#ash also wishing he still had his gun

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

wind breaker au where ash lynx is sakura's guardian angel and is currently having an aneurysm, wanting to strangle endo and giving griffin a thousand apologies and praise cuz he now knows what it's like to be an older brother to a reckless idiot

[eyelambspider]

𝟎𝟑. 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 & 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 || 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞

Day three of Kink/Creeptober! Here is the list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : john price x gn!reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Its the zombie apocalypse, and as a former military man, John Price leads your group to a rooftop in order to get saved. Shortly after, he comes up to you with an offer that surprises you: He wants to fuck you like its the end of the world. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.6 k 𝐚/𝐧 : although I think this works for both a fem & male reader (I don't describe reader's body in great detail) please lmk if it doesn't and I will change this to fit pronouns! also, the 'saved' scene is very L4D coded 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : smut, nsfw, mentions of death/gore/guns (the zombies), no use of y/n, creampie, dirty talk, praise, kissing, aftercare, fluff, swearing (the least of our problems huh?)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋. Swarms of the undead had sprung up, laying waste to the streets. It had only been a week or so since it had started and news of the virus had gone—quite literally—airborne.

Captain John Price had led the handful of survivors to the abandoned hotel. The bravest of the group took up guns and fired at the undead that lurked in the foyer. While a few women and children held back, knives and makeshift weapons in their hands.

"Come on! Everyone get in!" Price and a few men stood at the bottom of the stairwell, holding the door for everyone to flood in and make their way to the roof. Anxious to reach rescue.

Seven flights up, you pushed the door to the roof open with a bang. Immediately your eyes shot up towards the horizon, searching the skies frantically.

Had you all missed it?

The entire group slowly appeared behind you, Price coming up last. Everyone turning their tired faces towards the military man, searching his face for any sign of hope for their salvation. The only thing that had kept them going for days.

"They'll come," he assured. Although he couldn't really believe the words himself, it seemed everyone else did.

The small group of survivors began to collect themselves, willing to wait as long as it took for rescue. Everyone found something to do. Families began to make spots for the children to sit on with blankets and clothing, water and a bit of food beginning to go around. Some of the men even disappeared down to the seventh floor, clearing it properly of debris and barricading it... unable to stand idle even now.

The sky was filled with a haze of smoke, distant fires and sirens long died out wafting into the air. Polluting the city with the smell of death and ash. It was horrible, even from up here.

Some people couldn't bear to think about it, or begin to believe that the world had ended... You though, you were quite literally staring the apocalypse in the face.

Distant skyscrapers had collapsed, lit aflame like birthday candles. The yellow sun was hidden behind a dreamy haze of smoke. And below, where your eyes traced, the streets were crawling with zombies. Bits of flesh ripped from their faces. Some already bloated and decrepit, while others were still bleeding. Chunks of faces and limbs scattered about like urban trash. It was a mass of flesh, clawing their way towards the loudest noises, groaning and wailing like souls of the damned for just one more meal.

"You'll give yourself nightmares," a voice spoke. The accent had become so familiar during the past few days that you didn't even need to glance over your shoulder to know that Price was walking up to you.

He watched the way the eerie wind lapped at your hair, the way you peered over the edge... his dark eyes unable to read that distant expression on your grimy face.

He really wished he had a smoke right now. A long and deep sigh slipped from his lips as he watched the corpses below the building linger aimlessly like termites. Bumping into each other mindlessly with groans and slobbery hisses. Just looking for their next victim.

Price glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You weren't really paying attention, but his eyes lingered on the soft curve of your back as you leaned over to look down. He licked his lips, inhaling softly as if to say something before the sounds of choppers began to fill the air.

Zombies and survivors alike turned towards the thunderous sound. Black helicopters flew overhead in the dozens, blotting out the sun with whirring rotors. Although some of the survivor's cheered and waved for help... Price's stomach dropped.

Something wasn't right.

Everyone watched in confusion and despair as the government helicopters flew overhead and passed them by, stirring up smoke as they headed deeper into the city. Oblivious to the people who wailed and cried out in panic for them to come back.

You watched with wide eyes as the rescue slipped right through your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

That night, it all seemed hopeless.

But, as humans always do, they held out miraculously.

Some survivors made a make-shift 'Save Us' sign to hang over the roof using spare bedsheets and gore from the street. Others continued to barricade the floor off, everyone collectively agreeing to start preparing for the long haul.

They had given you a room to stay in, everyone shared a hall, but most families and people that knew each other kept their doors open to chat. Yours was closed, leaving you to stare aimless up at the ceiling. Listening to the sounds of your breath against the clamor of people in the hall trying to comfort each other to the world ending just outside those large windows. Zombies, once people you might've known, growled and screamed for their next face to tear open with their teeth-

Before you could stumble further into despair, the door to your hotel room clicked closed. You sat up and glanced over, that questioning look on your face making Price sigh again, his hands coming to rest on his dusted jeans.

"I have an... offer you might want to here me out on," he tossed his hands up, as if he wasn't exactly sure how to fucking say it-

God, he really wanted to fuck you, and the apocalypse seemed like no better excuse to do just that.

"Fuckk," Price panted against your pulse, his face buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in your very essence each time his hips snapped forwards. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned, sucking a deep red mark into your heated skin.

The two of you were tangled in white sheets. Price had you laying beneath his burly body, your soft legs wrapped around his hips, squeezing and pulling him in deeper. The sensation of Price's cock burying itself to your hilt made the two of you moan into each other with equal fervor. His tip slamming softly into that sweet spot inside of you that both made your eyes roll.

This was everything he fucking needed for the past few days. His mind not focused on rationing or food or all that other shit- God he just wanted your sweet body beneath him like this. Watching your body bounce below him softly from the force of his thrusts. His cock buried so tantalizingly deep into your tight heat. The sound of your skin against his- "Fuckk," he groaned again, nearly tipping over the edge just thinking about it.

You moaned beneath him, holding onto his broad shoulders, fingers skimming over his war-torn skin for purchase, holding on for dear life as the soldier unintentionally gave your body all his pent up energy. When he felt you raise your hips to meet his insistent thrusts, he could've sworn he was in love.

"Price!" You begged. For more, for anything. Everything about him was addicting. The way sweat glistened off his dark brows, the way his soft eyes held yours as he pounded into you, watching every reaction, every breath you took with his pupils blown wide open with pure lust.

He could see how much you loved it, could feel how hard your walls clamped around him.

He shook his head, dipping down again to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "Fuck, I'm not going to last long with you looking like that baby," he whispered.

He kept you under him, enrapturing you with his warm skin and musky scent. Price hiked your left leg up and over his strong forearm, spreading you open for him. Allowing him to sink in deeper with a deep growl of satisfaction.

Price could feel his orgasm beginning to build at the base of his spine, his measured thrusts becoming a sloppier the more he chased it. He knew you were close too, he could feel your body writhing beneath his, begging for more friction, trying to hold him impossibly close.

Even with a horde of the undead standing a few floors below, trapping you all into this hotel. Even with the sounds of distant helicopters and fires raging in the background, or the incessant creak of the bed every time your bodies met... All you could hear was each other. Blocking out the world just to listen to those sweet cries and those low growls of satisfaction.

With one powerful thrust, Price came inside of you with a guttural moan, smothering the sounds of his orgasm into your neck. He kept thrusting, riding out the heavenly high he got from your body... even when he felt you squeeze down on him with one final cry.

The strong man above you suddenly went a little limp in your arms, his lips brushing against the burning shell of your ear as he panted, "That was fucking perfect." He found himself chuckling, the two of you spent from the exertion.

Price felt you whimper below him, feeling your legs tremble around him with a sly grin. You were going to feel that in the morning... Inner thighs already feeling sore.

"I got ya," Price grunted, untangling himself from your limbs. His muscular arm never leaving your waist even as he settled behind you under the sheets, making the two of you comfortable by pulling the blanket back up. He cradled you close to him, your back pressed against the hard planes of his chest. "Get some sleep," he murmured, planting a soft, almost weary, kiss to your temple. As if the act was suddenly too intimate and out of place in a burning world.

[hearts4violett]

dead man

tw: r4pe (not done by/to fez or ash), abusive bf, murder, and the rest is just sweet

(i was r4ped 3 days ago so this is kinda my way of coping, also this is my first time writing on here so im sorry if it sucks lol)

why did this have to happen to me? thats all that you could think as you stumbled your way to the house you always go to in times like these, fezcos house. this time was different. usually you would go there after you and your boyfriend had an argument which would result in him hitting you. fez and ash had always told you to leave the guy. they hated him more than anything in this world. you had feelings for fez and he had feelings for you, but your boyfriend was in issue. ash had seen you as a mother. he loved you to death and would do anything for you, both of them would.

this time though was worse than you couldve imagined. your boyfriend came home drunk as he usually does and was in the mood. you said no and he didnt like that, he took it as a challenge. he had forced himself in you and left you when he was finished. hes probably out drinking again. you finally make your way to fezcos house and knock on the door softly, having no energy from walking and what your boyfriend had done to you. Ash opens the door and sees you, blood running down your legs, mascara and tears smeared down your face, and your hair going every which way. ashs face drops and its then that you see fezco come from out of his room.

they took you in instantly. fez sat you on the couch as ash went and got a blanket. "Did he do this to you?" Fez wasnt stupid, he knew what he had done and so do ash even though you hadnt told them. As i stare off blankly, i slowly nod, the words not coming out. Ash wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and walked to the other room. I knew what he was going to do.

Ash walked back in and tossed a gun into fezcos lap, ash having one of his own. "Lets go fucking kill him." I turn to look at ash and then to fezco who was shaking with rage. How could someone do this to someone like you? you were kind and gentle and you didnt deserve any of this. Fez turned to you "You want me to kill him for you? I'll do it, ill kill that motherfucker, just say the word." He said as he reached out and held my hand. Again, all i could do was nod. He was a dead man.

Me nodding my head was all fez and ash needed before getting up and walking to the door. Fez looked back at me and mouthed the words I love you before leaving. i sighed, as if i knew the one thing in my life that made me want to die, was going to be gone soon. I got up and made my way to the bathroom to shower. I could feel his hands still lingering on me and i couldnt stand how dirty i felt.

While stripping off my clothes, i noticed the marks he had left on me. He had left hand prints on my neck and bruises littered my body. I wanted to cry at the sight of them, but at this moment, i couldnt. my body couldnt produce a single tear. I wish it would though.

After getting out, i felt better in a way. less dirty. i went to fezcos room and stole a tshirt and some boxers. Fez always told me i was more than welcome to wear his clothes when i stayed here. As i had finished putting on my clothes and brushing my hair and teeth, i heard the door open. I peeked out and there stood ash and fez, covered in blood. He was finally gone.

Now my tears started to work. I let out a small sob and ran over to them, hugging them tightly. "Thank you" i whispered out. They hugged me tightly, as if i would disappear if they let me go. Fez rubbed circles on my back and caressed my hair. Ash had walked away to clean up. "Hes gone, baby, its ok" fez says quietly. I was finally free.

I took my head away from the side of his neck to look at him, i wanted nothing more than to be with fez forever. I finally could and i knew he would take care of me and do anything for me.

[swifty-fox]

Seven Sentence Sunday

tagged by @stars-remain2 thankssss

we are at the penultimate conversation between John and his father todayyy

(also way more than seven sentences but I am feeling generous)

It’s not until the front door shuts that John’s father pulls away, exhaling raggedly and half turning away wipe an arm across his face. His cigarette is still caught between two fingers, the tip well past needing an ash.

“Good man,” John says, giddy humor trembling his words as he gestures at it.

John Sr. lets out a breathless laugh, glancing down like he’d forgotten it was there at all and chips the excess to the ground before placing it between his lips. Inhales deep and exhales a thick out of smoke, eyes closed in reverence. John allows his father the quiet to finish his cigarette, watching his face slowly settle back into something a little less raw-nerve pain. Steps back to allow John Sr. to grind the butt under one shoe and exhale sharply, like he was about to speak.

Very suddenly John feels twenty-three again, still growing into his bones and imagining all the glory he’d win for himself as an Airforce Pilot. Convinced that with enough medals, enough praise, he might convince his father that he really had made the right decision. 

He beats John Sr. to the punch.

“I’m sorry. For stealin’ the truck. I know it musta’ been a pain gettin’ to work.” 

“I–” his father closes his eyes, “Jesus, Johnny, I don’t give a damn about the truck, are you kidding me?” 

John stares at him, sinks his teeth into his lip and suddenly, oddly, wishes he had one of Gale’s toothpicks to chew on instead, “Well, for leaving, then. I’m– for leaving. I’m sorry.”

John Sr. puts a hand on the back of John’s neck, smelling like ash and woodshavings. Leans in close enough that their foreheads were almost touching, and John has nowehere to run from the fullness of his fathers gaze. 

“Are you okay?” John Sr. asks him, “John are you okay?” 

John stares at him. Open and closes his mouth.

No. Yes. I went out to the grave of the only other boy to kiss me. I brought a gun. I confessed my love to the man inside your home. I knew him and let him know me. I’m leaving, yet again. 

There’s no way to lie in this moment, they’re too close for John to speak anything but the truth. He knows his father will see it all over his face if he attempts dishonesty. He doesn’t know what to say. John Sr.’s fingers twitch on his neck, a quick squeeze as if in attempt to hide the sudden tremble of them. 

“I understand,” John’s father speaks haltingly, “That you are still angry at me, for cutting you off.” 

John can’t hide his flinch, “It’s–” 

“No,” John Sr. holds up a hand to stop him, “I need to say this now.” He waits for John’s silence before continuing, “I stand by it.”

tagging @reallylilyreally @triggerlil @london-cowboy @rambleonwaywardson @blood-mocha-latte @kaaaaaaarf

[kingkonoha]

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity!reader

♡ — 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: all actions have consequences, and after the latest life-ruining scandal, the owner of CS Records has the perfect punishment in mind for Eldian Devils, their manager, and you. With all the money and influential power in the world, there’s one person who will make everyone regret their decisions: the rich man.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem!reader, modern au, angst, heartbreak, divorce, marriage, cheating, violence & blood/bruises mention, gun mention, false imprisonment, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, drinking, smoking. (Some warnings here also apply to the series as a whole/other parts as well.)

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 13k

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

The smoldering cigarette that rested between Eren Yeager’s bruised lips glowed red when he inhaled it.

It was a disturbingly cold day in Los Angeles, cold enough to force the heat-adapted citizens of Southern California to dig into the back of their overpacked closets in hopes of finding a dusty, old, and unworn jacket.

The ashes that fell from Eren’s cigarette instantly blew away in the chilly wind, making the Handsome Man wish that his problems could disappear just as easily.

With one hand shoved into the pocket of his black hooded jacket, he stared out at the night sky, blowing sweet smoke into the cool air.

He waited impatiently for the apartment door behind him to open.

He wasn’t a fan of unexpected visitors himself, and he didn’t like having to pop up in the middle of the night without giving some sort of notice, but he had no other choice.

For a moment, he figured that no one would come to the door. He had been standing outside for a couple of minutes now.

Suddenly, he heard the locks start to come undone, but rather slowly.

Cautiously.

When the old wooden door creaked open, Eren turned around to face the door, taking another puff of his therapeutic cigarette.

The door didn’t open all the way — the chain lock was still hooked — but it was cracked open just enough for a pair of big blue eyes to peek out of the small gap and stare back at him.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk,” Eren released a shaky breath. “Please.”

Armin simply blinked at him. A gentle click of the lids. Eren couldn’t tell what the blonde-haired man was thinking — what thoughts were shuttling through his overactive, wise mind — and he was prepared for the door to be slammed in his face soon enough. Should Armin choose to do that, slam the door hard enough to wake up his neighbors and make their alerted dogs bark, Eren couldn’t exactly blame him.

That was why when Armin did shut the door all of a sudden, Eren could only frown, and think about what a stupid idea it was to show up at his apartment like this in the first place.

