#i passed out for 6 hours this evening are you proud everyone

[yourfavoritepillowprincess]

a/n: i wrote this two eddies and like 6 hits off the cart in. AND while vibin to my toxic bbg sza. what a life

for all my hotties who just finished hell finals week. good job to us bro 💀. to those who failed (me) it’s all good bcz we gonna be back on our zoom next semester <3

plug!abby helping nerd!overachiever!reader destress after a long, tortuous semester. 

edit: this has now been proofread by sober me. any mistakes you might've seen...no you didn't

“you have no idea how proud of you i am-.”

to put it bluntly, this semester sucked complete and utter ass. you didn’t know what it was specifically; maybe it was the nasty professor you had for english who was just determined to fail you at every turn. hmm, or perhaps it was the fact that the workload was heavy enough to break an elephant's back. or it could be due to the fact that you had to carry every fucking group project on your back because everyone who got partnered with were completely useless. whatever the cause, you felt it seep out of you, like someone just opened a lid on your brain and let in some air.

abby anderson, aka the very type of person your parents beg you to never bring home, aka the most well-known (and well-sought after) plug on campus, aka your girlfriend had you laid out on her lap, your legs spread on either side of hers. she never could understand why you try so hard (she herself gave up on her grades ages ago, only doing enough to barely pass with Ds). she knew you were naturally intelligent, and you honestly didn’t need to do half of the intense studying you did. she would always try and seduce you away from your work, pleading for you to pay attention to her for only a few minutes (it never took her long to make you cum). sometimes it would work, but most of the time it didn’t, with you too immersed in your assignments to even think about relieving any…tension.

so naturally, the moment you walked into your dorm from class at the end of the semester, she had you trained. she’d spent a whole hour smoking you out, getting you nice and hazy and slow as she played with and plucked at your puffy nipples. she had you completely under her command, the fact that you didn’t smoke often (i could never but for the sake of the plot🤷🏿‍♀️) only adding to your state. 

and as soon as she got bored of teasing you, she was pushing your soaked panties to the side and shoving two, no three of her fingers into you. no prep, no warning, just fullness as abby did what she did best. owned you.

“-but i told you not to take so many credits baby, had your head all full of yucky stuff that my girl doesn’t need.” her fingers had been torturing you, curling into your g-spot countless times as the sore spot began to bruise. she was always known for being good with her hands, but she never failed to remind you every chance she got. the thickness of her middle and ring finger made you drool (from both pairs of lips) and you could do nothing but cry as she fucked rivers of slick from your gummy walls. like always. she didn’t mind tho, she loved her little crybaby.

"you're lucky i love you so much. i always know how to help my smart girl out."

anddddd that's all i got folks. stream lana for clear skin and wet pussy 🫶🏿

[jumioxox]

drdttober day twelve - traditional clothing

[clawsmiic]

"I had to talk to you."

Repost from other account

2.4k words

CW: Heavy flirtation, canon divergence (S4 end events didn't happen), College Student!Steve, Steve has shit eyesight

October 13th, 1989

Steve sighs, leaning back on the drivers side of his 1983 BMW. Burgundy paint starting to chip on the hood, the car becoming less appealing day by day. Girls passing by not even looking in his direction anymore. He was old news in Hawkins after people found out he had finally started at a college half an hour away in Fort Wayne. Just starting his life like everyone else did 4 years ago just wasn't appealing to most girls.

At least not Hawkins girls.

But at this point he didn't care. He was proud of himself for pulling his life together after all the bullshit he had been put through. With saving an entire town too many god damn times. Cutting his dad off when his parents divorced. Moving out to get a rented house with his best friend Robin. Just what he learned he needed over time.

Getting into a good school by himself with no help was just a cherry on top of the fuck you sundae he graciously served his past problems.

He was satisfied with what he had right now.

Dustin walks out of the new game shop in the newest strip mall to grace Hawkins. Steve looks up, pushing his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto his head.

"You made it out before, Robin. I'm surprised." Dustin glanced at the instrument shop a few doors down, then back to Steve. "You get what Eddie needed?"

"Mostly yeah. She's still getting her trumpet fixed?" Steve shrugs at Dustin's question and slides his sunglasses down in place again.

"She probably got distracted looking at something shiny and new. You know Robins crow brain sometimes." Dustin laughs, looking into his bag, shuffling a few things around inside.

Steve looked over at the liquor store at the end of the strip mall. Looking back at Dustin, he taps the top of the car. His head snapped up, eyes a bit surprised at the sudden noise.

"You want anything?" Steve asks, tilting his head back towards the store.

"Coke? If they got it." Dustin simply replied before getting in the back seat. Steve nods and walks to the liquor store.

The bell chimes over his head as he walks through the door. He takes in the warmth of the store and the radio playing over the speakers on the ceiling. Such a nice contrast to the crisp Autumn air outside.

He turns heading down an isle of assorted liquor bottles and bar accessories before finally stopping at the fridge. Humming along to the song over the radio, mumbling the lyrics to 'I wanna know what love is' absentmindedly.

Sliding his glasses down his nose, he squints at the selection. All the labels are blurry the farther he is, he steps forward rubbing his eyes and sure doesn't help with the florescent lighting blinding him from above.

God I need to get my eyes checked.

Opening the fridge, he grabs the 3 soft drinks and a 6-pack for later when he hears a metal scrapping and whoosh next to him. Followed by a muffled but panicked "Shit!"

Looking over, he sees the back of a squatting woman struggling with a metal shelf slipping out of one of the fridges.

Walking over, he quickly puts his things down and pushes the shelf back in. The metal shelf, cold against his warm skin as he reaches into the fridge, fixing the fasteners back into place.

An issue he's all too familiar with working at Family Video. The fridge racks always got loose and every time it happened he was always made to clean them up. He could only imagine the mess a bunch of glasses and beer would have made.

"Thank you so much!" The woman speaks as Steve stands up, slowly closing the door. Looking back, he finally sees your face. His lips slightly part as you continue talking, he can't hear a word you're saying right now.

