ago. Upon coming back to life, you think you’d have a do over right?- assuming he won’t try taking over again. They made it seem like he would and gave him a nod with their eyes practically studying him.

‘’well lets not all stiffen up, Loki’s been a huge help when I had an injured arm, I’m sure he’ll be plenty of help around here’’ you tried lightening the mood with a smile, Natasha looking back at you with narrowed eyes.

‘’I suppose due to the circumstances.. two spare rooms won’t be needed?’’ it wasn’t much of a question but Nat almost seemed to hide disgust at the thought of you and him sharing a bed.

‘’it would be physically impossible right now, I appreciate you all helping to prepare. We’ll get settled and I’ll show him around..’’ you declare, wanting to get out of the thick vibe growing in the room as Bruce avoided eye contact with Loki, as if making little eye contact would piss him off to Hulk-out.

With that, you took Loki’s hand and pulled him along to prevent just that. ‘’we’ll be around, thank you-‘’

Loki followed you towards the hall, sending Steve a smirk over his shoulder before he turned his attention back to you as you led him by the hand. ‘’with your quick wish to leave the room and to the spares, one would assume you are eager to-‘’

‘’they can assume all they want, you’ll just have to ignore them while they adjust to your presence.’’ You said dryly, keeping your eyes forward as you clutched still at his hand. ‘’they didn’t have to be so cold towards you-‘’

‘’a not so surprising reaction from them darling, the only presence I care about being around, is yours. I suppose this curse of ours could be seen as a blessing’’ he winked and your cheeks reddened as you stopped at the elevator and pressed the button.

‘’..don’t you.. care about independence?’’ you asked without really thinking much into it while your mouth beat your brain. ‘’you aren’t bothered by being stuck like this? Surely you’d want some privacy-‘’

‘’I’m stuck with the utmost glorious woman I have laid eyes on, which speaks volumes because I have literally been in the presence of goddesses.’’ He lightly teased, a hand at the small of your back at he led you first into the elevator before he joined your side. ‘’I have high feelings for you Y/N,.. I’m not saying we need to rush into anything because we’ve kisses but.. even if we weren’t stuck together, I most likely would have been finding myself at your side the entire time anyway..’’ he confessed and you hesitantly clicked the button for your floor.

Cheeks red, you glance over at him while you rubbed your arm shyly. ‘’your very poetic when you speak’’

Loki gave a hard laugh as the elevator began rising, taking hold of your hand in his as he brought your knuckled up to his lips with a grin. ‘’and I also enjoy doting on you darling. Request it and I shall do my utmost ability to get it done if it is to please you. I’ve spent to much of my life feeling alone..’’ his smile faded ever so slightly at the sudden confession, moving his eyes forward now once the elevator stopped. ‘’..i do not wish the chance to feel that again.’’

Your eyes traveled down, knowing you would never abandon him, but having the pressure of possibly having him fall back into his upbringing trauma was difficult to think on. You stayed silent the rest of the way, leading him down a few halls before you stopped at a door.

‘’..this was always mine when I occasionally stayed here, it should be spacious enough’’

‘’I think I prefer less spacious.’’ Loki smirked and you lightly shook your head with an eye roll while you opened the door.

The sight had you stop in your tracks, a light gasp leaving your lips as you took in the room. It was almost exactly the way you left it! It wasn’t terribly long since you’ve been here, but you knew there should be a good amount of dust on the surface. Running a finger across the desk, there was none. Your weapons were still mounted on the wall, your sheets and blankets seemed to have been washed and a few trinkets here and there, amongst your books were organized and accounted for.

‘’I kept everything the same encase you returned..’’

The voice behind you both got you turning, Loki making eye contact before he rolled them with a distasteful groan. ‘’can we not have a moments piece Rogers?”

‘’I gotta make sure the settling in part is.. settled.’’ Steve says dryly, his tone dramatically changing when he looks over at you. ‘’I’ve only added a few other essentials, though I know you brought some from home. Apparently, Tony is throwing a party tonight to celebrate your arrival.’’

‘’he throws parties practically every night.’’ You sigh.