Just as he stomped out his cigarette and was about to drag himself back to his car and begrudgingly head home, the gentle clinks of the chain lock being unhooked made him halt his footsteps.

Armin Arlert had fully opened the door this time, stepping to the side to let Eren in.

—

Eren’s curious, emerald-green eyes darted across the small, cramped space Armin was forced to call home. It was a cheaply made, poorly lit, brownish apartment that had not seen a spec of cosmetic work since it was built decades ago.

Eren’s closet was bigger than this place.

Even so, there was something quite cozy about it. It was clean, uncluttered, and decorated simply with old, thrifted furniture.

It had the touch of someone who was trying their best.

“Um,” Armin said nervously, shutting and locking the door after Eren stepped inside and entered the tiny living room. “You can have a seat, I guess.”

“Thanks.” As Eren sat down on the squeaky faded green couch, he noticed a yellow blanket draped messily along the cushions, along with an open copy of Stephen King’s Misery novel sitting right beside it.

Although Armin was wearing a white t-shirt and blue plaid-patterned pajama pants, undoubtedly dressed for bed, it was obvious that he was wide awake and halfway through the popular horror book. That particular bit of knowledge made Eren feel better about disturbing him so late at night.

“How did you get my address?” Armin questioned, lingering around near the front door, not daring to sit down next to Eren just yet, as he couldn’t determine whether or not he wanted to punch the brown-haired wife-snatcher in the face and worsen his injuries.

“Mikasa gave it to me,” Eren muttered. “I know it’s weird-”

“Yeah, it is.” Armin interrupted, scanning his eyes over Eren.

Despite their only source of light coming from the dim lamp next to the couch, Armin could make out the fresh, red cuts and bruises on his face quite clearly.

The colorful injury to the right side of his mouth was directly below the one underneath his bloodshot eye, and right across from the large bruise on his aching jaw.

But that wasn’t nearly as alarming as the absolute misery visible within his watery eyes.

Even so, as Armin slickly glanced down at Eren’s fists, noticing the black-and-blue marks across his knuckles and the dried blood coating the black ring on his right hand, it was obvious that he didn’t go down without a fight.

“You could have just asked Mikasa for my phone number if you wanted to talk,” Armin shifted his feet.

“No. This is something we need to talk about face-to-face.”

Armin walked across the squeaky wooden floor, and he sat down on the furthest end of the couch, as far away from Eren as he could get.

He placed a blue bookmark in between the pages of his novel before closing it and bringing his knees to his chest, pulling the yellow blanket across his shoulders.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

When those words fell from between Eren’s lips, Armin whipped his head in his direction, his ocean-blue eyes wide with shock.

“You’re . . . sorry?”

“Yeah,” Eren ran his hand over the lower part of his face, sighing heavily. “I can barely eat or sleep, Armin. All I can do is sit around, feeling like shit, thinking about how I stole your wife. I didn’t get why it was such a big deal until she cheated on me. I just . . . I really fell for her, you know?”

“It’s okay, Eren.” Looking away from the bruised man, Armin’s gaze dropped down to the raggedy floor. “You don’t have to lie to me to garner sympathy and earn my forgiveness.”

“What?” This time, Eren was the one to look over at Armin.

“Just be honest,” Armin paused. “You thought she was pretty, and you wanted her all to yourself. She was a prize. You don’t have to claim that you were in love with her to make me forgive you. I’m over it, I swear.”

“But it’s true. I was in love with her.”

“How? You barely knew her. I know relationships move fast in Hollywood, but . . .”

“I did know her,” Eren said. “She was a theater kid back in high school, and before all of this, she wanted to become a playwright. You both worked at that little bakery to get by in a rough New York neighborhood. She snores a little in her sleep if she’s been drinking. If she doesn’t set an alarm, she’ll wake up late, no matter what. She fucking sucks at driving and cooking, and she burned grilled cheese a couple of times. She tilts her head when she’s listening to people talk. She loves card games, even though she tries to make up her own rules. She loved playing outside as a kid — still has a little scar on her knee from it — and her mom always told her to come home before the streetlights came on, and dinner was always ready. Her favorite color is-”

“O-Okay, I get it. I was wrong.”

Aside from the gentle hum of the space heater sitting on the floor next to the couch, all noise ceased for a moment, until Eren spoke up.

“I wanna help you out, Armin.” Eren leaned back on the couch. “I have more than enough money to-”

“No.” Armin was quick to interrupt him. “Thank you, but I’m okay. Mikasa already offered. Several times, actually.”

“What about a better damn job, then?” Looking at the blonde once again, Eren’s eyes drifted down to Armin’s hands. “I could find you a nice job as an entertainment manager or agent. You helped Hollywood discover Y/N, and it could really be a nice career for you. There’s better insurance, a lotta other good benefits, and you can find a better place to live-”

“No. I’m not some poor pathetic person who needs saving, okay? I know it looks rough, but honestly, this is the most comfort I’ve ever had financially. I’m fine-”

Suddenly, Eren grabbed Armin’s hand. He ran his eyes across the scars and scratches that littered his skin from years upon years of hard work, along with his calloused fingertips.

“I never said you needed saving, did I? I just think that I owe you, and you owe it to yourself to live a life that isn’t so fucking shitty. Just look at your hands.”

Armin didn’t answer, but he didn’t snatch his hand away from Eren either.

“Just think about it, okay?” Eren dropped Armin’s scarred hand, and pushed himself off of the couch, wincing as he did so. As he headed towards Armin’s front door, mumbling a low “I’ll see you later,” his footsteps halted once Armin asked him a simple question.

“Who beat you up, Eren?”

“That’s none of your business,” Eren paused. “All you need to know is that soon, I’ll get them back for it. I’ll make their asses suffer.”

Eren placed his trembling, bruised hand on the doorknob.

“Was it Connie’s men? Did they beat you up because of her?”

Armin’s question startled him to his core.

Eren whipped his head around so fast, that his low man bun almost came undone. How exactly did Armin know about Connie and his group of bastards?

“How did you know?”

Armin smiled sadly. “Because they beat me up too.”

—

Between the nightly hours of four and nine o’clock every Friday, Jean Kirstein could be found working in the recording studio inside of CS Records, creating new songs for Eldian Devils — or, for himself, as of late.

Levi Ackerman was parked on the other side of the street across from the tall building at 8:50 P.M., sitting in his newest black car. One that the local paparazzi hadn’t been taught to recognize just yet.

Black hood. Black jeans. Sunglasses too, despite it being a dark, starless night.

And he waited.

He sat in the driver's seat, watching the entrance.

And he waited.

Seven minutes later, Jean strolled right out of the studio, pushing the glass door open with one hand, and holding a white styrofoam cup filled with soda with the other.

“I’ll see you later, have a good night,” he called out to the freckle-faced blonde receptionist behind the white-and-gold marbled front desk.

Jean exited CS Records, sipping on his drink as he turned left once he made his way out of the front doors, on the way to his car.

He hated parking in the parking garage.

It was a bit less safe than the public L.A. streets — bright lights from nearby buildings, ordinary citizens walking up and down the sidewalks, cars zooming by almost constantly.

Even so, Levi was rather wise.

And tonight, at least, Jean should have taken his chances with the parking garage.

There was a dark alley in between two buildings that Jean had strolled by rather often. It was the kind of spooky place that most people wouldn’t dare wander into, as the bright lights of the city didn’t reach into the shady, deserted passageway, home to rusted trash cans and leaky, wet pipes that smelt of sewage water.

While young, impressionable children might have walked across the street to avoid the silly monsters that they imagined would be lurking in the darkness of the alley, most adults just walked on by.

Nothing to see. Nothing worth a single glance.

And that’s what Jean did.

Maybe, if he did bother to turn his head to the left and look into the creepy alley for even just a split second, he would have noticed Levi standing there, blending in with the engulfing darkness.

When a hand reached out and grabbed Jean by the collar of his dark-red shirt, his drink fell to the ground with a gentle thud.

Even Jean himself truly could not say whether or not he had made some sort of noise as his manager casually dragged him back into the alley, as if he was nothing more than a bag of garbage.

However, once Levi tossed him on the cold, wet concrete, and landed a swift kick to his jaw with the heaviest pair of black combat boots he could find, Jean’s short yell would have surely grabbed the attention of anyone nearby.

If only the blaring radios, rumbling engines, and squeaky tires from the cars speeding down the road weren’t so deafening. If only the loud chatter from the local L.A. citizens wasn’t so noisy. If only someone bothered to look down the alley.

Levi kicked Jean in the chest this time. His hands were in his pockets as if he was simply kicking a rock down the street.

When his boot slammed into Jean’s stomach, and blood spewed out from his client’s mouth, that was when Levi removed his hands from the pockets of his jacket. He took off his sunglasses, tossing them in the little splatter of Jean’s blood.

Jean struggled to look up at the man looming over him. But, when his bloodshot eyes did finally manage to glance up into Levi’s dark ones, he was certain that he had never seen such an intense amount of deadly hatred in someone’s eyes before.

The simple fact that Jean had the nerve to look at him only pissed him off even more.

Levi kicked Jean right in the face again. Then, he pressed his bloodied face against that unforgiving, dirty concrete with the bottom of his boot.

“You have a very kickable face, Jean.” Levi’s haunting tone was just as scary as he was, as it was laced heavily with white-hot anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jean coughed out. Who knew it would be so incredibly difficult to speak when your face was pressed to the ground by another man’s foot? “Why are you-”

Levi leaned forward just a bit, applying more pressure, which, in turn, cut off Jean’s words.

“Did you enjoy your time in the studio today, Jean? Writing more songs about Y/N? I heard the last song you wrote was a real big hit.”

When that last word rolled off of Levi’s venom-laced tongue, he raised his foot off of Jean’s head, but only to kick him in the gut two more times.

“Wh-What?” Jean heaved in between his low shouts of utter anguish, his words coming out slowly and painfully. “Why do you care about . . . a stupid song? You have bigger shit . . . to worry about, d-don’t you?”

“Oh, right. I do.” Levi squatted down, staring into Jean’s eyes — which were glistening with anger and hatred. Grabbing Jean’s hair, he lowered his voice as he spoke to the injured man.

“You’re referring to those leaked photos, aren’t you? You think I give a shit about my reputation? I only care about that song you put out. You made her cry, you know that? Now, as your manager, I have a few questions.”

Levi rose to his feet once again.

He kicked Jean with a lot more force. A lot more blinding anger. A lot less care to which body parts his boots connected with.

“Did I tell you to release that goddamn song? Huh? Who the hell do you think you are, doing something like that without running it by me?”

Only when Levi stopped kicking him, did Jean realize that beyond his unyielding rage, he truly wanted an answer.

Jean spit out the blood that had filled his mouth into the small puddle of red liquid beside him, the pool that had formed from his other wounds.

Although his bones and organs ached as he did so, he sat up as best as he could and looked Levi Ackerman right in the eye.

Levi had gained a bit of respect for Jean, even if it was just a small bit. He clearly wasn’t a coward, as he didn’t try to run away, nor did he cry for help.

He only took it like a man, and while his bones might have been on the verge of breaking, his spirit wasn’t.

How admirable.

“I don’t have to run shit by you. You’re nothing more than my manager. You work for me-”

Jean cut himself off at the horrifying sight of Levi pulling his leg back, getting ready to kick him once more with that bloodied boot of his.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Jean sighed. “It was . . . Connie’s idea.”

“Connie?” Levi lowered his foot, a frown of confusion spreading across his face. “That doesn’t make any sense. He hates drama. Says it embarrasses his company. He wouldn’t make you do something like this.”

Jean winced in pain with every single breath he took. Even so, he fought through it as he spoke.

“He would do something like this if it embarrasses Eren even more. And it does.”

Connie risking the reputation of his company for the sake of embarrassing Eren was something Levi could have looked past without a care in the world, truth be told.

But the rumors of an affair that was spread throughout Jean’s song had also embarrassed you.

And he couldn’t let that slide.

“What’s going on between Connie and Eren?” Levi stepped closer towards Jean. “Tell me now.”

“Connie just thinks that Eren’s getting too disrespectful. He’s trying to teach him a lesson, alright? All I know is that Connie made Eren divorce Y/N, and he keeps forcing all of us to make more music.” Jean dropped his gaze to the ground below him.

“Connie really screwed the band over with those contracts. We can’t get out of it. He controls everything — what songs we play, our daily schedules, what we wear, who we can talk to . . . and if you don’t do it, you get beaten up, or worse. I didn’t wanna write that song. I don’t want Y/N to hate me, believe me, but that’s just how it is. Eren . . . Eren’s trying to fight back against all of it, and Connie doesn’t like it.” Suddenly, Jean looked up at the shadowy figure standing in front of him. “But you don’t give a damn, do you? You work for Connie. You’re our manager, so you must know about all that, and you don’t care. Am I wrong here?”

Aside from the noisy hustle and bustle of the sweet Los Angeles nightlife, it was silent for a moment.

“I didn’t know,” Levi said.

Jean raised his eyebrows, but then, after a handful of seconds, he frowned.

“I guess that doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “Y/N’s the only client you give a damn about now. You don’t even give a damn about yourself. Your life is ruined, and yet, here you are, worrying about her.”

Those bold, brave comments would have earned the poor musician another kick or two, and he tensed his body in preparation once he saw Levi shift his stance a bit, but the kick never came. Instead, Levi spoke, and he did so rather calmly.

“Why is Connie putting the band through hell and no one else? All of his other artists get to live their lives and do whatever the hell they want.”

“It’s our punishment for embarrassing him with our behavior, I guess. For drawing all of this negative attention to his label all because of a girl. Connie doesn’t like drama unless he’s directly behind it. If I’m right, then that can only mean that he’ll punish Y/N soon enough for the new cheating scandal. And you.”

Was that truly it? Was Connie truly so power-hungry, he’d willingly control people, cause drama, and embarrass the artists of his company, because he was pissed off over them accidentally embarrassing him first?

Would he do anything to get the upper hand, even if it meant not allowing the very artists who made him wealthy to have any sort of freedom?

How deranged.

And, now, because Levi wasn’t strong enough to resist temptation, which ended up embarrassing Connie’s company, the two of you were next.

“That asshole doesn’t scare me,” Levi clenched his jaw. “I’ll be damned if I let that dumbass try to control me or her.”

“Really? You think he gives a shit about the law, Levi? Or being a good person with morals? Think he won’t shoot you in the face and force someone else to take the blame if you refuse to listen to him? He did warn you at that meeting a long time ago, remember?” Jean’s tone suddenly softened, his bloodied face becoming pale with worry. “And now, he’s so pissed off to hear about you and Y/N hooking up, and you leaking the photos, I’m sure he’s . . . already started.”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to leak photos of myself sleeping with a married client? What kind of idiot do you take me for?” Levi paused, “And what the hell do you mean? What has Connie started? Started punishing us?”

Jean’s expression changed into a look Levi couldn’t recognize.

“Levi, do you even know what Y/N has been doing lately?”

—

TWO DAYS LATER – LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Our next guest here on The Nights With Flint Show has stolen everyone’s heart with their touching rags-to-riches story. This baker-turned-singer-turned-actress has raised the standard when it comes to natural, raw talent, and the world of entertainment just can’t keep up! She has achieved three Billboard Hot 100 number-one singles, and her next album, Heartbreaker, is available for pre-order now. You know her, you love her — Please welcome, F/N L/N!”

As an artificial smile graced your burning, beautiful face — which was sore from hours upon hours of beaming in front of invasive cameras — the live audience consisting mainly of middle-aged men and women applauded when you walked out from backstage to join Flint Davidson, the infamous Las Vegas talk show host who once interviewed Eren Yeager himself, right in the same purple, velvety couch that you elegantly sat down in.

The bright studio lights shined upon his unnaturally tan skin and porcelain veneers as he welcomed you. The enthusiastic man seemed like a wax figure. A puppet. But even so, his unnerving smile wasn’t fake, unlike yours.