All he can hear is the very oddly convenient Foreigner song playing over the store radio as he takes in every detail of your gorgeous face. From your shiny hair to your bright smile. The vibrant colored nail polish on your fingers you're waving as you talk. You're unfamiliar, he's never seen you before, but you're an absolute stunner of a woman.

Steve never thought of himself as a love at first sight kind of guy. But right now he was undoubtedly being proven wrong by the spark he was feeling, not to mention the nervous knot in his stomach.

"But really you're a life saver... Thank you." You stop talking, looking at him. Your face falls as he perks up, realizing he's just been staring like a complete idiot this entire time.

"You're welcome!" He spoke, choking almost over how inappropriately loud he was for a second. Feeling the effect of not talking to women for a while really hit him. You look down at his soon-to-be purchases.

"Full Sail Amber. Good beer." You comment, making him look at the floor and nod.

Crouching down, he grabs his things and stands cracking his head on one of the fridge door handles. His sunglasses fell off his face and onto the floor. He stands up wedging his soft drink between his side and arm. Rubbing his head with a hiss.

"You okay?" You ask with a slight chuckle. Bending down, you grab the sunglasses, Steve moves his hand, grabbing the bottom of the door handle to shield your head from injury.

"Yeah, thanks." Before he gets to put his hand out to take his Ray-Bans back, you slide them on his head with a soft smile.

God she's so fucking pretty.

"You're welcome. And thanks again for... Saving me from paying for a full shelf of beer." She turned down the isle to another part of the store.

Part of Steve wants to follow you and try chatting you up, but the slight embarrassment of hurting his head just keeps him from doing so.

He turns, goes to the front of the store and makes his purchases. Heading outside, he walks to his car, finally seeing Robin in her usual spot, the passenger seat. Opening the driver's door, he slips in.

"There you are!" Robin looked at him, her trumpet case in-between her legs on the floor of the car.

"What's with the face?" Dustin asks, Steve looking at him in the rearview, glaring.

"Shut up Henderson." He hands them their sodas, moving to close his car door when he hears the bell from the liquor store chime.

Out you walk, starting across the parking lot to a top-down red 86' Volkswagen Cabriolet. Steve freezes, staring again. He really can't help but stare.

"Oooh." Robin and Dustin both taunt him, making him sigh. He needs more friends, fewer annoying friends.

"She's pretty." Robin says looking at Dustin.

"Too pretty to talk to, apparently." Dustin adds, laughing as he looks back at Steve.

"I talked to her in the store." Dustin raised his eyebrows, pushing his baseball cap up a bit.

"You asked her out?"

"No." Steve watches you load your bag into the back seat and start pulling the top up on your car.

"Not too late!" Robin smiled, taking a sip of her drink. Dustin looked at her.

"He's not gonna do it."

"No, he's gonna do it."

Steve feels like he has a devil and an angel bickering on his shoulders right now. His foot meets the new asphalt of the parking lot as you open your driver's door.

He's quickly out of the driver's seat.

"Holy shit he's doing it." Dustin comments as he shuts the door on them.

He stops at the bumper of his car, hearing your car engine click over. Music pours out of your open windows before you turn it down quickly.

The universe is screaming at him to talk to you when he starts hearing that familiar Tears for Fears song, 'Head Over Heels'.

Please don't pull away, please don't pull away.

He nearly sprints across the parking lot out of fear of missing his chance. Upon reaching the car, he knocks on the back window, pulling you from looking for something in the console.

"Hi..." He says awkwardly, approaching the window. Leaning on the door, he smiles as you smile back.

"Hi. You need something?" He gets so agitated that you smirk up at him.

'Why'd you have to be so God damn pretty?'

"Sorry if this is weird, but I had to talk to you." He started, finally being able to say something. Your eyes go half shut with a soft nod.

"Talk to me?" He nods, clenching the door frame for a second. "Go ahead then. Talk."

His eyes go wide in surprise at your sudden confidence. Steve stammered for a second.

"Uh... At the risk of sounding crazy or desperate... You're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." You can feel your body warm up as he gives the most genuine smile you've seen on a man in a while.

"Mmhm, go on."

"Are you by chance single? Or like... Are you even attracted to men at all?" He asks, sheepishly smiling.

"Yes, and yes." Your smirk slowly turns into a grin as he squats to eye level now, feeling a bit more confident after your answer.

"I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington." He smiles again hearing you reply with your name. "Are you new to Hawkins?"

"I am actually. I just moved here from the city and needed to stay nearby for school."

"Where are you going?"

"Trine University." His eyes go wide, the same school he goes to. What are the odds?

"Really? I actually go there too. Education major." You look him up and down. You never pegged him for the teacher type.

"Software Engineering major."

"So you're smart and gorgeous. Good to know." He smirks, finally feeling like himself when talking as your flush finally becomes noticeable. "You like movies?"

"What kind of psychopath doesn't like movies?" He laughs at your response, leaning in closer to the window.

"Lemme be more specific. The new Halloween 5 movie came out today. You interested in seeing it? Maybe with me tonight at the drive-in theater in Lafayette. We can have dinner after. All my treat, of course." He can see the sparkle in your eyes, that spark he felt looking at you before is still lingering around him.

"What's in it for me?" You playfully ask. He cocks his head to the side, leaning it on his arm for a second.

"A fun night out with a gentleman, I promise I'm fun." You chuckle, rolling your eyes, he knows you want to say yes. "Please?"

He'd never said please before when asking a girl out. It didn't feel embarrassing like he thought it would. You turn your attention back to the console looking for something.

Pulling out a napkin and pen, you quickly write down your number and address. Turning back, you hold it out to him as he takes it.

"I'm free at 8. And dress nicely. You're taking me somewhere decent after the movie."

"I'll take you to the most expensive restaurant I can find if that's what you want. I don't care. As long as I get to see you again." You laugh at his bluntness, it's like music to his ears.

"That won't be necessary. I don't need to be spoiled."