‘’I know, but he says he’ll be keeping it small, pretty much just all of us.’’ Steve shrugged, keeping himself leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed.

‘’yes yes we’ll be there, is that all?’’ Loki waves off as his body noticeably stiffens by his very presence, taking a hold of your hand while Steve’s eyes flick down to it before back at yours.

‘’we’ll be around if you need anything.’’

‘’of course, thank you and..’’ you waved around the room with a content smile at feeling a bit more at home. ‘’..thank you.’’

‘’your welco-‘’ the door closed on it’s own with a mild slam, making you quickly turn to catch the brief flash of green in Loki’s eyes.

‘’you really need to lighten up.’’ You warn, knowing he had used magic to slam the door.

‘’I will not light up darling.’’ Loki said, awkward at the Midgardian terms as he almost says it with distaste. ‘’he’s only trying to ward you away from me.’’

‘’I’m yours?” you asked carefully, your eyes falling down at the grip on his hand tightens ever so slightly.

‘’we’re soul mates Y/N-‘’

‘’Loki.. I won’t be destiny’s puppet.. we know it but it doesn’t mean we need to follow it just because we got a bit of a.. spoiler alert through magic. We could do whatever we want with this information not everyone gets the chance to get, to rewrite-‘’

‘’I don’t wish to rewrite anything darling, nor is it possible to change it.’’ He cut you off, seeming to remind you how tall he was as he faced you with barely a step apart. ‘’surely I’m sure you have learned from the Midgardian films; what future cannot be changed. If you so much as try to adjust things, most likely doing so it what will make it happen anyway.’’ He said and placed a finger at your chin, a shiver running down your spine as he tilted your head up so you were paying closer attention.

‘’like it or not Y/N, you cant get rid of me.’’

‘’like a cockroach.’’

The voice had both your eyes move to the door as Tony’s voice stayed muffled behind it.

‘’hard to kill, hard to get rid of.’’

‘’is privacy going to be a constant issue around-‘’ Loki fumed as he made for the door but in a huff, ready to practically break it open to probably kill Stark before he was suddenly teleported back, ramming into you as you both stumbled and fell onto the bed, Loki on top while the door opened itself.

‘’usually there’s a lot less dialog when your doing it Reindeer Games’’ Tony noted casually as he leaned against the door frame.

Your cheeks heated up, Loki’s hands on either side of your head while yours spread out above it. His body struggled to hold itself above yours, slight strain barely shaking the mattress as he fought not to lower himself in that instant but what could be felt was his erection, causing his own cheeks to redden upon his realization.

‘’Stark, you have about two seconds to tell me what business you have here before I make a perfectly good reason for you heroes to call SHIELD and get me-‘’ Loki gritted out, pushing himself off the bed- as much as he would have loved to stay and turned to glare at him. his anger mildly defused with a smirk when Tony poorly hid his reaction at seeing how much he was.. packing.

‘’so I lied, I may have invited a bit more people than just us but I figured since you just got here and still may need a few things, Pepper said you could help yourself to her wardrobe.’’ Tony explained quickly, his eyes staying on Y/N as you sat yourself up awkwardly with still a light hue on your cheeks.

‘’thank you-‘’

‘’no need Stark. I have it handled.’’ Loki snapped, raising your curiosity you would note later as Tony smirked.

‘’why? Want the dresses all to yourself?’’

‘’I’m absolutely sure you wouldn’t wish to be thrown from that window a second time-‘’ Loki snapped, a step towards him having you grasp his arm so you both wouldn’t get teleported again.

‘’thank you Tony, we’ll be getting ready and see you out there.’’

‘’cool’’ Tony smiled with a small wave, clearly less annoying with you than with any interactions with Loki as he headed off, leaving the door open as you sighed.

‘’how long will we be stuck here?’’ Loki groaned and laid back on the bed, his arms spread out to his sides as he looked thoroughly annoyed.

‘’just until we figure this thing out.’’ you said gently as you sat beside him.