He was a product of fame and money, and those empty blue eyes of his reflected his vacant soul when he stared at you, his very special guest for tonight’s show.

Greetings were exchanged. Sugary, false manners with a touch of family-friendly humor were displayed perfectly, just as you had been taught to do.

Typically, it was muscle memory — how to be perfect. But, as you mindlessly chatted about how lovely it was to be in Las Vegas again, perfection wasn’t the driving force behind your admirable behavior this time.

It was fear.

“Well, Flint, the last time I was here in Las Vegas, I was watching your show from my hotel room. Now, I’m actually sitting here with you. It’s a dream come true. I must say, you’re even more handsome in person!”

“Oh, no need to butter me up, I’m gonna see your new movie, I promise! I’d be a fool to miss the sequel to A Game of Darkness. They actually gave my role to you because they said I couldn’t act — whatever that means — but don’t worry, I’ll still watch it, even if it hurts!”

The audience laughed lightly at his corny jokes, and you did as well. An entire week’s worth of media training was dedicated to mastering the Ideal Laugh.

Practicing in front of your instructor.

Practicing in front of the mirror.

Practicing until you could no longer recognize the difference between your real, wholehearted chortle, and your phony one.

“Your natural laugh is rather boisterous at times.” Your instructor once said, pursing her lips as she squinted her eyes. “We will work on changing that promptly.”

Now, your soft laugh was as pleasant as a flower dancing in a gentle breeze.

It was perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Everything was perfect. Everything had to be perfect-

“So, let’s talk about something a little more serious.” Flint Davidson looked at you — no, Flint Davidson looked through you — and his smile faded away.

He truly looked like a puppet now.

“The story goes that you were accused of having an affair with Jean Kirstein while you were married to his bandmate, Eren Yeager. And recently, you were caught cheating on your new husband, Reiner Braun, with your manager, Levi Ackerman. Now, I heard that Levi Ackerman allegedly released the photos of the affair himself. Is that true? And-And we aren’t here to judge you, I mean, you’re drop-dead gorgeous — isn’t she, folks? Who could stay away from her?”

Another round of applause erupted from the audience, but you couldn’t help but wonder how many attendees truly agreed with that statement, or were just mindlessly doing what the big, red, hidden APPLAUSE sign told them to do.

“I appreciate your kindness, and thank you for giving me an opportunity to just be honest and clear everything up,” you gave a small sigh, one filled with false regret. A damsel-in-distress kind of sigh.

Your next few statements weren’t truly your statements at all, but sweet lies drilled into your ventriloquist-dummy mind repeatedly over the last three days.

Who knew what would happen if you didn’t say what he wanted you to say.

You were just as much of a puppet as Flint Davidson.

And it had to be perfect. You had to be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“What Jean wrote in his song is regrettably true. I was having an affair with Eren’s bandmate, and Eren rightfully divorced me because of it. I’m just happy that Jean’s song was catchy, at least!” You laughed. The audience laughed with you. Flint Davidson laughed with you. It sounded like the theme song to the innermost circle of Hell — if it had one.

“When it comes to Levi Ackerman, I’m absolutely horrified that he would do something like this. You see, that night, I was drunk and upset. I had just heard about Jean’s song, and I was also the victim of a very serious break-in. Levi used my vulnerability to his advantage, and we made a huge mistake. And for him to leak the photos, well . . . I guess that was his way of trying to put himself in the spotlight. Working for famous people and not being that much of a famous person yourself must have made him jealous, and this was his only chance to truly get his name out there as a talentless individual.”

“I see.” Flint nodded along to your dishonest words. “And if I’m correct, you released a few record-breaking songs about your own experiences with Jean and Eren, am I right? How do you think they felt about that?”

“You’re absolutely correct, and I have no idea how they felt. I haven’t spoken to either one of them in a long time, which might be for the best.”

Flint Davidson smiled cruelly.

“Well, why don’t we bring them out and see how they feel, shall we?” “Everyone, please welcome the two members of Eldian Devils — Jean Kirstein and Eren Yeager!”

Even when your stiff body became heavy with dread, your face couldn’t reflect the absolute terror you felt. Instead, a soft gasp escaped from between your slightly parted lips. It was a pleasant, little gasp, as if to say “Oh, wow! Flint, you didn’t!”

As the audience erupted into yet another round of nauseating applause, the two puppets walked out from backstage, imaginary strings belonging to CS Records controlling them, just as they controlled you.

“Welcome, boys! Welcome!” Flint greeted them both with a handshake. “Have a seat! Y/N won’t bite!”

Jean sat down next to you on the couch, and Eren sat down beside him.

Their choice of seating was intentional.

Neither one of them would look you in the eye, nor did they greet you.

That was also intentional.

You could only hope that the camera wouldn’t pick up on the gentle, yet staggering breaths blowing out from between your slightly quivering lips, as you tried to calm yourself down. If anyone noticed the way your hands were desperately trying to tremble, it could have been disastrous for you.

For all of you.

But the shaky breaths and jittery hands weren’t a result of nervousness. By now, far too many cameras, blinding lights, and gazing eyes have shined upon you for anything to make you nervous.

What was rushing through your veins right now was utter anger.

Only a devil like Connie Springer would put the three of you on stage like this, watching the show from backstage with his crew like a hawk stalking its prey, waiting for anyone to slip up and make a mistake.

It was all intentional.

And you had to be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

When Eren and Jean sat down, it was with a bit of a struggle, as if they were both old men with bad backs and wobbly knees. Their faces — which held radiant, fake smiles — were minimally covered with makeup that was a tad bit different than the usual quick dust of powder that the majority of men received before going on live television.

You knew exactly what it was when the studio light briefly shined upon their faces from a very specific angle as they adjusted themselves among the cushions.

The makeup was meant to cover their bruises.

Although your face didn’t show anything but an amused grin, you were deeply confused.

For Eren, it made sense.

He had gotten on Connie’s bad side quite often.

But Jean was Connie’s favorite little tool at the moment. It made no sense for Connie to hurt him, and he wouldn’t leave his face covered in fresh bruises right before forcing him to go on the show.

Even The Irritable Eren didn’t receive any recent beatings for the sake of this interview, and his current bruises were about a week old.

But, truth be told, it didn’t matter.

Not one mindless human being who would watch tonight’s show would notice the covered bruises, and if they did, they simply wouldn’t care. Not their problem.

“It isn’t unusual for troublemaking rockstars to get into fights and injure themselves,” everyone would think.

“So,” Flint paused, his voice snapping you back to your overwhelming reality. “The three of you are finally here together — how does it feel? Be honest!”

No one replied immediately. The three of you simply continued to grin like malfunctioning robots, hoping that someone else would speak, and give the perfect response.

“Well, you definitely surprised me tonight, Flint.” The calmness that masked your true anger could have fooled anyone.

The perk of being a professional liar.

“I’m sorry for catching you off guard, Y/N,” he lied, “but I believe everyone is curious to know about the tension between the three of you. Some have even said that all of your public behavior is nothing more than a publicity stunt, but I don’t think I believe that!”

“It’s not a publicity stunt, I can tell you that much,” Jean suddenly spoke up, giving an amused smirk, which then became a serious frown. “Everything that happened between the three of us was real. As much as I wish it was fake for the sake of guilt and regret, it’s not.”

“You heard it here first, folks!” Facing the crowd as they briefly applauded — surely with sore, red hands at this point — Flint then looked over at the one person who hadn’t spoken yet.

“And what do you have to say about all of this, Eren? Do you plan on listening to Y/N’s song about you? Does it depend on the genre?”

Although you, Jean, and the audience laughed softly, Eren did not.

In fact, he didn’t even bother with faking a smile anymore. Instead, he simply sat there, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch as his hand covered his mouth, and he gave the host a death stare.

A death stare was against the pleasant personalities he demanded all of you to have.

A death stare would lead to trouble.

A death stare would lead to unapproved rumors.

More articles.

More embarrassment.

More punishments.

Jean must have realized that too, as he suddenly spoke up once again, doing anything to get everyone’s attention away from Eren and his bad attitude.

“To be honest, I think all of our actions are a result of our love for each other. I know that might sound crazy, but we all care about each other, which is exactly why everyone reacted so strongly towards feeling betrayed.”

“So when this guy,” Flint paused, pointing at Eren as he spoke to Jean, “when this guy punched you in the face for sleeping with his wife, you mean to tell me it was because he cares about you? You and I have different definitions of caring about someone, buddy!”

Jean started to crack his knuckles in his lap. He chuckled nervously.

“Me and Eren were . . . are best friends,” looking at the audience with sympathy-seeking eyes, Jean showed everyone why he deserved to have an Oscar or two. “As his best friend, I betrayed him. Someone he cared about betrayed him. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

The cheers following Jean’s statement dwindled once Flint turned his attention back to Eren again.

“You’re awfully quiet, Eren,” He said with a hint of a playful, teasing tone. “I’m sure everyone here would love to know what’s on your mind — right, folks? C’mon, Eren, tell everyone what you’re thinking! Surely you have more to offer than just allowing everyone to stare at that handsome face of yours!”

The thumping beat of your heart echoed in your ears so loudly, that you had to wonder if the microphone would be able to pick it up. The tension in the studio was so thick, that a knife could slice through it.

Eren was on the verge of ruining everything. And you couldn’t do anything. Anything except smile, sit there like a little doll and pray.

“D-Don’t worry about him, Flint. He’s just trying to look cool and make his fangirls go crazy,” you joked, giving a playful wave of your hand.

“Really? Is that all I’m doing, Y/N?”

Eren’s words were harsh enough to make you flinch, although truly, his anger wasn’t directed towards you. Even so, it was the first time you had heard that mesmerizing voice of his in such a long, long time.

“Care to explain what you mean, Eren?” The host leaned forward. The cameras zoomed in. The audience members didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly.

Jean slickly knocked his knee against yours. Later on, your shippers would more than likely create edits of that little moment and post it on every social media platform available, calling it romance; “it must have been a sign, right?” They would tweet.

But you knew better. He was signaling you. Warning you.

If anyone knew Eren, it was Jean.

And he knew that his bandmate was about to ruin everything.

But you could only smile, sit there like a little doll, and pray.

“No, I don’t care to explain, Flint,” Eren started. “You get millions of viewers every night. Millions of people across the world tune in to watch your shitty little show. And yet, you dragged us down to Las Vegas, and tricked us into coming here together, all so you could get even more people to watch your show in hopes that some sort of drama would break out. Jean and I didn’t know Y/N would be here until we were backstage. Y/N didn’t know until now. Who the hell toys with people like that? You’re a shitty host and a shitty person.”

And with that, Eren pushed himself off of the couch, and the rockstar left the stage.

Flint Davidson tried to play it off with a laugh, but even a professional puppet like him had a spec of a human soul lingering around somewhere inside of him, and that humanlike part of him faced the audience with an awkward grin.

“Well, unfortunately, that’s all the time we have, folks! Thank you all for . . .”

You could no longer hear much of what anyone dared to say after Eren left the stage. And, based on the fear gracing Jean’s pale face as he glared at the ground with wide, worried eyes, he couldn’t hear anything either.

Most of Eren’s words were truthfully not meant for Flint Davidson. They were meant for Connie Springer, as he was the one who put this show together, and Flint was nothing more than a happy pawn. It didn’t matter though, as no one aside from you, Eren, Jean, and the energetic host knew that little fact.

And, of course, Connie Springer, who was waiting outside of the private guest exit with his crew.

The unusually chilly wind sent an unpleasant shiver up your spine once you stepped through the back door with Jean and Eren. Typically, when leaving an event, you were hurriedly escorted out of the building and into some sort of car before fans and paparazzi could catch a glimpse of you.

However, no one seemed to be around, and while there were cars parked on the curb, the doors weren’t being opened by some sort of bodyguard with a driver ready to pull off. Instead, Connie and his men — who were all dressed sharply in black — stood in front of the cars.

They blocked them.

“You guys enjoy pissing me off, don’t you?” Connie smiled, and it was a grin that was colder than the uncomfortable nightly breeze.

“Eren was the one who-”

“Shut the hell up,” Connie interrupted Jean, glaring at the musician as his grin faded away. “I watched that shit. I know what happened.”

“Eren? Got anything to say?” Connie looked at Eren, then darted his eyes over to you. “Y/N? What about you?”

The group of men standing behind Connie moved. They hovered around the three of you, and hundreds upon hundreds of behavioral lessons were instantly forgotten, as your body stiffened once your name fell from between Connie’s lips.

What were you supposed to say? Jean was right, it was Eren’s fault.

You were perfect.

Aside from the swirling wind, it was otherwise silent, and in Connie’s mind, silence meant that he was being ignored. And, it was as if his minions shared the same thought process as him, as one of them took a step in your direction.

Suddenly, Eren grabbed your wrist.

Your ex-husband swiftly pulled you behind him, putting himself in between you and the pissed-off man like a human shield.

That protective grip of his sent a wave of warmth throughout your body, and his large hand didn’t let go of your wrist as he spoke.

“Just do what you always do, Connie,” Eren scowled. “Get your guys to beat me up. I don’t give a damn. Just leave her alone. She didn’t do anything wrong, so stay the hell away from her.”

Connie tossed his head back with a sigh before he spoke.

“This is becoming a routine, huh?”

“Yeah,” Gripping your wrist even tighter — but not enough to hurt — Eren turned to face the two bigger men standing threateningly to the left of him. “Let’s see how many of these bastards I bring down with me this time.”

One of them stepped closer yet again. Eren released your wrist. He needed his hands to fight, after all.

Jean reached out, grabbing your arm, pulling you away from the potential fight that was destined to break out as soon as Connie gave his men the approval to hit Eren. It would come at any second, in the form of a verbal response, a nod, or the raise of his hand.

Everyone waited for it.

As two men stepped closer to Eren, two more of those silent, mindless souls hovered behind you and Jean.

But, when Connie finally said something, it wasn’t any sort of indication to fight. He gave the man standing closest to him an odd order instead.

“Bring me Eren’s phone.”

The man nodded, opening the door to Connie’s red Ferrari. Hidden in one of the compartments of his vehicle was a little bag. A bag that held not only Eren’s phone, but yours as well, and every single member of Eldian Devils.

He took them a while ago.

Punishment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eren called out, watching one of the silent men hand Connie his phone.

Connie simply didn’t answer. Instead, he turned on Eren’s device and started scrolling through his contacts list.

“Hey, look!” Connie suddenly laughed, raising the phone to one of his men. “It’s Eren when he was a teen. See the short hair? He was a piece of shit back then too.”

Then, Connie smirked at Eren.

“I bet you haven’t seen your momma since you took this photo, have you?”

“What are you-”

Eren instantly stopped speaking once Connie clicked on a phone number and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Mrs. Yeager!”

Connie smiled as he stared right into Eren’s eyes. Eren tried to approach Connie, but those men of his were as strong as they were silent, and they quickly grabbed him and forced him down to his knees, one of them covering his mouth with their gloved hand.

And they wouldn’t let go of him.

All Eren could do was sit there in utter confusion, watching as Connie chatted with his beloved mother.

“Yeah, it’s Connie, sorry for calling you from Eren’s phone . . . Been a long time, I know, I know . . . I’m just hanging out with Eren and wanted to see how you were doing.”

Connie paused as Carla responded to him. Then, he said, “that’s good. Hey, listen — mind if I come over? You were kinda like my momma too, and it’s been too long since I last saw you.”

Eren tried to lunge at him again, but he couldn’t move an inch. He could only listen. Connie started to move around casually, looking at his watch and staring at the ground.

“Yes ma’am, I’d love a plate, c’mon now, you know me . . . Bring Eren? I’ll ask, but he’s not feeling well, so it might just be me. That alright? Okay . . . I’ll see you soon.”

Once the phone call ended, one of Connie’s men removed their hand away from Eren’s mouth. And Eren didn’t waste a second before he angrily said to Connie, “what the hell are you doing?”