"What if I want to spoil you?" That caught you off guard as you didn't respond right away. He let a soft breath escape his mouth. "You like roses?"

"White roses." You reply, he nods, standing up again and folding the napkin, storing it in his back jean pocket for safe keeping.

"I'll be sure to remember that." You two just stare at each other in silence for a minute. No man's ever looked at you like Steve has right now, it makes your heart race from nervousness.

"I'll see you at 8 o'clock then." You look past him for a moment and back to him. "Tell your friends I said hello since they like to stare so much."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve turned his head. He sees Robin poking her head over the roof of the car and Dustin sitting on the rolled down window frame. They quickly hurry back into the car, noticing they've been caught. He should be embarrassed, but he fully expects their behavior from being friends for so long.

"Ignore them." Steve says, sighing as he looks back at you. "I'll see you at 8."

He turned away towards his car, trying to stay as confident as he was before turning his back. Reaching his car, he pops the door open, clutching it for dear life as he silently collects himself. Robin poked her head across the driver's seat to look up at him.

"You good dude?" She asks, concerned but also excited as he just nods.

You pull out of your parking spot, stopping behind his car and honk once to get his attention. Dustin pops his head out the back window as Robin looks out her open door. Steves head snaps up at you as you lean on your window frame, chin on fist with the most shit eating grin on your face.

"See you at 8 sexy~" You called to him. And then you have the balls to blow him a kiss before peeling out of the parking lot.

Steve silently gets in the car. Robin shuts her door as Steve does his. Dustin sits forward looking at Steve, who's just gripping his steering wheel, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

"Dude, she's so into you, into you!" Dustin breaks the silence as Robin nods.

"And I'd say it's the same for Harrington here." Robin grins as a massive smile spreads across Steve's face.

He starts excitedly thrashing frontwards and backwards. Enough to shake the car and look like he's about to rip the steering wheel from it's column. He lets out an excited yell, causing his two friends to laugh at him.

He let out a long breath, looking at them.

"She says hi by the way."

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 6

<;-----part 5, part 7----->

“Alright class listen up!” Miss Delight called out. The children settled down and listened to what she had to say. “As you know, our fall festival is approaching which means that it’s time to start our yearly fall theater show! Normally each group would perform separately but this time my sisters and I have decided to combine everyone together! I’m proud to say that this year we will be doing; drum roll please!” Everybody's hands started tapping on the desk for the drumroll. Me and DogDay also joined in with the children. “Beauty and The Beast!”  

Some kids were ecstatic while others groaned in annoyance. I liked Beauty and The Beast. “Tryouts will start around 5 o’clock. Those who wish to be a part of it please come up to my desk to receive the tryout scripts. And to those who do not wish to be a part of the show will be assigned as the stage crew.” Most of the children got up and went over to Miss Delights desk while a few stayed in their seats. Damian got up to get a script. “Our script is usually handed to us right before auditions start.” DogDay whispered to me. “Huh? ‘Our script?’ We have to audition also?” DogDay smiled and nodded. “Gives us a chance to interact with the other kids.” I wasn’t expecting this. DogDay pulled me into him before saying, “I have full faith in you Angel, who knows you might get the lead!” “Haha....woopie.” 

--------------- 

The theater room was huge! From the outside it doesn’t look like this room even existed. Me and DogDay walked in together and this was the first time that I’ve seen all the Smiling Critters. “Hi DogDay!” “Hiya BB!” DogDay walked over to the group, and I followed behind him. “Oh? And who’s this?” The way Bobby Bearhug spoke sounded like she was not at all interested in knowing who I was but asked anyways. DogDay scooted me into him and held onto my shoulder. “This is my helper, Angel!” His tail wagged while talking about me. I smiled nervously at all the Smiling Critters; except for KickenChicken. I just rolled my eyes at him.  

Miss Delight came up to us and split the helpers and the Smiling Critters apart. I took a seat next to Sarah since she’s the only one I’ve really talked to. It was obvious that she didn’t want to talk to anyone since she put in headphones. I looked over to the Smiling Critters and saw that Bobby was just chatting away with DogDay. In the shadows I spotted CatNap. I tilted my head in confusion; weren’t they all supposed to be friends? I got up from my seat and started walking towards him. My heart was beating faster, and my palms got sweaty.  

“Hey CatNap.” I said nervously. It took ten seconds before he finally spoke. “Friend.” So creepy. I cleared my throat to talk but he beat me too it. “Sorry.” Woah, he apologized. “Wanted to apologize sooner.... but was kept away.” Kept away? “Oh that’s okay. What do you mean you were kept away?” He just stared at me again. “Doctors.” I was gonna press on but a voice from behind me caught me off guard. “Oh Y/N! It’s almost time for you to go on!” I turned around and saw that it was Miss Delight. “O-okay, coming!” I turned back around, and CatNap vanished once again. 

--------------- 

Two hours passed and soon everyone in Playcare auditioned. Miss Delight and her sisters all went backstage to select the cast while everyone else sat in the seats waiting for the verdict. I spotted Damian and made my way over to him. “Hey kiddo.” “Hey Miss Y/N.” I took a seat next to him and smiled. “So do you think you’ll get a part?” He asked me. I chuckled before saying, “Nah. I mean I did do theater back in high school, but it’s been a while.” It would be interesting if I got casted. In high school, I never got the lead due to being a nervous wreck. “How about you?” Damian looked proud and sat up straight. “Oh yes, I’m hoping I get cast at the candle man. He’s my favorite.” “I’m hoping you’ll get the part.” I ruffled his hair and then got up and looked for DogDay.  