Upon feeling your presence beside him, he moved a hand to rest on your thigh, his thumb stroking as if you were his own personal stress reliever. ‘’or, we could just stay stuck together and go back to your place like none of this ever happened..’’

You gave him a gentle look, a look of hesitation that seemed to speak for you that you were still unsure of your decision.

Loki sighed and patted your leg, giving you a silent okay fine before he sat up. ‘’alright darling, I suppose we should get ready for this not-so-rare event Stark is hosting. I think I shall have the perfect remedy for your outfit.’’ He smirked, as if the thought alone had lifted his spirts as he stood, taking your hand to pull you up and placed you in the middle of the room.

‘’I have a few things of my own, there’s really no need-‘’

‘’darling, none sense’’ he smiled and began eyeing you up and down while begiving to move around you in circles. ‘’it would up my spirits considering how the beginning of this stay went and I promise to make it stunning.’’ He beamed before his eyes flashed that light, green hue and your skin began to tingle.

Looking down at yourself, you felt your clothes begin to stretch and move, as if he was using that fabric to help with the main ingredient to his magic. With a small flash that had your eyes closed for a moment, you reopened them to find that you were wearing a flood length, skin tight, emerald dress with a gold trim around your waist. The main thing that got your attention was the draft and noticed how much cleavage you were showing, making you hug yourself with your eyes widening.

‘’this is beautiful Loki- but perhaps something less.. fancy?’’ you asked but he knew the fanciness wasn’t your main issue as he tilted his head as if to try to see behind your arms.

‘’darling you look gorgeous-‘’ he encouraged, noticing how he even made it so your back was exposed to not have any discomfort to your wings.

‘’t-thank you but.. perhaps something that matches the occasion..’’ you plead behind your words and he sighed, waving his hand and the process begins all over again as the fabric morphed and revealed you into a more single dress, a black cloth that looked more like a chambermaid would wear at some royal castle.

‘’what’s this?” you raise a brow, it looking plain and simple with a little less cleavage but you covered none the less.

‘’I can’t have gawkers left and right while we attend, it is uncomfortable enough with Roger’s existence here.’’ Loki mumbled, straining his neck to look behind you as your ass and you quickly used your wings to block him.

‘’than what was the first option you formulated??”

Loki’s eyes flicked back to yours and smirked. ‘’that was merely for me.’’

‘’Loki!’’ you almost whined and he placed his hands up in a surrender position. ‘’alright darling, alright. One moment,’’ and with the flick of his wrist, you now wore a black cocktail dress.

It was mid-thigh high, a mild dip but not to much chest tricking out, you noticed your height was different and noticed the gold heels you now wore and a slightly low back just enough for your wings. With a relaxed sigh, you smiled and lowered your arms.

‘’thank you.’’

‘’your welcome darling.’’ He said proudly, his eyes everywhere else but your eyes as you snapped his fingers at him to get his attention before he noticed your growing concern.

‘’you are using your magic to do this.. won’t I be naked if you accidently drop the spell? Let alone exhaust yourself-‘’

‘’darling I assure you, as much of a sight you will be,’’ he smirked before getting serious. ‘’I shall be absolutely fine. There is no effort in such a simple spell so there is nothing to worry about.’’ And with that, he waved a hand over himself and his glow consumed him, revealing himself to be wearing an all-black suit.

Your cheeks reddened as you unknowingly drank him in, a chuckle snapping you out of it as you adverted your eyes and shifted in place. ‘’..you look nice..’’

‘’why thank you darling, I dare say with confidence that we will look like the hottest couple in New York.’’ He said with a grin, having attempted an American accent, not necessarily failing miserably but enough to have you laugh and relax.

‘’stick to your poetic vibes.’’ You tell him with a smile and go over to his side, taking his arm for him to lead you.

‘’very well darling,’’ he grins, his voice almost taking on a purr as he leads you forward.

‘’let us get this over with.’’

Tag List: @violethaze @fire-in-her-veinz

[simpforwebtoonmen]

Meet again || Vasco x Reader

˚✧₊⁎ You meet Vasco at a food stand in front of Club Vivi. The two of you are great friends, best friends even. So why did he disappear for such a long time without telling you anything? ⁎⁺˳✧༚

a/n: the event probably (definitely) won’t be accurate. also, not proof-read.