“How many times are you gonna ask me that? The fuck does it look like I’m doing?” Connie grimaced with annoyance and put his hands in the pockets of his black dress pants. “I’m going to your momma’s house. You see, I forgot you’re not like most people. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to hurt your ass, you’ll never listen. But if I hurt your family-”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard. If you lay a hand on anyone in that house, I’ll kill you myself.” Eren’s threat fell on deaf ears.

Surely Connie was bluffing.

That’s what you thought, at least.

Until Connie started walking towards his car.

“Don’t you fucking do it . . . Don’t fucking do it,” Eren shouted again, trying his hardest to shake himself loose, all while you stood there like a frightened statue.

“Connie, listen to me.” Jean took a hesitant step forward as if he were approaching a dangerous wild animal.

A wild animal might have been safer.

“You’re going too far, alright? That woman has always treated us like family growing up. Don’t do this, please.”

“Oh, I get it.” Connie started to open his car door, but he paused, staring a hole into Jean. “So, you can speak up for him, but you couldn’t speak up for me that day.”

His words had caught Jean off guard. That much was clear based on the sweat accumulating across Jean’s forehead.

What did Connie mean, exactly?

“I . . . that was years ago, Connie.” Jean swallowed thickly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Connie demanded. His tone was colder than it was earlier. He turned his attention towards his men, pointing at them as he gave orders like a true dictator.

“You two, take Y/N and Jean back to their own houses. You know what to do. And you two, make sure Eren doesn’t follow me. Keep him here for a while. Here,” Connie tossed one of the men Eren’s phone. “I’m gonna FaceTime you guys once I get there. I want Eren to watch.”

“Wait, Connie, please don’t do this, I’m begging you.” A tear rolled down Eren’s cheek, and he looked at Connie with the eyes of a broken man. After years and years of trying, Eren had finally lost his will to fight. “Please don’t hurt my mom. I’ll do whatever you want, okay? You fucking win. I won’t say shit like that on camera anymore, I’ll do whatever you want me to, just fucking torture me at this point, I don’t care, just don’t hurt my mom. Please, please don’t hurt her.”

“Damn. You’re pathetic, but I’m glad you’re learning, Eren.” Connie gave Eren a genuine, heartfelt smile, and at the sight of it, Eren sighed with relief.

“Too bad I already told her that I’m on the way.”

“No,” Eren’s eyes widened, and he thrashed around with all his strength, but it didn’t matter. Connie continued to get into his car as Eren tried to beg. “No, please-”

Suddenly, you spoke up.

“Going after Eren’s mom because you . . . because you aren’t strong enough to handle Eren himself is pathetic, Connie.” Your body trembled with fear, but you didn’t stop speaking, even when one of Connie’s men gripped your arm. “I-I mean, you’re even too much of a coward to beat him up yourself. You get other people to do it. Can’t handle yourself in a fair fight?”

“Hush, Y/N-”

“No, let her talk.” Connie interrupted Jean, and he stepped away from the car, making his way over to you, his eyes staring into yours. If looks could kill, you would have been a rotting corpse by now. “What are you trying to provoke me for?”

“I’m not trying to provoke you, I’m just stating the obvious.” Although you tried to maintain a confident tone, your voice was shaky.

“Ohhh,” Connie grinned. “You’re trying to make me believe that going after Eren’s family is a cowardly move so then I won’t do it, huh? And you only feel brave enough to do that because someone like you doesn’t have any real loved ones for me to hurt. That’s weird as hell.”

When you opened your mouth to respond — although, truly, you didn’t know what you would have said — Jean stepped closer to Connie, even daring to touch his old friend’s shoulder.

“Connie, listen. Eren knows you’re not playing around anymore, man. Just look at him, bawling like a baby. You broke him, alright? There’s nothing more you need to do. If he gets out of line again, then take it out on whoever you want, but for now, you’ve done enough. Marco . . . wouldn’t want you to treat us this way-”

Connie pulled his arm away from Jean.

He slammed his fist right into Jean’s jaw.

He watched his old friend fall to the ground as if it was nothing. And, when he pulled out his phone, which dinged from a new text message, he looked at his notification screen as if the bleeding man wasn’t worth any of his time anymore.

But, perhaps, the three of you had gotten lucky, because Connie smiled at the text message he had just received, and his anger melted away.

“Take all of them home. Maintain constant supervision. I wanna know where they go, who they speak to, what they eat for breakfast — Just tell me everything. Got it?” Connie ordered, walking towards his car. “And for Y/N, don’t let her leave her house at all. In fact, I don’t want her ass to leave her own bedroom unless I say so.”

“Understood, sir.”

Once again, Eren tried to pull away from the men holding him still once he heard Connie’s plans for you.

All he wanted to do was protect you.

To be with you.

But he couldn’t.

“Have a good night, guys. Get some rest, okay?” Connie said, darting his eyes between the three of you as his men dragged you all into the other cars parked around Connie’s.

As Connie closed his car door, the smile on his face didn’t fade away.

After all, the text message was from one of the many, many people under his command — an obedient little worker of his — who had successfully found Levi Ackerman’s location.

—

THREE DAYS LATER – PHOENIX, ARIZONA

“Here ya go,” Hange placed a ceramic frog mug down on the table in front of Levi, sweet steam circulating from the hot tea. “It’s Earl Grey, of course! The tea bags were getting kinda old, though. Been awhile since you last came over, just sayin’.”

“Sorry,” Levi mumbled, taking a sip of the pleasantly bitter beverage. Regardless of his dry, emotionless response, a lump of guilt started to form in his throat.

Despite being in the military with the eccentric, four-eyed genius, and considering them to be a close friend after so many years, he had hardly bothered to make the drive over to Arizona to visit them.

He truly didn’t realize how much time had passed until Hange’s three-legged cat hopped into his lap, and the precious animal was noticeably older and adorably chubbier.

“So, it takes your life getting ruined for you to come pay your dear ol’ friend a visit, hmm?” Hange pulled out one of the mismatched chairs at their kitchen table — all four seats were drastically different from one another in terms of shape, color, and size, — and they sat down with their own frog mug, filled to the brim with coffee.

Smelling the fresh coffee beans only made Levi feel even more guilty, as they famously despised Earl Grey tea, only purchasing it for Levi to drink whenever he came to visit them in their colorful, cluttered apartment.

“My life isn’t ruined.” Levi paused, shifting his eyes away from Hange.

“You sure about that?” Hange’s tone softened, their words laced with worry. “Your own home isn’t a safe place for you anymore. When it comes to your career, I know you have money in savings to fall back on, but I’m just being honest here; it’s rare for an entertainment manager to become so rich and successful as it is, ya know? And now . . .”

“Now I’ve lost everything. My reputation is ruined. I shitted on my own luck. That’s what you wanna say, right?”

“Oh, c’mon, give me a break, I-I wasn’t gonna say it that harshly!” Hange put their hand up defensively.

“Yeah, well,” Levi took a sip of his tea, “I’m suing the shit outta whoever really leaked those photos. I bet it’s that goddamn stalker who keeps coming after Y/N. She thinks it’s Armin. I don’t trust that new husband of hers. I’m not saying Reiner’s the one stalking her — the phone calls started before they even met, and the I miss you note wouldn’t make sense, but still. I don’t trust him one bit. And if Connie makes her get on live T.V. and spread lies about herself again, I’ll kill that bastard.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before,” raising their eyebrows, Hange looked at Levi with wide, brown eyes.

Of course, he wouldn’t care about the lies being spread about him.

Of course . . .

“Seen me like what?”

Hange slurped loudly on their hot coffee, darting their eyes back and forth between Levi and the table.

“Spit it out, Hange.”

“Alright, jeez,” Hange paused, taking a moment to think before they spoke, as saying the wrong thing could result in Levi flicking their forehead.

It had happened more times than the rowdy cat lover wanted to admit.

“I was just flabbergasted when I woke up that one morning and saw what the media was accusing you of. I mean, Levi? Levi Ackerman? My Levi Ackerman? I knew you wouldn’t take pictures and leak them yourself — you’re not that much of a peabrain, right? — but then again, you’d have to be a complete idiotic fool to sleep with a famous, married client. Either a fool, or madly in love.”

Swallowing down the last few sips of his beverage, Levi sat the mug down on the table, the practically undrinkable droplets of warm black liquid forming a ring around the bottom of the inside.

“I was drunk,” he claimed. “That’s all it was.”

Hange’s cat jumped off of Levi’s lap and skedaddled across the floor.

Levi stared into Hange’s eyes, and although it was only for a few solid seconds, it felt like an eternity — plus, an extra day — had passed before Hange broke eye contact, and sighed heavily.

“Fineee,” Propping their elbow up on the table, they rested their chin in the palm of their hand, giving a small pout as they did so. Then, suddenly, Hange perked up. “Oh, I almost forgot! Someone dropped this off for you.”

Hange reached into the pocket of their old blue jeans and pulled out a folded envelope.

“You would fold an envelope in half. You’ll fold anything that isn’t laundry, won't you? I bet you also cut sandwiches right down the middle instead of diagonally, too.” Levi glared at them, but there was a hint of playfulness behind his tone. Grabbing the disgracefully folded, white envelope, Levi inspected it closely as he said, “What is this? Who’s it from?”

“Don’t ask me, I haven’t got a clue. Found it sitting on the ground outside of my door, and it had your name on it. I was gonna open it, but as you can see, I decided not to be nosy for once! I doubt you’d get any interesting mail anyways, probably just a bill or something.”

“Doesn’t make sense. No one knows I’m here except for you. How the hell would . . .”

The front of the envelope didn’t have Hange’s address on it, any sort of sender’s address, or a name. It lacked a stamp as well.

It clearly wasn’t mailed to their apartment and left on the ground by some incompetent mailman. The only thing displayed on the flat packaging item was Levi’s name, written neatly across the front.

Once Levi started to slowly open the envelope, Hange sighed and sluggishly got up from their chair.

“Well, I’m gonna get some more coffee,” they announced, grabbing their mug, along with Levi’s. “I’ll refill your tea too. You gotta use up as many of those tea bags as possible while you’re here! Ohhh, actually, I could just send the entire thing with you once you leave, heaven knows I’m not gonna drink any of it . . .”

As Hange rambled on, Levi unfolded what appeared to be a letter, and he read it silently.

—

LEVI,

We at CS Records surely hope that you are enjoying your quality time with your friend, Hange. As you can see, we know where you are. We know what you have done. Sexual intercourse with a client is entirely against our represented morals and agreements, and leaking photos of your disgraced activity to the public media for attention is despicable.

Because of your actions, we must take action.

Consider this letter as an official notice of your immediate termination.

We highly recommend getting comfortable on your friend’s couch, as we will stop at nothing to drive you into abject poverty and homelessness for your behavior.

To address another issue on behalf of Jean Kirstein, we are well aware of the violence you have inflicted upon our respected artist.

For hurting someone we care for, we will now hurt someone you care for, starting with the person who is currently housing you — the person who gave you this letter.

Sincerely,

CS RECORDS

—

Hange turned their attention away from their frog teapot, glancing back at Levi with a gentle smile.

“Everything okay?” They questioned innocently.

Levi didn’t respond. He didn’t move an inch.

He only sat there, staring at the letter.

—

TWO WEEKS LATER - LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

You had to be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

The stars in the night sky sparkled especially bright for your special album release party. Oh, how pretty the sky was. You hadn’t seen it in a while. Opening the curtains to your bedroom window was prohibited.

Even as you walked down the stunning red carpet leading up to a venue owned by CS Records — where your celebration would take place — you couldn’t take your eyes off of those glistening stars.

They were brighter than the hundreds of flickering flashes from the cameras belonging to the paparazzi, who screamed and shouted your name to get your attention.

Even some fans had managed to press themselves against the velvet stanchion ropes on each side of the red carpet.

Your devoted admirers screamed your name in hopes that you would simply notice them, waving their phones and pens in the air, wishing to get lucky enough to take a photo with you or grab your autograph.

But only the stars had your attention tonight.

“And, as you can see, ladies and gentlemen, F/N L/N had finally arrived with Connie Springer to the release party of her new album, Heartbreaker, and she looks absolutely stunning! Her silk, champagne-colored, bodycon dress was designed by Fernand Appell himself . . .” The Vogue reporter excitedly glanced back and forth between the red carpet and the camera in front of her.

But she had no idea.

None of them did.

About what was truly happening to you.

Connie Springer’s hand touched your lower back like a true gentleman, and his lips graced the shell of your ear.

“Pose,” he whispered. He warned.

Your artificial smile appeared mechanically, and you were no longer staring at the night sky, but at the cameras all around you.

Walk elegantly. Give a wave or two. Smile. Laugh softly. Be perfect.

Walk elegantly. Give a wave or two. Smile. Laugh softly. Be perfect.

Walk elegantly. Give a wave or two. Smile. Laugh softly. Be perfect . . .

—

Classy black and red decorations were spread tastefully throughout the massive, beautiful room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. A statue of a big, black, broken heart served as a centerpiece, surrounded by gorgeous red roses, all of it inspired by your album’s theme. There was a dance floor, a bar, and an overwhelming amount of chatty celebrities.

“Have some fun,” Connie looked down at you, removing his hand from your back. “Tonight sets the tone for how you’ll be treated in the future, okay?”

A sparkle of hope twinkled within your soulless eyes. Did he truly mean it? If tonight went well, you might be allowed to have a bit more freedom? Just a bit?

You nodded eagerly like a little kid agreeing to behave with the hopes of having ice cream.

Connie smiled, and he walked away, headed towards the bar with a handful of his celebrity friends.

—

For the next two hours, you behaved like the flawless being you were conditioned to be. You greeted everyone kindly. Gave a “thank you” speech. Sat down for a small interview.

Everything was going well. Perfectly.

Making your way to the bathroom, your heels clicked against the marbled floor of the deserted lobby a good distance away from where your party was held.

Far enough away for the music and chatter to sound muffled.

Suddenly, you stopped walking.

As far as you could tell, no one was around.

It was just you, an empty receptionist desk, closed doors, big windows, and an elevator.

Perhaps, if you could just find some sort of exit . . .

Your thoughts were interrupted once a large hand grabbed your arm. Naturally, you assumed it was one of Connie’s men, but when you turned around, you stared up into the worry-filled eyes of your husband.

“Reiner?”

“Oh my god, baby,” Wrapping his arms around you, your teary-eyed husband pulled you in for a hug. The embrace was warm — so, so warm.

His comforting, faint, woody scent made you release a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He was so, so warm.

“I’ve missed you so damn much,” Reiner cupped the side of your face with his large hand, holding your head against his chest. “You look so . . . so miserable. What are they doing to you, baby?”

As his fingertips gently stroked your skin, you thought, for only a moment, that perhaps, you were worth touching.

Worth holding.

It was Reiner.

Reiner Braun.

He was holding you.

And he was so, so warm.

Your trembling arms held onto him as tightly as you could. If you let go, he could fade away. He could vanish.

“Are . . . Are you really here, Reiner?”

Reiner’s heart ached like someone had pierced him through the chest with a spear, as he could feel your brokenness. He could hear it in your voice.

His tears splattered against the top of your head. How could a company be so cruel? How could anyone treat his baby this way?

Reiner moved your head away from his chest, but only so he could softly smash his lips against yours. So much time had passed since the last time he had seen you, his beautiful wife.

So much time had passed since he was able to hold you like this. To feel your perfect lips against his.

No matter how much it hurt when you betrayed him, he would always love you, even the flawed pieces of you.

His soft lips passionately moved against yours in a way that told you just how much he loved you. And, for once, you understood what fairytale writers were talking about when they came up with the concept of princes awakening their beloved princesses with a kiss, as Reiner’s lips against yours gave you the one thing you needed most.

Hope.