It wasn’t hard to spot him since he was the second tallest one here, CatNap being the first. As I started walking over to him he spotted me and waved me over to him. “Over here Angel!” I couldn’t help but smile sweetly at him. He held out his paw for my hand and once I took it he pulled me into a hug. “I missed you Angel.” “I always looked over to you and waved.” I laughed and returned the hug. “Yes, but I would’ve rather had you sit next to me Angel.” My cheeks felt warm. Thankfully, the theatre room wasn’t lit up well so he couldn’t see. “Oh DogDay~” We both turned and saw that it was Bobby calling out for DogDay. “Y/N shouldn’t you be with the other helpers and not over here with DogDay?” Okay rude. “She’s allowed to be over here with me, she’s my helper.” DogDay said. I could see Bobbys’ eye twitch before saying, “Oh of course! Anyways DogDay; do you think I got the lead?” I pulled away from DogDay so that he could face her. While he spoke he held onto my hand. “No doubt in my mind that you auditioned well BB, but I think Angel here did pretty good as well.”  

Another eye twitch from Bobby. “Well seeing how I always get the lead I’m fully confident.” The lights suddenly flashed on, and everyone's attention went to the stage. Miss Delight stood there with her sisters. “Okay everyone! We are about to announce our cast if you could quiet down and take your seats!” Everyone started to take their seats. I was about to sit next to DogDay when Bobby beat me to it. I then tried the other seat next to him, but then KickenChicken sat there. “Hey Angel.” He spoke out while grinning. I was gonna leave and sit somewhere else, but DogDay grabbed onto me and placed me on his lap. “You don’t mind sitting like this do you Angel?” “N-nope! Not at all haha...” I could feel Bobby glaring daggers at me. 

Miss Delight started calling names and Damian got cast as Lumière. He walked onto the stage and me and DogDay cheered him on like proud parents. She then called out the rest of the cast: Miss Delight would play Mrs. Pots, Chip would be played by Todd; a kid from my group, Babette was played by Miley; a girl from CraftyCorns group, Wardrobe was played by Emily who was KickenChickens helper, PickyPiggy would be The Enchantress and Bubba Bubbaphant would be Maurice. “And now for our final four!”  

“Lefou will be played by Hoppy Hopscotch!” “Woo yeah!” Hoppy jumped up and walked over to the stage. DogDay clapped for his friends. “Next up we have Gaston who will be played by... KickenChicken!” “Radical!” KickenChicken got up and made his way up onto the stage. “And now the role of The Beast will be played by- drum roll please!” The sound of everyone hitting their legs echoed through the room. “DogDay!” All eyes turned towards the back of the theater where DogDay was. “Really? Wow!” I got up and hugged DogDay excitedly. “Congrats DogDay!” “Thank you Angel!” “Congratulations DogDay~” Bobby said while removing one of DogDays paws off me. “You and I will be great together.” DogDay pulled his paw away and said, “They haven't announced who Belle would be played by so it might not be you BB.” He said that so cheerfully while making his way up to the stage that I almost laughed.  

I took a seat and Bobby glared at me before saying, “It’s pretty obvious that I’ll get the lead, I get it every time when we do it in our groups.” She sounded so cocky while she spoke. I didn’t say anything and just looked ahead at the stage. DogDay gave Damian a high five and also ruffled the top of his head. “Now ladies and gentlemen the moment you’ve all been waiting for; Belle will be played by-” “ME!” Bobby stood up proudly. “Miss Y/N!” Everyone in the audience gasped. I guess they all were expecting it to be Bobby. A spotlight shun down on me and I sunk into my seat. “Woo yay Angel!” “Way to go Miss Y/N!!” DogDay and Damian both cheered for me. I stood up and walked over to the stage with everyone else.  

As I made my way up the audience started to cheer for me; I even saw Sarah give me a thumbs up. I stood on the stage with everyone else and Miss Delight spoke out. “Those of you who did not audition or did not get cast will oversee the set and props! I look forward to this year's fall theater show!” All the remaining children and helpers stood up and applauded while Bobby glared even more daggers at me. “This role was made for you Angel, you’re already quite a beauty.” He then winked at me and stuck his tongue out. This time I’m sure he saw me blushing. Damian ran up to both of us and pulled us into a hug. It almost seemed like a kid hugging his parents; it was a sweet moment.  

A/N: Thank you for reading!!

[corroded-hellfire]

Idk if you're taking requests but I got an idea for the As You Wish AU!

I used to babysit for this couple who were complete metalheads and they had a 6 month old. Whenever I couldn't make her stop crying and put her down for a nap, I played "Crazy Train" and she immediately stopped crying when Ozzy screamed "ALL ABOARD!". She would jump in my arms for a bit, then be out like a light before the song was even over.

I can totally see that with Eddie and Eliza ❤

I’m pretty sure this is Eddie’s proudest moment as a father

Words: 1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Oh, thank God.”

You heave a sigh of relief and let your bag fall to the floor next to your feet. The hours long car ride home from your weekend with your sister not only exhausted you, but it made your muscles stiff and sore. Your neck has the most knots in it, so you roll it out as you walk further into the house, deciding you’ll pick up your bag later.

“Perfect, you’re home!”

Eddie darts down the hallway, a grin on his face, and Eliza in his arms.

“Hi.”

You can’t help but smile at the sight of their faces. Two pairs of dark chocolate eyes and the same shade of messy curls.

Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to your lips before he holds Eliza close enough to your face so you can pepper kisses along her cheeks.

“I missed you both,” you say. “Where are my boys?”

“Luke’s in the shower and Ryan went with Wayne to bring home ice cream for everyone,” Eddie tells you. “How was your weekend with Gin?”

“Good,” you say, reaching out and running a finger down the side of your six-month-old’s face. “Nice to be home, though. How was Liza without me overnight? Cause I was quite cranky without her.”

“She missed you,” Eddie says. He puts his left hand on her tummy and his wedding ring glints in the lamp light as he rubs over her fuzzy pajamas. “Took longer than usual for her to fall asleep. But I taught her a trick!”

The excitement in Eddie’s eyes makes you laugh and shake your head in amusement.

“She's not a dog,” you say.

“Tell that to Luke.”

“Is he still using little pieces of banana to try and get her to crawl?” you ask with a mix between a chuckle and a sigh.

“This is what we get for not letting him adopt a pet, I guess. But, come on!”