The food stand was empty. All that was left was sizzling and fresh food and a shirtless man taking care of the stand. He was extremely built, anybody could tell that he worked out, and everybody would assume that he was some kind of gangster due to his tattoos and the facial scar in the shape of an ‘X’ over his right eye- his right. 

And of course, you knew this man was a gangster. You also knew that this man was no man at all, but a boy, a teenager. A boy you knew well. And the same boy that left you behind for a very long time. 

You eyed the skewed food that still sizzled since it was cooked fresh. You weren’t exactly sure if you trusted Vasco’s cooking, but if he was trusted to run a food stall by himself then it’s fine then, right? 

The boy let out a surprised noise, “oh! (name), is that you!?” You hummed and only glared at him. For weeks, you always thought about what you were going to say to him when you saw him again. You planned on cursing him out and maybe (certainly) punching him in the face, not that it’d faze him. 

But now that you’re here, you’re stuck. You have no idea what you should do. Cursing and punching him in front of all these people definitely won’t look good for the owner of this food stand. So, you decided to suck it up and save the tantrum for later. 

“hey, Vasco...” You greeted him unenthusiastically. Vasco hummed in confusion, tilting his head to the side while looking at you with wide curious eyes. “Is something wrong?” he asked. You looked at him with an unimpressed expression, shouldn’t it be obvious why you’re upset? 

Before you could respond to him another customer approached the food stall. He was tall and wore a dark green jacket along with a black cap. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, you could see the scar that ran across his lip. 

You looked away and thought nothing of it. Must’ve been in some kind of accident, right? 

“Huh? Tabasco?” the guy next to you exclaimed. You looked back up at him, surprise and suspicion written all over your face. He knew Vasco, which probably wasn’t good. Vasco had the tendency to get himself into trouble, so this mysterious guy could’ve gotten himself tangled up with Vasco. Not good, not good at all. 

“huh?...Who are you?” Vasco remained unbothered and went back to cooking. The man scoffed, “wait, so you don’t remember me?” “nope.” You nearly laugh at Vasco’s fast retort, but remembered that you’re angry at him and you’re not allowed to laugh at Vasco’s jokes (even though it wasn’t really a joke). 

“You’re a real character man.” 

“Fishcakes are (however much).” 

The man next to you paid for a fishcake. “How do you know Vasco?” you questioned him. He looked surprised to see you, almost like he didn’t even notice you which you tried to ignore to avoid being offended. “Huh? wait is that his name...? Well, Tabas- I mean- Vasco and I used to know each other, but I guess he doesn’t remember me,” the man shrugged and took a bite out of his fishcake. 

You hummed and thought for a moment. You knew Vasco for a very long time, so if he was friends with a man like him then you would’ve known. “Do I know you?” you asked, more so to yourself. He glanced down at you, seemingly trying to remember if he knew you or not. 

It’s been almost a year since Jake, this mysterious man, has ran into Vasco. So if he has met you then it could be that you look so different that he couldn’t recognize you. 

And at the same time both you and Jake shrugged, letting it go. 

“Oh, I’m Vasco by the way,” Vasco continued as if he wasn’t listening to the conversation you and Jake were haven’t (because he wasn’t). “I’m Jane Kim, an aspiring nail artist.” 

Suddenly there was another presence. A girl with pink hair and distant eyes. She sucked on a binky and held one of Vasco’s fishcakes in her hand. She looses balance and tips backwards, but makes no effort to keep herself from falling. The man next to you tried to catch her, but another man beat him to it. 

A man in a black suit, three long braids, a gorgeous face, and was accompanied by a group of men dressed in the same black suit. From what you could tell, they were all body guards, but the man with the long braids was the boss. 

You didn’t understand anything when he spoke to the woman he carried in his arms. You loose interest and turn back to the food stall, taking a fishcake and stuffing it in your mouth, “hey, you’re gonna let me have this for free, right? Since we’re friends and all...” You looked up at Vasco only see him in distraught. “Hm? Vasco, are you okay?” you asked him.  