“I’m gonna get you outta here,” Reiner pulled away, and he stroked your tear-soaked cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m gonna get you away from these people and out of this city. We can go to Tennessee again and be happy and safe, and we’ll never come back here, I promise. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Reiner was wearing an expensive black outfit that allowed him to blend in with every other guest. Thanks to his celebrity status — and him being your husband, of course — no one would question his attendance at your party. And he arrived with the goals of avoiding Connie and his pawns — and finding you.

But was it really possible? Was it really him? Or was it a trick? A cruel joke your mind was playing on you, to make you think that you could truly be happy? Be free?

It seemed too good to be true, but yet, as you hugged him again, pressing the side of your head against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat.

He was so, so warm. Everything else was always so cold, but he was so, so warm.

And he wasn’t fading away.

When you cried this time, there wasn’t anything perfect about it. It was raw, real, and it soaked the front of his shirt, but he didn’t mind one bit. He only held you — held his miserable wife.

“I think he’s real,” you whispered to yourself. “Please let him be real . . .”

“Come on, we’re leaving right now,” Reiner kissed you again, but briefly.

And you smiled. It was a real, genuine, grin of relief. You had almost forgotten how to do something like that.

As Reiner grabbed your hand and started to guide you to the back door, guide you to freedom, you couldn’t help but picture sitting at the dining table in Reiner’s childhood home, having a warm meal in the company of normal, loving people. Maybe Reiner’s mom could make peach cobbler again.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Reiner halted his footsteps.

Connie and his men were guarding the door.

Of course.

Happiness was too good to be true.

You could hear Reiner trying to argue, but it didn’t matter.

You could see him trying to fight against the men that separated you two, but it didn’t matter.

You felt pathetic for even hoping for happiness for even a minute. That was why you didn’t call out for Reiner when they dragged him out of the building.

That was why you didn’t fight against the men when they shoved you into a car, taking you back home.

—

You did an amazing job at the party.

Maybe that would be enough.

Maybe Connie would overlook everything else.

The two men who gripped both of your arms guided you through your front door, and Connie watched as they carried you to your bedroom.

But suddenly, you pulled against them, using what little strength you had to face Connie.

“No, no, this isn’t fair, I did great tonight until Reiner showed up,” You struggled against the two heavy men who tried to yank and grab you like you were nothing more than an animal who broke out of its cage. Your breathing became uneasy. “Connie, please, it wasn’t my fault — I was perfect.”

Breaking free from the tight grip of one of Connie’s men made you fall to the hard ground, a small yelp escaping your throat as your jewelry and heels clinked against your polished floor, your expensive dress tearing a bit at the bottom.

You looked up at Connie through your blurry vision, who casually stood there with his hands in his pockets. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto your trembling body and soaking the front of your dress.

“I’m sorry for all the times I embarrassed your company. Your reputation is very important, I-I understand. I was wrong, I was an idiot, and I’ve disrespected you multiple times, but believe me, I’ve learned my lesson, sir. I won’t–I won’t do-”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Connie yawned. “Put her back in her room.”

“No,” you cried.

The men reached down to grab your arms, and you tried. You really did. You pleaded. You struggled. But they started to drag you nevertheless.

“Please, Connie, don’t put me back in there, I’ll go-I’ll go back to New York, I’ll go back to the bakery, I’ll completely disappear from your life, I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t put me back in there, please don’t put me back in there, please don’t put me back in there-”

The door of your bedroom slamming shut abruptly cut off your begs and pleads.

The dark, luxurious room had quite a few places for you to sit, but you found yourself scooting your trembling body into the corner furthest away from the bedroom door.

Pulling your scraped knees to your chest, you sat there with your head down, the last of your tears falling from your bleary eyes, drying against your skin.

Who knew how long they’d keep you in here this time?

There was only one thing you could do if you ever wanted to see the sun again.

You had to be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect . . . perfect . . . perfect.

Perfect.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

The best way to earn trust is through time.

Apparently, it heals all wounds. Makes it easier for humans to forget the impact caused by the actions of other humans.

However, when it came to Connie Springer, he didn’t forget, nor did he forgive, but he rewarded.

He rewarded Jean and Eren for their good behavior by allowing them to have a little bit of freedom once again.

Instead of having someone constantly follow them around, he placed the two artists under curfew.

They could go wherever they wanted.

Do whatever they wanted.

Call whoever they wanted.

As long as they made songs that would surely break records, behaved decently while in the spotlight, and reported back to their homes by eleven P.M.

And, of course, listen and obey Connie’s every command.

Maybe that small bit of newfound freedom was a result of their complete loyalty and good behavior.

Maybe it was because Connie was busy ruining someone else’s life.

Either way, they certainly had more freedom than you.

Jean and Eren used their privileges to make their way to Armin’s house, as he wanted them to come over for a reason he wouldn’t give over the phone.

Eren was the last one to step through Armin’s front door, fashionably late as usual.

As he closed the door behind him with one hand, tugging off his jacket with the other, he noticed that not only were Jean and Armin sitting on the living room couch, but Levi and Reiner were there as well.

“What’s going on?” Eren asked.

“They . . .” Reiner gulped. He stood against the wall, staring at the ground with wide, exhausted eyes. Eren couldn’t see it at first, not immediately, but as he walked over to join Jean and Armin on the couch, he saw Reiner’s horrific black eye. Suddenly, a small fit of shocked, terrified laughter erupted from Reiner’s throat.

“Connie had someone go all the way to Tennessee. To my childhood home, where my . . . where my family lives. And they burned the place down. All because I tried to help my wife. She’s my wife — she’s mine.”

—

Thirty minutes had passed before Reiner was calm enough to tell everyone what had happened.

“I, uh . . .” Reiner smiled sadly. “I went to her album release party. I didn’t know what I was gonna do, but I needed to see her. I just . . . need her. I tried to get her out of there, but we didn’t even make it through the damn doors. These guards pulled me away from her and dragged me away. You can see what they did to my face after. Then, couple days later, my mom called me and told me that her house burned down. I was upset, but I didn’t think anything of it at first. Everyone made it out safely, and that place was pretty old. With all the cooking my mom does, I can’t say I was surprised when I heard it had caught on fire. But, later on, there was a package outside of my front door with nothing on it except for my name. It had divorce papers and pictures of Connie’s men setting the goddamn house on fire. Setting it on fire with my family inside . . . sleeping.”

“Shit, Reiner,” Jean said to the unfamiliar man. “I’m sorry that happened. I really am.”

“This was the safest place for all of us to meet,” Armin’s eyes darted between all of the other men. “That’s why I called all of you here. I was hoping that maybe . . . we could stop all of this.”

“I think Connie has been Y/N’s stalker the entire time,” Levi suddenly announced, standing in the middle of the living room with his arms folded across his chest. “He’s not as stupid as he looks. I bet the I miss you note was just to throw us all off. Even if they didn’t meet in person until after she started receiving phone calls, he had known about her well before then. She’s one of his artists, after all-”

“Slow down,” Holding out a hand, Eren interrupted Levi, frowning in confusion as he did so. “None of that makes sense to me.”

“Very few things make sense to you, Eren,” Glaring at him, Levi grumbled. “Shut up and listen. He’s holding her hostage and won’t let her go. If that isn’t a sign that, maybe, he’s been the one stalking her this entire time, then I don’t know what is. He obviously wants her all to himself. He made the two of you divorce her, and I bet he took those photos outside of my house and blamed it all on me for revenge. For touching something he wanted. You said it best, Jean. He’s not afraid to embarrass his company if it embarrasses us even more.”

“I hope he burns in Hell,” Eren clenched his jaw.

“I’d do anything to see the old Connie come back someday.” Jean looked at Eren with the saddest eyes, filled with nostalgia.

“Not being able to trust someone is the worst feeling in the world.” Reiner folded his arms, making eye contact with someone across the room.

Someone who was quieter than the rest.

“Reiner, by the way,” Levi paused, suddenly grabbing the blonde-haired man’s attention. “I’m sorry for sleeping with your wife. I don’t have any excuse. I hope you can forgive me for it someday.”

“It’s alright,” Reiner gave Levi a soft, heartfelt grin. “I mean it — I forgive you.”

Levi gave him a sad look. Then, a moment later, Jean spoke up.

“Does anyone have any ideas? On how to . . . free her? Free all of us?”

Jean’s question remained unanswered, a thick silence circulating the small living room.

“I’ve got one,” Levi said, looking at no one in particular. “It won’t free us, but it’ll free her. That’s all that matters to me.”

“What is it?” Eren frowned.

“Based on what I know, Connie doesn’t pay that much attention to his crew. I don’t even think he knows their names. It’s a gamble, but I bet if I asked a friend of mine to sneak into CS Records and pose as a bodyguard, no one would notice. And he could find a way to get her away from Connie. Get her somewhere safe.”

“That has got to be the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Eren lowered his head in defeat.

“How would he even get into that side of the building? It’s closed off to anyone who doesn’t have access, and going through the front entrance means that he’ll just get stopped by the receptionist. And how would he get her away from Connie when he doesn’t let her out of his sight?” Furrowing his brows, Jean took a sip of his water, wishing desperately that it was some form of alcohol.

“One of you idiots can let him into the private part of the building. You all still have access, or did you forget that little fact? And trust me, this man is a genius, and looks intimidating enough to pass as one of Connie’s men. He’ll figure the rest of it out on his own.”

“Sounds good to me,” Reiner said, giving Levi a nod. “I trust you, Levi.”

Levi nodded back, then looked at the other three men, who all nodded in agreement as well, although they did so hesitantly.

And with that, Levi pulled out his phone as he walked away, and dialed his old friend from his days in the military, Erwin Smith.

As they chatted privately in the kitchen, Jean pushed himself off of the couch and headed to the nearby bathroom. Reiner simply closed his eyes as he continued to lean against the wall. Eren looked over at Armin, staring at him curiously for a moment before he spoke.

“Hey,” Eren said softly. “You okay? You didn’t say much.”

“Yeah, I’m just . . .” Armin’s eyes didn’t meet his. “If this works, if we get her away from Connie, what then?”

“What do you mean?”

Armin clenched onto his mug of coffee a bit tighter, hugging it close to his body.

And his eyes still wouldn’t meet Eren’s, even as the frowning man stared at him.

“None of this changes the fact that you and everyone else are still under contract. If you try to fight against it, Connie will be well within his rights to sue. Not to mention, any case you could make about his cruel behavior won’t hold up in court thanks to his influence. He can ruin everyone’s lives. Take all of your money. Hurt your loved ones. Even kill . . . and no one would bat an eye. At the end of the day, he could do all of this to Y/N too, the very person we’re trying to save.”

“You don’t have to help us if you don’t want to, Armin.”

“Are you kidding me?” Armin smiled a bit, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If anyone should help, it’s me. Connie doesn’t have me under any contracts, and I don’t have anything to lose. No real money. No family. If I end up out on the street, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“You really are tougher than you look, huh?” A gentle smile graced Eren’s face as well, but it did reach his eyes. “I was wrong about you.”

“I was wrong about you too,” Armin sighed softly. “I mean, you must really love her if you’re willing to risk everything for her, right?”

“Yeah, but so does everyone else, clearly. Every single one of us knows what the risks are, but we’re still gonna try.”

“So, what happens if this does work? What happens if everyone manages to be freed from Connie’s grasp somehow, and it’s time for her to pick someone to be with?”

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.” Eren answered Armin’s question as casually as he could, but there was a hint of nervousness coating his tone, and Armin noticed.

“You’ve lived a pretty comfortable life, Eren. You’ve gone from being rich to being even richer. You could never write another song again and still live out the rest of your days in an abundance of wealth. Not to mention, you’re good-looking enough to have any girl you’d ever want. You don’t know what it’s like to walk around without a roof over your head, wondering where you’ll end up sleeping once nightfall comes. You haven’t had to choose between saving up money to buy yourself a meal so you won’t go to bed hungry, or buying medicine for your wounds so you can push through another work shift. So, I’m asking you once again: are you truly willing to risk everything for her, even if she might not pick you?”

“I am, Armin. You think I give a damn about the money? Cause I don’t-”

“Then what about your family? Mikasa? Your parents?”

Eren looked away from Armin as he said, “nothing’s gonna happen to them.”

“Well,” Armin stared down at the floor beneath his feet. “I admire your bravery.”

“Hey,” Jean suddenly spoke up as he walked into the living room, grabbing the attention of Eren, Armin, and Reiner. “ So, I know I . . . I know I really don’t have a shot with her anymore, but someone has to speak up about what we’re all thinking right now. What will the rest of us do when Y/N doesn’t pick us? We can’t all have her.”

“We have bigger things to worry about than which one of us she’ll pick,” Levi suddenly said as he walked back into the living room, shoving his phone in his pocket, “such as the fact that she’s with someone who’ll shoot anybody who looks at him the wrong way.”

“I know it’s selfish to worry about that when she needs our help — and, hell, we can’t even help ourselves — but, if we can get her away from Connie, won’t we all just go back to trying to win her affection? Besides, even if she does pick someone, are we all going to respect her decision, or are we just going to go right back to stealing her from each other?”

Jean’s question prompted another minute of silence yet again.

“We’ll worry about that when she’s safe,” Reiner suddenly said, opening his eyes to stare at the musician, who sat back down on the couch.

“Of course you’re not worried. You were with her last, and you’re not even completely divorced yet. You have every reason to think that she’d crawl back to you.” Jean frowned as he spoke.

“I am worried. She did cheat on me with Levi at the end of the day. You don’t do that to someone you truly love. Right, Eren?”

“Shut the hell up,” Eren glared at Reiner coldly. “What happened between her and Jean was just a mistake. If it wasn’t for Connie, we’d still be together.”

“Yeah?” Reiner said, glaring at Eren just as intensely. “Well, I could say the same thing.”

“Oh yeah? Did she fucking beg for you to forgive her like she did me?” Suddenly, Eren pushed himself off of the couch. “Or, was she just begging for Levi to fuck her-”

“Hey, cut it out,” Armin spoke with a hushed tone, getting off of the couch as well. “We shouldn’t fight among ourselves. We have to work together.”

“Why?” Eren turned away from Reiner and glared at Armin instead. Although his gaze had softened a bit, his words were still laced with anger. “Why do we have to work together, Armin?”

“Because it’s the smartest way to stop Connie. He can’t control all of you with his contracts, guns, and crew forever, and working together makes it more difficult for him to do that. And he can’t just . . . hold someone hostage. That’s cruel.”

“I’m not helping any of you.” Reiner’s sudden statement caught everyone’s attention. “Don’t get me wrong, you all seem like good people with good hearts, but Connie doesn’t have me under any contracts. If he wants to send his men after me again, fine. If he wants to kill me, fine. But every single one of you had something to do with this current situation. Armin, you brought her to Hollywood in the first place to try and make money off of her. Eren, you poisoned the mind of an innocent woman, making her think dishonesty and betrayal were good traits to have. Jean, you took advantage of her sadness to fulfill your own selfish needs. And Levi, as her manager, you failed to protect her, and by sleeping with her, you screwed her over more than anyone else. So, I’m going to help her no matter what it takes, but the rest of you are on your own. I’m sorry.”

Reiner walked out of Armin’s apartment without another word. A bit of guilt prickled at his heart, but he didn’t feel it nearly as much as he felt the overwhelming presence of distrust.

He had to trust his gut, and his gut told him that not everyone in that room could be trusted.

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

♡ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

♡ 𝐚/𝐧: 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤? 𝐈’𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @moonmalice @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan@beaniebanby @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @shinzouwoeren @anonymousme23 @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

[dilf-din]

“You have to let me go” and kastle bc i am a glutton for pain (it’ll be such a parallel for your “i can’t let you go” drabble) AHHHHHHH

Oh we want angst today!! What a very unusual order for my good friend Lissa!!

Please enjoy this reworked elevator scene MWAH

3. You have to let me go from this list

WC: 675

Frank had thought about this before. He’d be a liar to say he hadn’t. Her body pressed up against his. His broad hands holding her in place.