Eddie turns and shuffles back down the hall toward Eliza’s room, far too much energy in his step for your exhausted body. You trail behind him, but he passes by the pink princess nursery and takes your daughter into your room. He stays standing near your dresser, but you pass by to go and take a seat on the bed.

“Ah! Before you sit down, can you hit play on the stereo?” Eddie asks.

You furrow your brow as you pivot in the direction of the stereo tucked in the corner.

“Did you find a new bedtime song for her?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie answers with a laugh. “Worked like a charm last night. I’m hoping it was more than a one-time thing because it was perfect.”

“Uh huh,” you hum as your finger hovers over the play button. It makes a soft clicking sound as you press it, then you turn around and give your full attention to Eliza in her father’s arms.

Ozzy’s maniacal laugh bursts forth from the speakers and you restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. It doesn’t surprise you in the least that your husband attempted to use Crazy Train as a lullaby when left alone with her.

To your surprise though, Eliza quickly becomes alert when she hears that laughter. Her back straightens and her neck is craned towards the stereo, as if she’s waiting for more.

“Awwh abwooooah!”

Eliza’s baby babbling may not have made quite the same sounds as Ozzy’s “All Aboard” call, but she had the tune and timing of it down pat.

Buh dun. Buh dun, buh dun, buh dun.

As the bass leads into the guitar, Eliza begins to thrash around in Eddie’s arms. She jumps and bounces as the song’s intro blends into the chorus. Eddie’s watching her with a proud and entertained grin on his face. His hold on her is secure, which is a good thing with all the bopping around she’s doing.

Eddie looks from her to you, and the two of you share an amused look. Eliza’s small head begins to shake back and forth, the short spiral curls whipping back and forth as she does. It’s the best headbanging attempt you’ve ever seen from a six-month-old.

About halfway through the song, Eliza’s movements begin to slow. Instead of full out throttling in her dad’s arms, she’s just weaving from side to side now. You can see as sleep catches her in its grip, her eyes becoming heavy and her moves turning into slow motion. By the time the song is playing its final notes, Eliza has her head smushed up against Eddie’s shoulder, eyes closed and small pink lips parted just slightly.

Once the song ends, you press the stop button so the next track doesn’t start. With a soft chuckle, you walk towards your husband and daughter.

“I’m impressed,” you admit.

“I finally have a heavy metal child,” Eddie says, which makes you chuckle again.

“She’s only six months, babe. Still plenty of time for me to turn her into a pop princess.”

“Don’t you threaten me,” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You press a kiss to his stubbled cheek and straighten the back of Eliza’s purple onesie that got twisted from all her moving about. Eddie gives a gentle kiss to the top of Eliza’s curls before heading to her room a few doors down. The sound of the shower running echoes through the hall as you follow Eddie into the nursery.

Slowly, Eddie lowers the baby into her crib, while you turn on her nightlight that’s shaped like a princess crown.

“Sleep tight, Ozzliza,” Eddie whispers.

You turn to your husband with an affronted face. As annoyed as the nickname makes you, it’s impossible not to laugh as you scold him.

“Never call our daughter that again, please.”

Eddie smirks and throws his arm over your shoulders as he leads you both to the door.

“As long as you never leave me again for a whole weekend,” he says.

“Deal.” You slip your arm around his small waist as you step into the hallway. “I can’t sleep without you, anyway.”

“Well, guess you’ll just have to sleep with me tonight.”

The double entendre is clear and, somehow, you don’t feel quite as exhausted as you did a few minutes ago.

[celestialglow24]

•••Promise Me•••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

You finally see Frank again after months of being apart with no explanation.

hi friends. more Frank angst because this man has taken over my mind lately and i think you all should suffer with me. please enjoy xx

The walk back home from the restaurant wasn’t too bad of a trek. You had convinced yourself it’d be alot faster than waiting around for an uber, or bothering your cousin at 12 am to come down there and pick you up.

Was it wise? Probably not. But the multiple shots of liquid courage—fueled with the desire to take a long hot shower—gave you a sense of confidence no one would have been able to shake.

So you said your goodbyes to the group you were with, telling them a little white lie that your ride was here, and began walking home.

As the loud street music and bustling noise of downtown nightlife started to fade, that confidence began to wane.

It was really quiet out here, and no one was around from what you could tell. You could see the sign for a park a little ways ahead and that managed to level your nerves.

Your cousin’s apartment wasn’t too far from there and if you kept at the pace you were moving, you could get there in 10 minutes or so.

God you hated wearing heels. You’d yet to find a pair that didn’t make you want to cut off your feet and curse the ground after only a couple of hours of use.

There was a part of you that was half tempted to take them off and walk the rest of the way barefoot, but after already passing several broken bottles along the street, you decided you didn’t want to chance a night in the ER.

All things considered you were proud of yourself for going out tonight. It had been months since you’d done anything besides: work, sleep, eat, repeat.

Save for a few weekends now and then of binge watching a true crime doc with your cousin Lucy or a trip to the dog park with her dog Penny, you hardly allowed yourself any time to relax.

Anything to avoid your mind having the opportunity to think of him. To think of your past.

So when your coworker invited you out with people from your department to celebrate their recent promotion, you decided to let yourself enjoy a night out. You felt you had earned it.

You hadn’t been working for the company very long, but you got along with everyone pretty well. It was nice of them to include you.

It was certainly more fun than you expected to have but after your brain had tried multiple times to convince you that you’d seen someone that wasn’t there—someone who you hadn’t seen in months—you knew it was time to go.

6 months.

6 months and you still searched for him in a room full of people.

It was pathetic.

Even now, as you walked the nearly empty streets you felt him. You didn’t know how— and despite logic and reason battling with these inexplicable feelings— it still felt like you could sense his presence.

Yeah, this had to be the alcohol talking.

You tightened your trenchcoat around your torso in an effort to self soothe and offered a half smile to the few people you walked by on your way toward the park.

As you rounded the sidewalk, you pulled your phone out to text your cousin that you’d be home any minute. She was probably already sleeping but you wanted to give her the heads up anyway.