You reached out to him and put a hand on his bare shoulder, you tried your best to ignore the feeling of his hard muscle under your hand (and resisted the urge to squeeze). 

“T-That girl...didn’t pay...” he muttered, but you heard him. “O-Oh,” you looked around the area, twisting your head from left to right. The girl and her body guards, along with the mysterious man were gone. 

Nervously, you looked back at Vasco. “Haha...seems like they left...maybe they’ll come back later to pay-” 

It was too late. Vasco was already storming off into Club Vivi. You squeaked, “ah! wait, Vasco!” and naturally, you ran after him. 

~

“What’s he making all this ruckus for? It’s just one fishcake,” you muttered to yourself. You sat at one of the nearby tables and watched as Vasco beat the absolute shit out of a bunch of body guards. When will it ever end, you ask yourself. 

Sometime later, that same mysterious man, now dressed in a black suit like the rest of the body guards, approached Vasco calmly. You could see he had no intentions of fighting Vasco, so you sat up in your seat and watched in anticipation. 

He handed Vasco the amount of money that girl owed. And finally, Vasco left the Club peacefully. 

You groaned, “I should probably follow him.” After all, you only stayed because it was Vasco, your friend. 

Shortly after the crowd began to dissipate, you got up from your seat and followed Vasco out of the establishment. He flinched at your sudden presence, “ah! where did you come from?” he questioned you. “I was watching you the whole time you damn idiot, you didn’t notice me cheering you on?” 

“You...You were cheering me on!?” he asked, his eyes growing teary as he began to swell with emotions. You laughed wholeheartedly, “Hell no! Hahaha!” 

He sulked the entire way back to the food stall. 

Jake squinted at the two of you as you walked out of the club. When he had his fight with Vasco, he did notice a girl that teased him and laughed the same way you did before he actually fought Euntae. “ah, so that’s her,” he finally remembered where who you were, then he shivered, “...what a scary woman...” 

Why is it that he finds you scary? Guess you’ll never know.  

-

“Oh yeah, you looked upset earlier. Was there anything you wanted to talk about?” Vasco asked you as he went back to sizzling his food. You sucked in a breath, this is it. this is time to get mad. This is the time to get upset and yell and tell Vasco how much he hurt you for disappearing. 

You couldn’t find it in you. You were sure that Vasco had his reasons for disappearing, whether it would be because he was training to become stronger, or he continued his journey to beat up bad guys. Either way, you couldn’t stay mad at him forever. 

You breathed out, admitting defeat. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it.” 

“hmmm...well, if you say so,” he shrugged and continued cooking. A few other costumers approached the tent and bought a few fishcakes, complimenting Vasco’s cooking skills. 

Suddenly, Vasco froze, then he turned to you. “wait...did you ever...pay?” 

“...you said I could have it for free.” 

“I did not.” 

“yes you did.” 

“Did not.” 

“Did to.” 

[beautifulrebelglitterwitch]

Kelly Clarkson once said “I was looking for skinny jeans when I should have been looking for wranglers”. We know that story did not end well, but that statement stuck in my head like, you think you know what you want, what you should be looking for, but maybe THIS over here is what you really need. I wasn’t looking though. I wasn’t looking for skinny jeans or wranglers or a suit or gray sweatpants. I wasn’t looking at all. Maybe a side eye look like “hey is it you?”but not with any kind of strength behind it.

I wasn’t looking for anything but myself. I was (am) figuring out what exactly it is that I wanted because the truth was I knew what I didn’t want very clearly but couldn’t list one thing I actually wanted. You’ve got to know both. The universe can’t help you with half ass truths. So I went about creating the this is me and what I want list that was imaginary and in my head. I tried on ideas like clothes in a dressing room, not buying anything that didn’t fit or suit my style. In that process I found things that fit so well I knew it was the truth. I kept finding the things that fit well until I saw myself more clear than I ever, but still me, feeling more comfortable in my skin than ever before. I was alone, but not lonely. I was fulfilling desires alone better than being with a partner, especially the wrong one. I was always smiling in disbelief that I could feel so fulfilled and be alone. I had been searching and searching and searching for the person that fit with who I am now and I was exhausted.