But it was never supposed to be like this. This was wrong.

Cold steel shoved under her throat as they shuffled towards the elevator, using the last reserves of their strength to get the hell out of there. Adrenaline could only get you so far. His body screamed at him to let her go. Even as an escape route for both of them, he hated being rough with her.

Karen stumbled backwards with him, following the heavy tread of his boots in her pumps now covered with ash and blood.

Frank took a deep breath and kicked the button to close the elevator door, releasing her not a millisecond after it closed, obscuring them from the team of men with their guns drawn. They fell away from each other to opposite corners with breaths coming heavily. Their bodies were still reeling from the blast. It made Karen’s ears ring so hard, she wasn’t sure it would ever stop. She also wasn’t sure if her lungs would ever feel clean again. Right now they were full of mechanical smoke and the smell of burnt flesh. A dozen showers wouldn’t be enough to wash that smell from her memory.

Karen threw her bag in the corner and swept her hair from her eyes, reaching out a feeble hand to feel for him, to grasp the only solid ground she knew.

The fleeting eye contact he gave her told her he was sorry. She hoped her nod would absolve him of any guilt. He saved her life for God’s sake. Pretending she was a hostage was barely a strike against him all things considered.

Karen lunged forward to pull the emergency stop switch, and Frank passed her gun back to her, still stumbling from the exertion.

Frank jumped up to knock a ceiling tile loose, craning his neck upward to judge the distance of the climb he was going to have to push himself through.

Karen finally found her voice again.

“Frank. Frank,” she called quietly, crossing the small gap between them and resting her hand on his bicep. She took in the shrapnel lodged in his arm, the blood pouring from his ear, and bit her lip hard to keep tears from spilling over.

All these new scars, all this spilt blood, all the carnage to keep her safe, keep her alive for one more day.

They locked eyes wordlessly, Frank’s gaze saying don’t mention it.

He dropped his forehead to rest against hers, and everything else went hazy, but not in the way it did after the aftershock of the explosion. This was something new entirely. Their mouths were inches apart.

His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, and she let out another shuddering breath.

“I’ll come with you. I-I can climb. We’ll go together,” she stuttered out.

Frank shook his head resolutely, “Not a chance.”

“I can’t let you go,” her voice was hoarse with smoke and longing, choked out by mortality laid bare.

“Karen,” his hands shifted to her shoulders and pulled her gaze to his, eyebrows raised so she knew he was serious, “You have to let me go. It’s the only way outta here.”

Tears tracked through the ash on her cheeks, and she wished she could stop her lip from trembling so she looked less like a baby deer in the sights of a rifle.

“What if I never see you again? What if this is it?”

“I promise, I will find you when this is all over. You have my word,” he pressed his forehead to hers on final time, before pulling away to disappear through the hole in the ceiling.

Karen felt like she was watching her heart walk into open fire with no bulletproof vest, and all she could do was hope it would return to her one day.

[90sbee]

The patrol is over

Leon S. Kennedy x Ashley Graham

2k words. Also on ao3

As Leon and Ashley await for the helicopter to take them to safety, Leon is slowly spiralling, full of concern still. It is then that a ghost from his past decides to visit him.

What can I say, I had this idea already and then I saw Leshley Week... It was like the perfect excuse to write and post this one. Also this fic is quite silly but, hey, I love writing Leon's pov. Also @lightning-hawke is a sweetheart and she made sure that this was readable. Everybody please thank you to this brave soldier who had to face my 3am delusional writing.

Content: All Leon's pov, angsty and sad but also. Cathartic. Ash is asleep the whole time cos baby needed a nap after all that. Spooning, protective!Leon.

Warnings: Hallucinations, anxiety. Mention of guns, knives, zombies. Sleep deprivation. And I think that's it? Yeah, this is actually SFW, for once, haha.

It’s been three hours. Maybe four. Perhaps five.

Leon can’t sleep. He has tried it, though, but his body is still running on adrenaline and anxiety and he doubts that he will actually get some rest today.

Whatever. He has had it worse.

Ashley is passed out on the bed, curled up into herself, softly snoring. Leon blinks, trying to keep his eyes open. Even if his body is exhausted, his mind is still rushing through all the different scenarios in which this could still go wrong, heart rattling inside his chest.

What if Luis was wrong? What if the Plagas is still inside them? What if he ends up falling asleep, body going slump on this old chair and when he wakes up, he has hurt her?

God. Such idea gives him goosebumps, and he sits even farther from the bed.

What if instead, it is her? What if Ashley opens her eyes and tries to attack him?

Leon eyes the knife on the nightstand, the guns on the floor.

He knows he wouldn’t use any weapon against her, anyway. But if she hurt anyone, he’d be responsible.

God. Fuck responsibilities and guilt. It would’ve meant he had failed.

His blood runs cold then.

A failure. Assigned on what was, probably, the most important mission in his life. The president’s daughter involved, and what was supposed to be one of the top agents in the country, ruining everything. Returning a shadow of a woman, a timebomb.

Leon hides his face in his hands for a while, trying to catch his breath.

He knows he is spiralling.

He has to keep some faith: faith in Ashley, faith in Luis.

In himself, even if he is not used to it.

He looks at her, pursing his lips.

She breathes so calmly. Expression soft, features finally having some well-deserved rest. She is so gorgeous too. A soul too kind for him. He feels guilty for refusing to accept her proposal, though he is aware that being her bodyguard would have never actually been possible.

He blushes slightly, knowing that she at least wanted his company for a little longer. Maybe he is not so useless after all. She had also asked him to hold her to sleep, but he had simply shaken his head. “You’ll be fine, I promise. You’ll probably have a better rest taking up the whole bed”.

He sighs, crossing his arms. Leon is not sure how long it will take until the helicopter arrives. He hopes it is soon, because his head hurts and he feels hungry but he can’t leave her side and he definitely doesn’t trust the police officers next door.

No, scratch that.

He wishes the helicopter never arrives.

Because that means it is all over.

His gaze softens as he looks at her, feeling his heart pulling at its strings. For a moment, he considers it. A life with her. Visiting her at the White House. Maybe indeed fighting to accept the bodyguard position, his hand on her back as he keeps her safe once more, the sound of her laugh. The idea of getting acquainted with her shampoo brand, learning her favourite colour, kissing her forehead.

He is spiralling again, but this time in a more dangerous direction. Leon cracks his knuckles, yawning.

There is no point into wasting time thinking of all this. He can’t afford to lose footing in reality. And the reality is forcing him to remember that only a few hours they had both been fighting a Plagas, and he can’t be completely sure that the coast is clear. The mission isn’t over until she is back home, until they both reach American ground.

His foot starts hitting the floor quickly, as his headache gets even worse. He has to keep himself awake, he can’t lose focus.

At any given point Ashley could wake up and look at him with those soft doe eyes and ask anything, anything from him and, god, he’d give her the world, but first… But first he has to make sure that they’re both safe.

She’s make him feel like a worthy prince.

He can’t lose the princess for being careless.

He feels thirsty but he doesn’t even want to move his eyes away from her. His heart picks up when he thinks her chest stops moving up and down, but he realises it is his mind playing tricks on him as she sighs again.

Fuck. He is really losing his shit. He’s been trained for this crap. He barely sleeps anyway.

He curses in a whisper and looks down, grabs the water bottle next to his foot and sits down again.

That’s when he notices there is someone else in the room.

How? How would that be possible? There is no fucking way. It takes him just a second to fucking comprehend what is going on, but in an instant he has his knife on his fist, standing up as he approaches the figure, ready to attack the stranger.

The knife doesn’t hit anything.

Leon stills his movements then, realising that he recognises the face in front of him: the dirty-bloodied uniform, the stupid toothy smile, the look of hope in his eyes.

It’s him. The ghost of his younger version, the one from Raccoon City, stands before him.

“Fuck off,” Leon groans. He knows now that he is hallucinating. “Go away,” he pleads, in a growl, sitting down once more. His fucking head feels like about to explode.

“Buddy, I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” answers the more excitedly voice.

Leon considers replying, but he doesn’t want to wake Ashley up. The poor thing has already gone through too much, the least she needs at the moment is the man that is supposed to keep her safe having a full-on discussion with himself.

Fucking insane. He hides his face in his hands.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, that’s for sure. He’s gone through it all: hallucinations for being sleep-deprived, sleep paralysis after the most excruciating missions.

Most of the times it’s not even monsters, or zombies. Most times it’s people he knew: Annette, Ada a couple of times too. Last time it was Marvin, his body bloody and his eyes white as he swears he could hear his cries of pain still.

He wonders if maybe Luis will join as well, sometime, another painful reminder of his failures.

But himself? This was new.

“What the fuck do you want?” he mumbles. It Is stupid, Leon knows that. But perhaps by talking to this ghost of himself he could get rid of it faster, make sure he can go back to guard Ashley.

“Heh, I think it is obvious what you want,” the high-pitched voice replies. Leon looks up a moment, seeing the rookie sitting on the floor next to the bed, pointing at Ashley.

“Very funny,” Leon groans.

“What? Are you gonna deny it? I’m literally you.”

“Just, shut up.”

Surprisingly, that works. When Leon looks up once more, the figure isn’t there. He yawns, rubbing his temple. Maybe he is gone, for real. Maybe his mind will stop playing tricks on him now. He resumes his watch, his whole attention directed towards Ashley.

He is not even sure what time it is now, but he hopes it won’t be too long. At this point, he is being more of a nuisance than an actual help, a real protection for her. He knows he will have to sleep soon.

Not yet, though. Not fucking yet. He has to fucking hold on, try to keep it together.

“Hey, maybe you should get some actual sleep,” the voice suddenly interrupts him, now coming from next to him.

Leon almost stumbles from his chair, heart racing.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he half-shouts, and immediately purses his lips, embarrassed.

The rookie, the fucking rookie, sitting down next to him.

“Sorry, just trying to help,” he mumbles.

Leon shakes his head. He doesn’t want to say anything else. He is sure he almost woke Ashley up. He decides to acknowledge this presence, since it is becoming quite clear that it is not leaving for now.

“What do you want? Don’t fucking say Ashley, I swear to God,” he whispers, ashamed.

“Well, you’re the one that should know that. Your brain is literally hallucinating me at this point.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I can’t sleep yet,” he replies, crossing his arm as he stands up, trying to walk around the room a little, forcing his body not to pass out.

“You look incredibly nervous, dude,” his younger version chuckles, seemingly amused.

“I’m not.”

“Why are you walking around, then?”

“Well, someone has to make sure the president’s daughter doesn’t die on my watch. I’d say that’s some pretty big responsibility,” his heart is about to get out of his chest, and he is sweating.

The headache is now deeper, more annoying.

“She is safe now, Jesus Christ. Give yourself some credit, man.”

“She is not,” Leon suddenly replies.

“She is. Don’t you trust Luis? Do you think he would have lied to you?”

That does stop him in his tracks. Perhaps the rookie has a point. Leon nods, slowly. In the darkness of the room, he looks at his arms. The veins are normal still. He hasn’t had any weird visions since they got the Plagas expelled.

Well, except for the unpleasant vision that his own mind conjures. Maybe even more annoying than Lord Saddler’s ones.

He doesn’t acknowledge the rookie, though, but he comes back to sit on the chair.

“How many hours has it been now?” this ghost insists.

“I dunno.”

“You do know.”

God. He didn’t remember his younger voice being that annoying. Leon inhales, trying to calm himself down.

“Five hours,” he replies after a moment.

“If any of you were still infected, don’t you think the Plagas would have acted up by now? Also, Lord Saddled is dead now. There is no one controlling the Plagas now. All the Ganado died, remember?”

Leon hates that the little kid is right.

“I guess that’s true,” Leon admits.

The rookie laughs.

“She is fine. You don’t need to keep watching over her like a creep. I mean, not that we are being creepy…”

Leon interrupts himself: “Just go to the point, man”.

The rookie looks up at him, glittering eyes full of hope and a gentle small on his face.

“Look, I thought I was the rookie here, but you’re being a whole amateur now,” he stands up, in silence. “The patrol is over, rookie”.

Leon looks at himself. That shadow of himself, too full of hope and of light. He blinks, still processing the rookie’s words… His own words, echoing from and inside his head.

The patrol is over.

Fuck.

He slumps on the chair, eyes welling up with tears. For a moment, he lets himself cry in silence, under the soft sound of Ashley’s breathing. He breaks down a little, feels pity for himself, as well as relief. He dries off his tears with his palm, trying not to be too much of a mess in case she wakes up. He should be strong still. He needs to be.

By now, the headache is unbearable and his eyes hurt, a combination of exhaustion and the tears. But he knows it’s true: they’re both safe. He saved her. Ashley is safe. And even if he can’t have her, if this story ends in a few hours, he can still breathe without regrets. He can even make sure that their last memories together are something pleasant, something nice and comforting.

Leon tries to calm his breathing. He looks up, still curious as to whether the old presence is still there, but not anymore.

No more ghosts in the room. Just Ashley and him now.

With heavy steps he moves towards the bed, dizzy by now. He lies down on the bed and allows himself to breathe against Ashley’s shoulder, timidly holding her from behind. He grips her body close to his, knowing this is the only and last time he’ll have this chance. And even if she is half-asleep, Ashley sighs, content on her sleep, as Leon closes his eyes, finally allowing himself to rest.

The patrol is over and so is their story. But for a while, they can still lie close together, in the dark. Both finally safe, at last.

My brain actually wanted to be mean and make it Marvin instead of Rookie Leon but you know what. I don't need to break my heart like that SO much. Let Leon be angry at himself, it's fun, lol.

[misguidedasgardian]

From the Ashes (II)

II. Mother's little helper

MASTERLIST

Summary: The situation with John is still pretty rocky, lucky for you, Djinns had been said to grant your wishes 

Pairings for this chapter: Dean x reader, John x reader (you'll understand)

Warnings: Supernatural (and all that comes with it), monsters of all kinds, pyrokinesis, cursing, murder, child endangerment, impersonating of law enforcers, guns, mentions of virginity loss, birth, blood drinking, might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 2,9 k

Notes: I re-wrote the first one

2001, Jackson Hole, Wyoming

You woke up with a smile on your face, it was an exciting day after all, you almost jump out of bed, energized by the smell of breakfast, you could hear your mother singing in the kitchen downstairs. You wanted to jump to the first floor but you knew she wouldn’t like that, so you ran as fast as you could and in a second you were right by her side

“Good morning mama!”, you chanted, she smiled at you grabbing your face and kissing your cheek

“Good morning my love”, she said, with the brightest smile, “excited for today? I can’t believe my daughter is going to Stanford!”

“It’s not a big deal!” you said coyly, but you knew it was

“I’m so proud of you”, she said, looking at you with loving eyes

“Thank you mommy”, you whispered, she hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head

“You have to get me one of those stickers for the car, the ones that read “my daughter is in stanford” or a t-shirt!”, she said excitedly, as she served you breakfast, scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, you made the coffee, and you shared an amazing time.

“You know, california is beautiful, if you want, we can sell the house and I can move down there with you”, she offered

“Mom, you love it here, is where our family was from”, you said softly, “besides this house is a dream, with how expensive everything is in San Francisco, we’ll get a place like a ⅓ of the size”, you explained

“Oh I get it, my daughter doesn’t want me going down there and spoiling her fun!”, she teased,

“No!”, you giggled, “that is not it”

“I get it love”, she said softly, caressing the side of your face, “you are going to be great”, she said 

“Thank you”, you said, smiling widely. You had spend the last two years traveling the world after you ended high school, and now you were ready to start college, not any college, you had been accepted to Stanford

And you were so excited

“Remember to use your gloves honey”, she said sweetly, kissing you on your forehead, already saying your goodbyes, “and also, remember to keep away from photos as much as you can, alright?”, she asked, “you know now in the new age, everyone wants their picture taken to upload it to the internet and the internet…”

“Is forever”’, you completed, “I remember”

“Have fun, and take care sweety”, she said lovingly, and you hugged her one last time to leave your home

You got into your car, your Pontiac firebird a family friend had gotten you for your birthday and started your journey

You were driving to California, you loved roadtrips, good music, your baby, an open road… amazing

You reached San Francisco three days later. Just in time for orientation, as you were getting out of your car, you stumbled upon a large dude, he was tall! like a tree!