Anything to avoid her attacking you with a broom like she did the one time you got home late from work.

Just as you went to tuck your phone back in your coat pocket it slipped out of your hand, landing on the ground face down with a loud crack.

“Fuck” you cried, bending down to asses the damage. Thankfully you had a screen protector, so the actual screen was fine. But man you had done a number on it. The uneven cracks that splintered the screen made it difficult to read the time and notifications.

As you rose from your squatting position, you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye ducking behind a car across the street.

You felt your stomach drop.

Slowly… you stood up taller, squaring your shoulders and trying to steady your breathing. You calmly reached for the front clasp of your clutch, thanking any god or the universe that you managed to stow your taser earlier that night.

You chose not to make any sudden movements. Instead you waited. You waited for so long you were starting to question if you had seen anything at all. Maybe you misunderstood and it was the alcohol messing with your senses.

But when you saw the tip of a black hoodie through the window of the car you knew you weren’t losing it.

“Who’s there?” you shouted.

No response.

“Listen,” your voice shook, “I’m about 10 seconds away from dialing 911 so if you’re not interested in explaining to the cops why you’re sneaking up on -”

“Ain’t no need for all that.” You heard a voice call back.

Your breath stilled. As soon as the voice hit you, it was like the ground beneath you had been ripped away. You didn’t even feel like you were in your own body anymore.

You dug your nails into your palm, trying to startle yourself awake. Surely you had to be dreaming.

But when the figure stood and faced you, their hood falling back to reveal their face, you couldn’t deny what you were seeing.

There were so many emotions swelling inside you at once. Disbelief, disappointment, anger and relief.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel so many things at once.

Perhaps the most compelling was the realization that despite everything, you still felt love. So much love that it made you feel weak.

It almost made you forget everything that’s happened.

The feelings of abandonment. The nights of endless tears. The calls and messages that would never seem to go through.

Feelings of confusion. Of constantly wondering what you did wrong.

Questioning if any of it was ever as real to him as it was to you.

You could almost forget it all. Run right across the street into his arms. Hug him and kiss him over and over. Tell him how much you missed him. How much you need him. How much you forgive him if you could just be together again.

But as quickly as those thoughts teased your mind, the feelings of anger and betrayal enveloped you like an unrelenting wave.

You couldn’t allow the love you felt to erase the hell you’ve endured. You wouldn’t.

So you swallowed the tears that threatened to spill and turned away, making bigger strides to get back to your cousin’s apartment.

You could hear him shout your name but you kept moving.

He must have crossed the street because you could hear him calling directly behind you.

You didn’t stop. You didn’t say a word. You just kept moving.

Choosing to run was just plain stupid, but it was your only resort to get away fast.

Not only was it stupid because your feet hurt like hell and you were risking a face plant any second, but it was stupid because he was the fucking punisher.

Any attempt to try and outrun him was pointless. He’d be able to catch you before you could even finish your next thought.

“Hey!” he yelled, finally catching up to you and grabbing your arm. “Just hold up would you?”

“No!” you shouted, yanking yourself out of his grasp. You took a few steps backward and he held his arms up in defense.

At this point you know you looked like a mess. The hot tears you were trying to suppress had spilled over and you could taste the salt of them on your tongue.

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to hate him so much but seeing the pained look on his face broke your heart.

To be honest he looked like shit. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in months. His beard was long and unkempt. It even looked like he’d lost weight. And his eyes, the biggest tell of all, were sad and empty.

“I just want to talk.” he spoke calmly.

You shook your head. “How did you find me?”

When you left the witness protection program you didn’t even tell Madani where you were going. She tried to pry it out of you, swearing that it was her duty as her job and as a friend to know. However, you wouldn’t budge.

The people that were after Frank had been taken care of according to Dinah. You didn’t want to continue living out the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.

So you thanked her for all of her help and you wished her the best, but you didn’t want any ties to your life back then. You didn’t want any more reminders of him.

“He asks about you, you know?” she had said during your last conversation. “Every week like clockwork. I haven’t told him anything. Just that you’re safe and happy.”

You scoffed, “Well at least one of those is true.”

She was silent for a moment. “I hope you can give yourself a chance to be happy again. Love doesn’t always look the way we want it to and life is hardly ever fair, but once we choose to accept the pieces we are given…. we can allow ourselves to move on.”

You know Dinah meant well. And you appreciated how close the two of you had gotten based on the circumstances. But you weren’t sure if you could agree with what she was suggesting. It felt impossible to move on when your whole body still ached for him.

“Thank you Dinah.” you relented, “Who knew you could be so therapeutic?”

“Just part of the charm.” she laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between you. You were sitting on the balcony of your cousin’s apartment, and for a brief second you felt a little bit of excitement at the opportunity to start over.

Your cousin had managed to get you a job and while it wasn’t exactly what you were doing before, it was familiar work.

You’d be working for a publishing company polishing and approving manuscripts. It was boring, monotonous work but it was safe.

You thanked Madani again and expressed the hope of following up again someday in the future.

Then you changed your number and disabled your emails.

You knew doing so wouldn’t stop them from being able to find you if they really wanted to. Her and Frank were both good for that. But it gave you a sense of control for now. That you were the one deciding to distance yourself this time and the choice wasn’t being made for you.

“Could we go some place to talk?”, his voice broke you out of the memory.

You crossed your arms.

“No. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere after months of silence expecting to just talk. I have nothing to say to you.”

The words that tumbled out of your mouth were meant to be delivered with strength and conviction. Instead, they sounded more like someone trying to convince themselves that they believed them.

“I can explain whatever you want. Just let’s get out of the cold here, there’s a diner not too far out.” he said, tilting his head back towards where you came from. “We could get a cup of co-”

“No, Frank, I want to stay right here.”

He closed his mouth, but you could tell he was trying to keep his composure. You were being stubborn and as much as you hated being in the cold, you didn't want to be around other people.

You didn’t want to take the chance of losing your shit while people were trying to enjoy their food in peace.