A mentally drained creative person is a frustrated person. So I was coming up ways for me to express myself that I hadn’t before and that were free. The things I did created so much joy. I found myself, even through getting help for my depression and anxiety, through these creative endeavors a lightness and surge in creativity I hadn’t felt in some time.

Minding my own business and really the hardest part of my day being what to post to curate my blog, and what to eat, I received a message. A test. For both of us. For him, would I bite? For me, is this guy a creep? I bit. He’s not a creep. We haven’t stopped talking since. Everyday I think I wasn’t looking, I wasn’t even paying attention. I didn’t even want to talk to anyone and then he appeared. I did the opposite of what I would normally do, I broke every one of my rules. I worried I wasn’t enough, I thought he must be lying, I hoped this wasn’t a joke, I worried he would ghost me, I worried see all of my body would be the reason he’d ghost me. I was deathly afraid of my feelings.

Then one day this Motherfucker (in our earliest days I kept saying in my head this Motherfucker is trying to get me to love him, or this Motherfucker says the sweetest things. I know by calling him that in my head, I was stalling, I wanted him to prove me right, he wasn’t this amazing person, he was in fact a Motherfucker) anyway, one day this Motherfucker asks me to call him and then asks me if I’d like to be his best friend? When I tell you my eyes were wet and my smile was the biggest it’s been in years, because it’s single handedly the sweetest, most romantic thing. I’ve ever experienced. He asked a scaredy cat girl wrestling with her feelings if I’d like to be his best friend and in that moment I loved him and became even more scared, but also knew I could tell my best friend anything.

Since that phone call I have experienced something lacking in almost every relationship I have ever had. Consideration for my feelings constantly. Someone who asks the right questions and listens to my answers. Someone who says “only if you’re comfortable” and means it. Someone who makes sure I’m ok and doesn’t freak out when I’m not. Someone who will talk things out. Someone who knows we’re in this together. Someone who wants to be better for himself and for me and makes me want the same. Someone who turns me on just be being himself. So finally one day I broke down and asked “Are you for real?” and he answered “I am really real baby darling” I stared at that text for minutes. I swooned. I cried. My heart was bursting. This Motherfucker, my best friend, my lover. He’s really real.

@always-be-batman-71

[nanaooyoo]

txt yeonjun oneshot

Yeonjun misses you while out at the bar with his friends but can’t quite get himself to buck up and apologize. Just a short blurb that feels like being dropped into the middle of a story. Lmk what you think (good or bad haha). Anyways enjoy ✨

warnings/headsup: vague description of oral sex • mild suggestive material • alcohol • swearing • unspecified verbal altercation • maybe what yeonjun did was bad maybe it wasn’t idk • light proofread • fem leaning but gender neutral reader • sprinkle of angst • sort of reformed fboy!yeonjun • 1.8k words

Untitled: Yeonjun x Reader pt. I/I

“I should call them.” Yeonjun says, puffing out his cheeks as yet another pint of beer is placed on the table before him.

The white frothy foam bubbles over, making a small mess on the table. Almost gummy rings of semi evaporated alcohol adorn the dark wood of the table, along with many a discarded pistachio shell and what he thinks are the papery remains of some peanuts. He can’t really remember. His vision isn’t perfect but he can see semi clearly. It’s his mind that’s clouded the most at this point in the night.

Yeonjun sits slumped in the corner of the local dive bar in the seat of a squeaky red leather booth, stuck between two of his other tipsy friends. The faded material of the seats has been receding from its frame for many years and now the young man can’t help but think of that one ruby colored mini skirt you no longer wear because it “rides up to much”. Just as this place refuses to get rid of these squeaky old booths, you won’t get rid of that skirt for some reason. You’re always so stubborn, so sentimental… somehow, and always at the exact same time. He hates that about you… he hates it sometimes. Yeonjun toys with the wrinkling upholstery of the booth, poking and prodding at it absentmindedly with his index finger much like he used to poke and prod at the hem of that stupid red skirt you won’t just give away.