“I’m so sorry!”, you mumbled at the same time, his dark eyes met you down

“Nice ride!”, he admired, you felt your cheeks heated

“Thank you”, you whispered, looking back at your baby, “are you here for orientation?”

“Yes actually, you too?”, you nodded enthusiastically, “great, I’m Sam, Sam Winchester”, he said offering his hand, you shook it back, muttering your name back to him, he looked at the gloves weirdly, it might be fall but it was still warm

“What’s with the gloves?”, he asked curiously

“Oh I… well, it was an accident, I was four, my mom was cooking, she turned for one second…”, you said like you have told that lie a thousand ways before, “my hands… are weird looking but also very sensitive”

“Oh”, he said, like he had messed up, “sorry”

“Don’t sweat it”, you said softly, “it’s a common question”, you walked into the campus together, you were looking at everything with a mouth wide open, it was an incredible campus

Turns out, you and Sam met the first day, and you sticked together every day since, he wanted to become a Lawyer, you wanted to become an architect, but you made it work, you studied together, you hang around together and you started to build a group of friends around you

And just like that, four whole years happened, Sam started dating Jess, and they were super happy, and you were already enlisting yourself to be the maid of honor, and you… well… you were hanging around with a guy, but you weren’t too sure about him

Henry

He was so handsome and tall, he was the perfect man, a gentleman, and yet… you still weren’t so sure about him, there was something missing. 

You were actually discussing this with Jess, you were together, the three of you, when Sam’s apartment doorbell rang. Sam frowned, going for the door, and when he came back, he wasn’t alone. 

“Well, hello gorgeous”, he purred your way when Jess and Sam were in the kitchen

“Hi”, you muttered simply. He was handsome, deep green eyes, spiky hair, leather jacket, very hip. VERY handsome

“Are you… Sam’s friend?”, he asked

“Yes, we met first year here”, you said simply, he only nodded, a smirk on his lips, you even felt nervous with him.

“I’m Sam’s brother”, he said and you nodded, acknowledging him

“Here”, said Sam, bringing him a beer. You couldn’t stop staring at him, and him you. Sam noticed this, and seemed uncomfortable

“What brings you here Dean?”, he asked nervously, just then Dean looks at his brother

“I can’t pay a visit to my little brother?”, he asked  cheerfully, “let’s turn this around, order a couple of pizzas, drink some beer, you can invite some friends”, he said lightly

And turn it around you did

Soon the small apartment was packed, Dean was the soul of the party, that let you have a chat with Sam

“He just got out of SFS”, Sam said apologetically, “he majored in mechanical engineering”, he said lightly. You sneaked a peek at Dean and he was looking back at you, he smirked 

“Is that so?”, you mumbled, he chuckled, you looked back at him

“I know that sneaky look in your eyes”, he said

“He is handsome”, you said, he seemed entertained, “is he going to break my heart?”, you asked

“No”, he said softly

And he didn’t. Dean worked at a garage with his father while you attempted to finish school, by the time you were graduating, Sam proposed to Jess, even though they were very young, they were so in love, they got married, and when you attended their wedding in a beautiful deep purple dress -as a maid of honor-, you and Dean, both attended the wedding together, you had been dating for a year now, you danced all night, you in his arms, and he asked you, to move in with him, you of course said yes.  

You met his father, John, at the very wedding, he was happy. Their mother had died when they were children, he never remarried. But he seemed so happy to be there, with his two boys, and with their girls. 

Your mother had told you, many years ago, as a bedtime story, that you, as a phoenix, mated for life, you feel a pull, a string leading you to that person, and you’ll be happy together. You believed that, you wanted it. Dean holds you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you”, he whispered

“I love you too”, you said happily. 

You told him you were a phoenix, he didn’t care.

He found it fascinating.

You lived happily, you moved in together, you worked in your dream job, restoring old buildings in San Francisco, Dean worked in his father’s shop. He asked you to marry him, you eloped in Vegas. With Sam, Jess and your parents. 

You were living in an apartment on top of the shop, it was so comfortable, it was your home.

You found out you were pregnant, with twin girls

Your mother was there, she lived with you to help you with the girls, she was by your side when you gave birth. Dean loved her, and… you could honestly look up into the skies and give thanks, because you were the luckiest woman on the earth.

Dean was so over the moon, he was the greatest girl's dad you had ever seen. You fell even more for him, if that was even possible.

You had friends that you adored, you had the most handsome and incredible husband, which you loved with all your heart, you had a caring father in law. And you had two perfect little girls that took after their fathers, and you had your mother. 

Your life was perfect. 

“Really?”, she asked him, “you are giving her dreams instead of nightmares?”, she mocked, watching you on the floor, sleeping peacefully, “you are getting weak”, she whispered in her mate’s ear. Who had your wrist on his mouth, he had managed to break the skin, he was feeding from you. 

“She is too powerful”, the Djinn responded, blood dripping down the corner of his lip, “if she gets distressed she will break out of the trance”

“What is she?”, she asked back, fascinated

“I don’t know”, he answered, “but her blood… is delicious”. The other Djinn turned to John, laying on the floor next to you

“Let’s see how you taste old man”, she purred

John looked at the big farmhouse with curiosity, he went up the three wooden steps that lead to the porch and then inside of the house.

It was his parents house, they were gone now, but the house was lit up with life inside of it. The house had been abandoned but now, it had been brought back to life.

“Sweetheart? is that you?”, he heard a melodic voice coming from the kitchen. He looked everywhere, the house was completely renovated, it was beautiful, more beautiful than he remembered.

“Yes”, he answered, he didn't even know why, maybe it was a force of habit. 

He stopped by the mirror in the corridor and he looked at himself in it, there he was, himself. when he was thirty.

What the hell was going on?

He heard footsteps from the corridor leading to the kitchen, and then, his breath got caught in his throat when he saw you, coming towards him, with a beautiful smile, and a big baby bump. You look older than you were, at least thirty 

“We missed you”, you said with a bright smile, you were wearing an apron, you had flour staining it, you took his face gently in your hand and you kissed him, his hands traveled to your hips

“Hello darlin”, he whispered against your lips

“Papa!”, he heard footsteps tapping around in the corridor. Two children appeared, which he could recognize anywhere, Sam and Dean, looking as cute as buttons. Dean was eight and Sam was four. 

“(y/n) is baking my favorite pie”, said Dean Happily, John dropped his bag of tools, grabbing Sammy on his strong arms, and followed you into the kitchen. He found it weird that he called you by your name instead of… and then he saw a picture of Mary on the wall, with the boys. Where you…?

“Your little girl had been kicking me all day long!”, you said happily, finishing up in the kitchen

“Little girl?”, he asked, curiously

“Well, I know you can never know for sure”, you said softly, “but this old lady told me she thought it was a girl, and well, many things, we did the ring test, and rhe shape of the belly too…”, you muttered. He looked at your shape from where he was sitting. He must be dreaming. He looked at his boys, eating the chicken and potatoes you had made them. 

This had to be a dream

But he didn’t want to scare you.

He looked at your shape again, you were a woman now, grown, which let him know you were no longer a supernatural creature.Your huge belly, he looked at his boys, who looked back at him wide eyed, and smiling

He felt… happy.

“What happened?”, he dared to ask you, when you were both ready for bed, in the master bedroom.

“What do you mean?”, you asked softly. He was clearly… with you… but the boys existed too, and… “remember that this week, well, of course you remembered but I called the florist already”, yous aid gently

“What florist?”, he asked

“For… Mary’s memorial”, you said, looking at him sadly. Mary died, he remarried… you…. he had the boys and now he was expecting a girl… with you.

“Alright, thank you”, he said, leaning in and kissing your lips, you felt asleep cuddled by his side, your big belly over his stomach.

He was putting flowers on Mary’s grave. His friends and remaining family were there. but you weren’t, you didn’t feel well, and he realized you wanted to give him space, which he appreciated. It had been four years since Mary’s death, he believed it was a bit too soon to be married to you, but right now, he didn’t know what happened.

He worked in his own mechanic shop, his own, he was so proud of himself for achieving it, he came back to you and the kids every night, he went to his kid’s games, he even coached little league. 

He found you in the kitchen, your water broke, and you whined in pain.

He took you to the hospital, he left the kids with the neighbors, a loving couple you liked so much, that you barbequed with.

It was a girl, a beautiful little girl who looked like you.

He was happy, really happy. He’s got the cake, and he ate it too.

He woke up early that one morning, you were so tired, Violet kept waking you up for feeding in the middle of the night, but there you were, sleeping soundly next to him

“Dad!”, he heard, in the back of his mind, “DAD!”, the last thing he saw was your sleeping face, before Dean was shaking him awake. 

He was back in the present, and two Djinns lay dead, one, killed by the Dean, the other… copious amounts of blood were dripping from his mouth, like he just throw it all up, he was right next to you, your wrist… was healing but it had been bitten onto, severely.

Dean was over you now, shaking you awake

“Mom?”, you felt like you would die, you were so weak, your eyelids were heavy, very heavy

“No darling, it’s me”, you heard that gruff voice, Dean, tried to make you sit, but he had to grab you, you couldn’t keep your own body up

“Mmmm Dean?”, you asked, feeling so faint, like your brain was made of cotton

“Shh, I got you”, he shushed gently, “those bastards got you good”, lifting you from the ground. “Dad, are you ok?”, he asked

“Yes I’m fine Dean, take care of her!”, he insisted, the Djinns didn’t get to him in time. 

“What were they?”, you asked, as they both started walking away. 

“Djinns, got you and dad”, Dean carried you like you were a princess, out of the large Warehouse. It came back, all of it, you had come to Denver, in Colorado, to find and kill the Djinns that were draining dry innocent people. 

“I’m sorry”, you whined

“It’s fine, thanks to you, I got the time to rescue dad and gank them”, he said

“What happened?”, you asked then

“They fed off of you, they seemed rabid for it”, he said, he laid you in the back of the Impala, and closed the door gently, you curled up, hugging yourself, it seemed impossible, but you might have been experiencing cold for the very first time

Both John and Dean got inside the car, John in the passenger seat, he turned over the leather seat and looked at you

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”, he asked, concern in his features

“Mhm”, you mumbled, barely

“I’m sorry”, he muttered

“It’s fine”, you whispered

“Is she going to be alright?”, he asked Dean, he shook his head

“I will”, you promised, “I need a minute”

“I didn’t even know monsters could feed off of phoenixes”, John said, Dean started the car and leaving the scene quickly

“They did, but one of them died because of it, he started screaming, like he was being burned, and then he just collapsed and died”, he said quickly, “like her blood was poison or something”

“Mmmm I need a sandwich”, you mumbled, really out of it

“What kind of sandwich?”, asked Dean

“Mmmm meat… cheese… mayo”, you barely whisper, “and a strawberry milkshake”

“That sounds… pretty good”, Dean said happily. “Let’s get away from this crap-ass city”, he said 

John kept looking back at you. You just dozed off, only in a couple of hours, you were going to be brand new. 

Post chapter notes: Soooo Reader wished her mom never died. And John fleetingly wished he met the reader “before”, didn’t specify much.

Maybe this chapter is a bit weird, its similar to the one where Dean gets trapped by a Djinn and he alucinates... anyways... happy reading

taglist! <3

@deans-spinster-witch

[moonshynecybin]

yeah sorry i did not mean to be a party pooper or anything 😭 my bad… i also think it’s fun to make jokes about marc being an evil master manipulator who ruined vale’s life and i definitely agree that he might have been more inclined to risk something had vale not said what he said, but like i don’t think he went into that race gunning to ruin it all for vale if that makes sense… also agree that you could notttt get me to admit to that under threat of violence but that’s what makes All In such in interesting doc cause you really see this almost desperate attempt to get people to understand him after years of isolating himself from his peers it’s so heart wrenchingly human.. it’s about the injury and the pain but it’s also like. hey i’m sad my childhood hero didn’t call me to wish me well

NO youre good i had just thought about sepang for six straight hours at that point and i was tired lmao. i actually think that a lot of the bones of the conflict is pretty straightforward between them, but they muddy the waters as time goes on bc they are always sort. dancing with the press in many regards. like it can be a tool it can be an annoyance it can be a lion whose teeth youve put your head in between and managing it takes some effort. and they BOTH know post sepang that whatever they say is gonna get printed>become a story>smth they get asked about, so they should be careful with how and when they talk about it. BUT. theyre still hurt and theyre still human, so occasionally they drop these messy little revealing statements about each other that are s interesting... idk i think its valuable (especially for marc but maybe thats just me) to look at where their statements CHANGE over time and maybe suss out why and why NOW... so marc leverages his documentary as his opportunity to sort of. rise from the ashes of the doldrums of his injury and express to everyone that A. hes back and B. he does this because he loves it and C. the whole thing sucked a lot and was maybe the hardest thing he's ever done. he really wants people to like him and to sympathize with him and to understanddddd him.... and as a result it is also p much the only time hes come back at vale and told his side of the 2015 story in the years since.

[pompomchihuahua]

Love to hear your thoughts on that different post 👀

!!!!

HEHEHEHEH

GOD OKAY so it REALLY depends on how far back Sanemi gets on this do-over. But for the sake of this post let's say he starts back just after his mother's death. We've got the mind of a 21 year old in the body of a shell-shocked 12(?) year old.

First up we have his "decision" to abandon Genya in the first place. I say place heavy emphasis on that because I don't think it was much of a conscious choice. At first. I actually want to explore this a little in the next chapter of Song in Every Breath but basically I think that, out of it as he was having just killed his mother and subconsciously desperate to escape the situation, he just started walking. Just wandered off, grip held tight around that cleaver, still dripping with blood that turns to ash as soon the sunlight touches its gleaming blade.

By the time he comes back to himself, he realizes he can never go back. That he couldn't, not until he'd wiped the earth of every one of those vile creatures that had taken his family, that had almost taken his baby brother.

As an adult who had already lived this, I think he'd stay with Genya, prioritize him over his burning hatred and grief. I think it would go a little similarly to @princeblue's spoiled Genya of the Wind Estate au. Where Sanemi still seeks out the demon slayer corps, it being the best option for two orphans in a demon-infested Taisho era Japan. He becomes a Hashira while Genya lives in the wind estate with Sanemi's main goal being that Genya never discovers his demon eating ability or talent with a gun. He wants to keep Genya as far away from the fight as possible this time by keeping him in sight at all times possible.

Now, for funsies, if we want to go the doomed by the narrative route, I think Genya would become dissatisfied living this way. Once again, from the novels, we see that Genya has a desire to protect and "baby" Sanemi as well. We know from the book that Genya also helped Sanemi around the house and helped take care of the other siblings. He was the one that Sanemi confided in and made the promise to protect the others with. Genya has always stepped up for Sanemi but still felt it wasn't enough because Sanemi never got to "babied."

I can see the scenario where he pulls a Kanao and sneaks off to join final selection, joining the demon slayer corps against Sanemi's wishes. And god the panic that would instill in Sanemi. That it was happening all over again, his baby's death flashing before his eyes all over again. The rift this would create in their relationship, leading inevitably back to the infinity castle. For Sanemi to relive Genya's death over and over and over again a million different ways.

[gayvecchio]

The Other by omnishambles - word count: 30006

Then it clicks: she means the other one. Ray Kowalski’s back. Ray Vecchio's trying to scrape his life together post-Vegas, and then Kowalski turns up - quiet, unsettled, with a badge that still has Vecchio's name on it and nowhere to go. Why not work together for a while? Both of them are down a partner, after all. A post-canon AU.