“I get that you’re angry, but there’s a lot you don’t understand. I was just trying to protect you.” he tried to reason.

“You left me Frank. You didn’t text, you didn’t call. You left me completely in the dark.” you cried, wiping angrily at your face to rid the tears that were escaping.

“Do you know how scared I was? Having strangers show up to my house and basically tell me I couldn’t exist as me anymore? I had to move and change my name. And the one person I needed more than anything—the one person who could make all of it feel okay— wouldn't even answer a damn phone call.”

You suddenly felt like you were back in the empty apartment Madani had set you up in. You hardly knew her before that day, she was just “someone who had worked with Frank before”, according to what she told you.

But she kept giving you this look. This look that both expressed the pity she felt for you and the wonder of how you ended up in a situation like this? How you managed to get mixed up in the world of Frank Castle?

But you had met him after he had left that life behind him. And according to him, the life that he was never going back to. Things had been good for so long that you never even questioned it until that day. Now you didn’t even know what was real.

“You were in danger alright? I had angered some really powerful people. I had hurt them, did things I’m not proud of and I wasn’t about to let you take the fall for it. You weren’t safe with me.”

“I was always safe with you!” you shouted, “Who else could’ve kept me more safe than you? We could’ve worked it out together, we could’ve came up with a plan—” you stopped as you watched Frank shake his head in disbelief, “What, Frank? What the fuck is that about?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Come up with a plan? Really?” he scoffed, “This isn’t team sports. It’s not some dumb escape room you sit around and solve clues in. It’s real fucking life.”

You looked down at your feet. The escape room comment was a low blow. It was something you loved doing and grumpy Frank hated. He’d go along with it if you planned it, not bothering to hide his disdain at first, but by the end of it you knew he had fun with you.

You didn’t think he’d throw it in your face as a means to mock you.

“Frank, we were partners. That’s what you do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “You work through things together. As a team. Not one person taking over and telling the other person what to do all the time, but see you didn’t ever want to do that did you? You didn’t think I was capable right?”

“Don’t go there.” he warned. You could see his hands start to twitch. In the past his agitation would have gotten you to dial it back a little. You hated fighting with him and it was never worth it.

But this time you didn’t care. You didn’t understand why he was the one so angry.

“Why not?” you probed, “You always made it seem like I was one mistake away from getting myself hurt.”

“That’s because you never took things seriously. You had no sense of danger. Too trusting, too carefree, too-”

“Stupid?” you interjected.

“I didn't say that.” he shot back. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to find some place to channel the tension. You could tell this was not how he wanted the conversation to be going either.

You couldn’t believe you were having this same fight. It was something you never got along about.

You tried to be understanding. You both had different life experiences and because Frank had a military background, he had been trained to look at things a certain way.

He was trained to look for a threat and “take it out before it took you”. Transitioning back to civilian life wasn’t always that simple. Those habits could be hard to unlearn.

It wasn’t always bad, but it wasn’t always necessary.

Not every stranger was a potential threat set out to hurt you.

Staying late at work didn’t mean you were in danger and someone was holding you hostage.

Interviewing a source for your upcoming news article didn’t immediately put a target on your back.

But Frank always anticipated the worst.

You know it was his way of expressing his love but it could be a lot at times. You just wanted to enjoy life together without always feeling like there was some danger lurking around the corner waiting to get you.

“Go ahead Frank,” you continued, “Let me hear how stupid it was for me to walk home by myself tonight. How naive it was to risk getting hurt when I should’ve called a cab.”

“I ain’t gonna act like it was a good idea, and up until a few minutes ago I’m sure you were realizin it wasn’t either.”

You let out a groan.

“I was almost home, besides I don’t think anyone would’ve tried anything with the big bad punisher stalking me.” you said, throwing your arms out dramatically.

“I mean really Frank, what was your plan? Were you just gonna jump out and shout surprise? Were you gonna follow me home to make sure no one grabbed me? Stare down the cars that drove past me? The people that passed me? What was the fucking point?”

For a moment he didn’t say anything.He kept his gaze down at his boots. The twitching of his hands had stopped, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest had slowed down.

“I needed to see you.”

The phrase was simple, but it held such weight.

You understood what he meant. You felt the desperation in his voice. And yet you couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling up.

“What about all the times I needed to see you? To hear your voice? Why didn’t I deserve the decency of a phone call, a text message, anything?”

“I couldn’t risk it.”

“Bullshit.” you spat. “You could risk asking Madani about me?”

His head shot up at that.

“Are we gonna do this all night?” he asked, the anger picking up in his voice again, “Huh? We’re gonna just keep yelling at each other? Who was right? Who was wrong?”

“Yes Frank because I’m angry with you! You made me feel unimportant. You made me feel helpless, like I had no control over my own damn life anymore.” You stepped closer, making sure he couldn’t avoid your eyes.

“You pushed me away like I meant nothing to you!” you shoved him.

“No.” he shouted, “I pushed you away because you meant everything to me!”

He turned away and let out a deep breath through his nose. The weight of his words slamming into you like a wrecking ball.

“Everyone I've ever cared about gets hurt because of me. Because of my demons. Because of the shit I've done to other people. I couldn't take that chance with you. They were so close to hurting you. I had to do something. That’s why I contacted Madani. That’s why we got you into witness protection.”

You felt the sting of the tears start to swell up again. From anger, frustration or sadness you couldn’t tell. Maybe it was all three.

“You want to know why I couldn’t say goodbye to you? Why I couldn’t call you? It’s because I knew—,” he paused and looked off to the side, “I knew that if I saw you—if I just heard your fucking voice—I’d change my mind.”

He finally locked eyes with you again, taking a step closer to you. He was testing it out, seeing how close you would let him get. To his surprise you didn’t move away.

“I couldn’t be selfish with you.” he said softly.

You didn’t know what to say. You knew the people that had been after Frank were relentless, but you never once feared for your life. Maybe there was more to it that he kept from you, and you wanted to trust him, but it didn’t diminish what you experienced while he was gone.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry I did it because you’re safe. And I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I’d do it again in a fucking hearbeat if it meant nothing would happen to you.”