“Call who?” Hueningkai asks pulling Yeonjun out of his spiral for a minute.

Yeonjun huffs, a tuft of his messy black hair flying up and subsequently landing right back into his face. He pouts a little, ignoring the question.

Without missing a beat Taehyun replies for him as he slides into the empty spot on his sullen friend’s right side. He turns his body away from the small group as he watches Soobin and Beomgyu chat up some sorority girls by the jukebox. “That one kid he’s been talking to. The one he’s been hooking up with for a while now... I forget their name”.

“That really narrows it down…” Hueningkai jokes adjusting his posture to the other side of Yeonjun.

“For your information!” Yeonjun says sitting up a bit straighter and then immediately slumping back down “not that it matters to you two idiots, but I’ve only been talking to one person this past month. They’re… cool or whatever”.

“Just one?” Kai laughs “are you sure you aren’t just telling them that”?

Yeonjun picks up a discarded pistachio shell and throws it in Kai’s direction. “Yes I’m sure!” He sloppily balls up a fist pretending to wind it up at his friend like a much drunker much skinnier popeye. “We have a thing… going on, it’s special.”

“Fucking someone in your car every Wednesday night after class isn’t exactly what I’d call special”. Hueningkai scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Or is that a different person.”

“That was last month’s I think.” Taehyun chimes in.

Yeonjun frowns. “Not helping”.

“Well if your ‘thing’s so special then why haven’t you thought to call this person until just now?” Kai says.

“I don’t wanna bother them. Not on a school night.” Yeonjun replies slowly making his voice smaller and lowering his head in mild shame.

“Bullshit! You had a fight didn’t you. What’d you do this time huh?” Taehyun now turns around to fully face the other two in the booth. “You fuck it up or something is that it?”

“I didn’t-“ Yeonjun starts to raise his voice and then collects himself. “I didn’t do anything!”

“What’d you say!?” Tyunning ask in unison.

We just got into a little fight and haven’t been talking for a minute. It’s not like they’re my partner, it’s not like we’re dating or anything, it’s not a big deal.” He says ignoring the fact that to him it was indeed a big deal.

“Don’t tell me you actually said that to them?” Kai asks, a twinge of cynicism in his otherwise sincere voice. “I mean maybe you should just call them up… I’m sure you’re right, it’s not a big deal” He adds when he notices Yeonjun isn’t answering.

“I don’t know”… Yeonjun looks over to the small group where the rest of his friends are as one of the sorority girls rubs Beomgyu’s shoulder and laughs. “They seem to be having fun.” He bemoans and reaches for the unclaimed and now lukewarm glass on the table and takes a large swig. Yeonjun clears his throat with a guttural release of phlegm and low drunken burp. He blinks slowly before speaking again. “I wish I was having that much fun tonight.” Noticing how Soogyu are able to keep the attention of an entire group of people without even trying to have sex with any of them.

“Don’t be like that man. There’s no point in just wallowing in your sadness all night.” Taehyun says wrapping an arm around Yeonjun who only seems to sink deeper and deeper into the booth as he thinks of you and what you might be up to tonight.

“Whatever happened, just apologize and get it over with.” Kai says.

“He’s right for once!” Taehyun adds “you might feel worse if you keep avoiding it but you’ll definitely feel worse of you keep moping about it all night.”

“Plus your mood is really killing the vibe right now.” Hueningkai leans in “it’s no fun drinking with a sad g— ow!”

Taehyun hits the chatty boy’s shoulder prompting him to stop before rubbing small circles onto Yeonjun’s back.

Normally he would take the opportunity to get a jab in at Kai whenever he can as well, but Yeonjun’s too distracted with the light film of tacky alcohol stuck between his thumb and index to say anything. Just by touching the table he’s yet again reminded of some small moment with you. A moment he probably would have cherished more at the time if he knew he’d eventually fuck up this bad. Usually he’d be way more grossed out by these dirty old tables but the way the rough pads of his fingers take in the combined feeling of damp condensation from the half empty glass in front of him, and whatever sticky thing’s been spilled on the table has his mind wandering elsewhere again.