Wisely and Slowly by brynnmck - word count: 3799

The first time it happens is a complete fluke.

Reasons that need exploring at this juncture by belmanoir - word count: 10247

After the Quest, Kowalski tries to figure out why he's remained in Chicago, and whether he really belongs there. Also, he and Fraser are roommates and he has the world's biggest crush on Vecchio.

We could be a whole parade by belmanoir - word count: 7910

Kowalski runs into Frannie at ballroom dancing at the Y.

We'll Sweep Out the Ashes in the Morning by ignaz - word count: 19350

Something had happened up there in Canada -- that much Ray knew. Something big, something serious, something that was still aching and raw. He had no idea how Kowalski had managed to stay alive in undercover gigs for so long; the son of a bitch wore his pain like a hairshirt, like a new tattoo so fresh it was still oozing blood.

By His Bootlaces by prudence_dearly word count: 15794

Time Travelling Rays!

In a Little While by brooklinegirl - word count: 9420

I lie awake at night and wait 'til you come in. You stay a little while and then you're gone again. Every question that I ask, I get a lie, lie, lie. - "Cry, Cry Cry" See, that was the thing: Vecchio always had to go.

Trample Down Barbed Wire by catwalksalone - word count: 2364

Ray's never been a fan of confined spaces.

Take Another Road by brooklinegirl - word count: 31927

Ray stared out the front windshield, wishing he had never heard of road trips, or Ray Kowalski, or Benton Fraser, for that matter.

Thursdays by spuffyduds - word count: 5140

AU where the Rays meet between s2 and s3

All These Stupid Things  by sdwolfpup - word count: 1468

Every time he turned around or moved at all it seemed, Kowalski would be there pressed tight up against him or have an arm draped casually near Ray’s thigh and the invitation so obvious in his eyes that Ray was surprised no one else said anything.

Secret Agent Man by aerye - word count: 3562

Secret agents, double agents, guns, microfilm and a gay bartender.

Opportune by seascribble word count: 2699

Kowalski has blown Ray seven (and a half) times total, and Ray's gotten the chance to return the favour exactly never.

dressing bad is like loving you by snoopypez - word count: 1708

The day Vecchio showed up to work in a pair of worn jeans was the same day Ray lost his mind.

[rioreeve]

trip to the docks

//Ground floor retail access & the docks. Nov 21.

Zach put everything on his bed: a flashlight, two powerbanks, his phone, two knives, and a gun he had brought from the chopper. Two bottles of water and a few protein bars. A small first aid kit. He crossed his arms on his chest and studied the items before he decided he had everything they might need and put them all in his backpack. "You're not going with me," he told Doom when he jumped onto the now-empty bed, wagging his tail. He had prepared some food for the dog earlier, and this time, he also had to ask someone to puppysit Doom while he was gone. They would soon run out of dog food, so if he and Ash were lucky enough to get some on their way back, he would kill two birds with one stone. If that wasn't possible, however, he would have to sneak out and get some for Doom Slayer by himself. He wished he had ordered more last time... Now that everything was ready, Zach checked his watch; Ash should be waiting for him at the only available exit from the building, and he still had to drop off his dog at Ember's, so he picked up the backpack, collected Doom's stuff, and headed out of his condo, hoping they would be back before it got dark and the streets were an even more dangerous place. "Come on, we gotta hurry, buddy."

He knew neither of them would change their mind, but the closer to their meeting point he was, the more he thought about the whole undertaking. They had so many questions, and the answers to at least some of them would be on that ship. This trip and getting those answers wouldn't bring an end to anything, but he wondered what would change. Maybe, they would be closer to understanding something about this virus and how it all started. Well, they had to get there first.

Greeting Ash with a nod when he finally joined him, he asked, "Ready?" A part of him was excited to leave this building for several hours and see how the city looked now. Not that it had changed much since the last time, though.

@ashton-ryder // @byenycfm

[emptymanuscript]

When they say shelving stories isn't the end of things and that you can always come back, we mean it.

I did some extremely light editing work today, on a whim, for "In Shining Armor" which I wrote in 1993!

The file is so old that I had to download LibreOffice to even open the file and then convert it because Word considered the file format a threat (probably to their pocketbooks more than security but still...).

So, to go along with you can always come back, also remember to both back up and never throw any writing away. You do never know when you might need it.

Someone brought some of their old work in to writing group this week, mentioning it was one of their first things which they had been thinking about again but also that they felt bad about how bad it was. And I mentioned, hey, it's probably fantastic compared to my oldest stuff.

So then I was like, hey, I should dig out my equivalent piece.

And... Sheesh, it is BAD bad.

63 pages double spaced but still with 8 parts and 41 chapters. One is a prologue and I'm fairly certain the last 4 "chapters" are all epilogues, two with multiple brand new characters being introduced in them. You know, for all those epic sequels I was going to write.

Peter Jackson has got nothing on me.

I also managed a very graphic sex scene without ever describing the body of one of the participants. Must have cut that for the magazine back in the day. Highschoolers writing smut! Scandal! Outrage! Why, I never! It's all too shocking! For shaaaaame!!

But it is at least spelling and grammar checked now XD so that's an improvement.

I don't know if I can quite imagine what this story would look like if I tried to do it now. Definitely not the same amount of smut. Don't know if it would be more or less, though.

It's so cliched fantasy.

Evil Tyrant overlord, check.

Return of the long lost prince, check.

Cursed good sorceress, check.

The peasants are revolting AND they're rebelling, Check.

My god the accents >_< XD!, yes, spell check, I do wish to keep all the whadya means.

...Somehow the rebels have guns when everyone else has swords.

The evil good Wizard did it.

The Wizard's name is Marlin, not to be confused with Merlin.

Villain (and HOMG check his name) gets a final monologue. AFTER he has gotten a fatal stab wound and is bleeding fire.

"You may think you have won," Darius gurgled, "But this is only the beginning. I shall come again. When you least expect it, and when you are least prepared to handle it, I  Darius Lucifero shall return." With that the flames engulfed him, and his ashes were set to the winds.

Che-eck, PLEASE.

Ah, no, it was only THREE epilogues. That's fine then.

XD!!!

So, you know, don't get too down on your writing. Trust me, you will get better. And probably faster than me XD! I still give villains final monologues. I like villain monologues.

I may just like monologues XD.

[thedroneranger]

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ indynerdgirl Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

@indynerdgirl's Rewind is here! I'll be taking a few recs off the list, and I hope you will, too!

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

Let's keep this going throughout the summer, so if you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

Flyboy, Jake Seresin, @kryptonitejelly This friends to lovers fic is just *chef’s kiss*. Jake is just so swoon worthy in this fic that everytime I reread it, I get just a little bit upset that he’s not real.

From The Ashes, Jake Seresin x Natasha Trace, @myshipsaresunk This Hannix rock star au will put you through the emotional ringer but it will be so worth it! I was lucky enough to beta read this one as it was being written and the endings of some of the chapters had me literally shouting at my computer screen due to some of the characters’ life choices.

Je te Laisserai Des Mots, Bradley Bradshaw, @jupitercomet This is an arranged marriage au but it’s also what I would call a period piece au. The writer says she was heavily inspired by Greta Gerwig’s Little Women but it also gives off some regency era vibes as well. Whatever era it’s supposed to be, this fic is another one that I wish never ended because I would love to stay in the world forever.

Mamma Mia, Bob Floyd/Jake Seresin/Bradley Bradshaw, @perpetuelledaydreaming Take the plot of Mamma Mia, set it in the world of Top Gun, and you have this absolutely amazing fic! And I love how it’s tied into TGM by having the reader run into all three of them again when they’re back at Top Gun for the special detachment.

My Girl, Jake Seresin, @ereardon This fic just hits all of the right spots for me when it comes to the single dad trope. And it’s also one of those fics that I wish just never ended because I just adore this little family.

Oh, Baby, Jake Seresin, @seresinhangmanjake This is the first in a super sweet series and the emotions that come through this one had me tearing up a few times the first time I read it.

Sugar and Spice, Jake Seresin, @wombtotombx This is a fantastic fic and the way SB describes things makes you feel like you’re right there in the fic with the characters. And with how knowledgeable she is when it comes to all things Navy, there are a ton of little things in this fic that just give it that extra touch. She also has a really fantastic dad!Jake series that I highly recommend!

That's a Problem?, Bradley Bradshaw, @archivallyfound09 Another super sweet fic that does the single parent trope well! Bug and his love of his ‘Ooster and Dino snacks will absolutely melt your heart!

the echo (or the answer), Jake Seresin, @anniesocsandgeneralstore I still can’t believe that I almost skipped over this werewolf au when if first showed up on my dash but I am so glad I decided to give it a go. It quickly became one of my favorites and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. 

The Princess and The Pilot, Jake Seresin, @perfectprettypisces I am a sucker for a good ‘dating the admiral’s daughter’ fic, especially when said daughter is the only girl with over protective brothers and this one ticks both of those boxes! And the sibling dynamics in this are top notch and very believable!

Creator's Own I Heard From The Heavens, Bradley Bradshaw Not only was this the very first Top Gun fic I ever wrote, but it was the first fic I had written in six years when I posted it last year. It’s also very personal to me. One of my younger brothers is a fighter pilot in the Air Force and while I am incredibly proud of him, I still can’t help but worry about him as an older sister is wont to do so this fic was me channeling those worries and fears I sometimes have in regards to my brother.

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn @sweetwhispersofchaos @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @dingochef @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @ereardon @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @galaxy-of-stories @taytaylala12 @malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner 

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

[actualbird]

God I agree so hard with you on the afterstories. I get what they were trying to do with them as a sweet ending to take the sting off the main story but it just cheapens the story so much!! I don't feel relief when reading about how they miraculously survived, I just kind of feel frustrated because the afterstory just really doesn't earn that relief at all.

I'd have preferred if they turned the afterstory into an actual additional part of the main story detailing how the boys survived because at least then it'd have a better chance of landing since it's more developed than just "oh yeah don't worry about it I got out fine :)". Or if they really wanted to keep it an afterstory...I don't know, maybe a reunite in the afterlife thing? It's also cliche but at least it doesn't cheapen the story as much by magically undoing the tragedy of the story.

Of course, ideally they'd stick to their guns and just end the story where it's supposed to end without any afterstory. Maybe I could understand the need for a fluffier epilogue for the other AU cards which could catch players not expecting angst off guard since the art doesn't give anything away but for Enduring Light's set of cards? Every single card has the boys looking badly beat up or in a bad situation for Luke, I'd be surprised if anyone pulled for the cards not expecting heavy angst.

I think in the end I just act as if the afterstories are non-canon, and considering during the secret chats some of the boys talk about their card counterparts as if they did die I think that might be what the devs intended too. I do still think the stories told in the AU cards are generally good from what little I've read, I just wish they'd commit that tiny bit more to telling a tragedy when they want to.

🌌

irt my thoughts on marius and luke's enduring light cards

wahhh hi hi milkyway anon!! glad im not the only one hehe cuz I AGREE WITH ALL THIS

the thing i most most agree with is if they took the "actual additional part of the main story detailing how the boys survived" approach to the afterstory, i wouldve Loved that. for luke's in particular his recovery seems like suCH AN INTERESTING STORY IN ITSELF HELLO??? he was fished outta the ocean and injured so badly that his recovery took a whole year???? i wanna read that!! i wanna read about him coming to terms with his injuries (and maybe even disability because you dont get out of an Exploding Airplane Crash unscathed. in my mind he had to get a limb amputated (hi chika if youre out there reading this ask you have infected me with the "amputate luke" hc) or at the very least cannot walk for a solid period of time after the accident. oh, and ptsd of course) and how he copes with all this

all in all, my dissatisfaction with the inclusion of the afterstories in this set of cards seems to show a pattern for my dissatisfaction with other tot cards i didnt vibe with: they were all (even partly) caused by tot's dedication to the format of their cards rather than the story within it

why didnt i like ssr looming nightmare? 6 acts were not enough to flesh out mc's side of the story, given that it was her nightmare. alas, 6 acts are all we get for regular ssr cards

why didnt i like ssr orange scent? 3 acts were NOWHERE near enough space for luke to be able to get over his fears and propose to mc. alas, 3 acts is all we get for anniv ssr cards

why didnt i like this bit of ssr sky ashes? because the existence of the afterstory undermines the tragedy's tragedy-ing. alas, afterstories are a staple of big event ssr cards

like.....i get that tot has to be consistent in their format for types of cards but it makes me sad to see when that consistency actively does the card story a disservice. these stories could be homeruns! if they were treated as the priority and not something to shove into a template that must be followed

anyhoo, it's nice to see im not the only one w iffy feelings abt the afterstories. i still liked sky ashes and im going your route about it by mentally editing the afterstory to be a recovery story instead of a fluff fix-all

thanks for the ask!!

[skierisa]

I don’t believe I’m familiar with your ocs so feel free to choose any but 🐉🗡️🧠

I think I could briefly talk about the three of them!

🐉 - Valerie is the only elemental master in her family, neither Nessa or Kenichi have any elemental powers. However, Kenichi taught himself how to use magic once the realms merged. The only power Vanessa has is the shape shifting ability shared by the people of her realm (is just a bit different than the Formlings).

🗡️ - Valerie is very good in combat, but she tends to forget she doesn't need to block and face every attack. Her chosen weapon are iron war fans. Kenichi mostly uses magic and does some sort of jiujitsu style of fight. Vanessa is the "weakest" among them, but knows some capoeira moves and learned how to use the naginata as a hobby (later she would take these more seriously).

🧠 - okay, this might be too long, so sorry in advance

Valerie and Kenichi were first created in 2017 because I wanted werewolf edgy OC's. Valerie used to use an axe instead of war fans, but her overall werewolf thingy and appearance were always the same. She also always had an "alt" aesthetic, or as alt as I could go as a 12 yo in the late 2010's thinking emo was very hardcore (ah, 12yo me was so dumb). I tried my best for her not to be a Mary Sue as well, so her outspoken and impulsive personality was always there. She was also created to be paired with Lloyd and they also always had this "haters to friends to lovers" dynamic. Again, as time went by, I needed to add good personality traita for her as well and I thought that her explosive/impulsive personality would contrast well with her being super nice and patient with kids and actually enjoying to be around them. 2017 Valerie could never! One cool detail about her desing is that her lighter brown locks were inspired by my hair when I was 12. It had lighter, slightly blonde locks because I used to be under the sun a lot (if I try doing this nowadays I'll turn to ashes lol)

Kenichi only started to get a personality once I reworked him like I year ago. He was very different, but things that are still the same is that he has black hair and he smokes (also knows how to use a gun). He started as a comedic relief character, but as time went by I hugged the idea of him being morally grey, yet funny, but always with a card in his sleeve, wishing nothing but the best for the world (he's literally chaotic good rn). The scar on his eye was originally present as a "future self" thing, like, he'd get it during Valerie's fan season, but I liked the idea so I made it part of him from the start of the story.

Nessa was created randomly when I was 12 because I wanted to give Valerie some drama that wasn't "her parents are dead" kind of drama, so I thought adding a surprise twin sister would be nice. Well it wasn't, and I knew that, so I killed Nessa off and she became a vangeful spirit only Valerie could see. When I decided to rework Valerie, I revisited Vanessa's concept, whose personality seemed to never be right. Having recently watched C09 gameplays and Scott Pilgrim movies (plus reading the comics) I thought mixing Jecka and Julie Powers with a character from Teen Monica's Gang (Denise) would be funny. I did this because Nessa's personality would always end up as "too shy to live" or "too superficial to be interesting", so I gave her this "she's an asshole" kind of personality, except it's just because she's harsh and likes to take care of others, so her harshness is because of her wish to see others doing well. Like she has redeemable qualities that's what I mean ldhdkdjfi

Anyway, that's it! Thank you very much for the ask, I love talking about my OC's and thought this game would be a fun way to talk about them without doing 100s of random posts fhjdhdjd