The many nights he’s spent in your apartment, slender fingers wrapped around the widest part of your thighs with the wetness and the stickiness clinging more to his plush lips and sharp chin than to his fingers. The cushion of his backside just wasn’t as comfortable in this chair as it was when he was propped up against the fluffy white pillows your mom had sent from home. Back against your headboard as your head went lower and lower down his length. The beer here didn’t taste as good as the cans of his favorite brew you kept cold in your fridge just for him, but then again, nothing ever tasted as good as you did. Oh how he wished he was running his hands through your hair and recounting his day instead of whining and running his hands through… ew was that a piece of gum!

No offense to his friends but he would much rather be hearing your little quips and corny jokes than Hueningkai’s right now. He can’t help just getting a bit emotional thinking about all the times you ordered a pizza just to entice him to stay and study a little bit longer and now you won’t even talk to him.

Yeonjun feels a lump form in his throat. At first he thinks it’s just the sad horniness causing it but then he realizes it’s mostly just the sad. He can feel his eyes start to water a bit as the lump gets harder and harder to swallow which only makes him think of you more.

“Are you okay”?

Yeonjun’s not even really sure who asks it but those three words are enough to send him over the edge. He officially becomes the guy who gets too drunk and in his feelings on a night out and the waterworks begin.

“Fuck man! Do you really like them that much?” Taehyun seems genuinely surprised as Yeonjun isn’t always very open about his romantic feelings.

“Are you actually crying right now?” Hueningkai asks as he grabs some bar napkins and gently wipes at his friends face.

Yeonjun attempts to deny the accusations (vehemently at that) but can’t quite get the words out. “No!” he whines and instead crosses his arms on the table and buries his head in between them before anyone can spot to redness creeping its way across his cheeks and under eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Beomgyu walks over witnessing the scene before him with a bit of indifference. He places his palms flat on the wood surface and stands before the group confused. “Cool if I drink this?” He asks but finishes off the rest of Yeonjun’s beer without waiting for an answer anyway.

Taehyun shrugs “relationship stuff”

“I think he had a fight and must miss someone or something” Kai attempts to clarify.

Beomgyu furrows his eyebrows for a bit and leans in closer. “Hey buddy just call them” he announces matter of factly, but when he gets no response he reaches over Taehyun and into Yeonjun’s pocket.

Beomgyu finds his friend’s phone with relative ease and stares at the screen. “Let’s see… phone… call history… missed call from mom… missed call from me… aha! This is them right there’s a heart next to the name! How cute”. He coos sarcastically.

Yeonjun’s head shoots up. “What’re you doing!?”

“Fixing your problem.” Beomgyu says like it’s the most stupidly obvious solution ever (because it just might be). He holds the phone up to his ear and taps his foot impatiently on the ground.

“Give me that, are you insane!” Yeonjun lunges out of his seat practically trampling the other two around him in the process. He snatches the phone out of his hand and goes to hang up the call as quickly as possible when he’s met with a pitch black screen. The only things visible his puffy eyed reflection and tousled raven hair. “What the hell…”

“You think I’d actually call them! I don’t know your password dude! I don’t even know who they are-” Beomgyu laughs. “-but you obviously care about this person and you’re already standing up so… He gestures to a quieter part of the bar

“How’d you know-“

“I’m your friend”.

𖦹

It takes some convincing from the other three guys with Soobin eventually coming over and joining the quite forceful pep talk, but after being tricked and a little humiliated, Yeonjun finds himself crouched down in the corridor between the supply closet and the bathroom, hugging his knees with one arm and propping up his phone to his ear with the other.

The first few seconds of rings feel like hours and he isn’t even really sure you’re going to pick up.

“Y/N! Hey! Do you have a second… I wanted to say sorry… Okay I’ve been drinking a little but that’s not important— I was not crying”!

-🍌🍶