“It’s just—.” your voice trembled and you bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t put the words together.

“What is it?” he asked gently, taking another step towards you. This time he was close enough he grabbed the bottom of your chin and tilted it up towards him.

“I really missed you and I didn’t think you cared about me anymore.” You choked.

Suddenly you felt yourself pressed up against his chest as he pulled you into him. “No baby, that’s not true.” he soothed.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest, letting all the pent up emotions slowly release. God you forgot how good it felt to be held by him.

All the nights you longed for this very feeling. For him to hug you and kiss you and tell you everything was gonna be alright.

You could feel your unsteady breathing start to level out again and all the anger and frustration slowly disappear. It was as if he was a magnet, pulling out the deepest emotions you tried so hard to bury.

“I missed you so fucking much you have no idea.” He pulled back, tilting his head down to look at you.

You both locked eyes and without thinking twice you kissed him. He responded instantly, pulling you so tightly against him it was as if he was trying to swallow you whole.

That feeling people mention of the world standing still—you finally understood what that meant.

When you couldn’t breathe anymore you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“What does this mean, Frank?” you quietly asked. “Can we be together now? Do we just go back to the way things were before?”

He was quiet for a moment and you almost regretted asking the question.

“It’s whatever you want it to be sweetheart.” he finally answered, “You tell me.”

You weren’t sure what to say. One half of you wanted to be together again. The other half wasn’t so sure you should give in this easily.

What if it happened again? You didn’t doubt there were more people out there that’d like to see Frank Castle and the people he loved, hurt.

Would he push you away? You didn’t think you could survive it a second time.

“Frank, I love you. I want to be with you. But I need you to treat me like an equal. I want to be included in decisions. I don’t want to be kept in the dark again, it isn’t fair.”

Though he wasn’t speaking, you could tell the thoughts were churning in his head.

“If something like this comes up again I want to know about it. I want to have a say in how we handle it. Can you please promise me that?”

Frank let out a heavy sigh. He had to fight with the selfish side of him that wanted to say no. This shouldn’t even be something you have to worry about. He’s the one that should be responsible, not you.

But if he was being honest with himself these past several months were hell. He hated not being with you and maybe compromising would be the best thing to do after all.

He didn’t like making promises in general, but as he looked into your eyes he couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore. He needed to be with you just as much as you needed him too.

“Okay.” he agreed quietly.

“Promise me.” you urged again. You needed to hear him say it.

“I promise.”

You didn’t even realize how tense your body had become until you felt your shoulders relax. Frank pulled you into him again and you could feel the tension in him relax as well.

If anyone would have told you an hour ago you’d be standing in the middle of the street being held by Frank you would’ve told them they were crazy.

There were nights you never thought this moment would come. So as the two of you continued to stand there, holding onto each other. You realized there was probably nothing in this world that could match this feeling.

You would make sure that no matter what was waiting for you around the corner, you’d never let go again.

[mangocustard16]

SEVENTEEN'S REACTION TO THEIR S/O BEING DOCTOR/SURGEON

genre: fluff warnings: fake diseases, mentions of ER, hospitals, accidents and blood lmk if i missed someting wc: 512 a/n: i really wanted to use the 'spin wheel thingy' so i chose 6 members using this also i have zero medical knowledge so don't come at me with for the medical terms

mingyu

excited to use all the cheesy pickup lines he learned from the internet

“Doctor! I think there’s something wrong with my heart. It keeps fluttering every time I see you.”

super proud, brags about it everywhere

got a cold and called Hoshi to tell him that he couldn't come for practice cuz he got rhinorrhea

acts like he gains medical knowledge just by being in your presence

seungkwan

loves absolutely loveeesss to introduce you as Dr. Y/N

would cringe whenever he hears you talk about surgery or every time you describe a particular night in the ER

doesn't understand patient privacy, don't get him wrong he respects them

but whenever you tell him about a specific patient, he has to know their name to relate more to the story

brought back a hurt dog so that you could help him heal

"Baby I’m not a veterinarian! Take out the car we need to go to a vet"

joshua

you had been out of med school for about three weeks and had applied for different hospitals and hospices but no one had gotten back to you

joshua was very supportive, driving you to all the interviews and buying you meals

As you stared at the floor soaking in the rejection, you felt a little sad and upset when the doorbell rang and the mailman dropped off a mail

you asked joshua to read the mail for you, not having the energy to get off the couch just to read another "We regret to inform you." letter

"Dear Dr. Y/l/n, we would like to first thank you for your application to work at our hospital, we hope you can come by to discuss your working hours by-"

"I'M IN!" You screamed throwing yourself into joshua's arms

jeonghan

he knew that being an EMT was a very emotionally taxing job and that you've to desensitize yourself towards accidents to help the patients

but boy is beyond shocked when he sees you in action

someone had accidentally slipped down the stairs and hit their head

you jumped right into action and called an ambulance while a pool of blood surrounded their head while everyone around you froze 

scoups

He would be so happy you were a doctor and that you were so smart 

he would love to see you talk about work and patients and speak about some things he didn’t even get

would be your number one supporter

loves to wear your coat and act like a doctor

"Sneezes, headache, and pelvis pain.... yeah you just have noseadvisitis, there is no cure it just comes with old age byee"

expect lots and lots of fake medical terms cuz he loves to pretend like he knows medicine

dino

everything's fine as long as you are not descriptive about wounds 

urges you to describe your day at the hospital

but grimaces at the mention of blood

finds it kind of weird that you don't smell like the hospital

homeboy always thought that the doctors smelled like the hospital, but is internally grateful that you don't smell like the hospital

is very nosy whenever he sees you studying

"I thought you already passed med school? What are you studying for now"

@kflixnet @k-films@k-labels

taglist⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅: @bangchansbae @haecien @aaniag @aaasia111 @weird-bookworm @gigification @bewoyewo if you want to be added just send me an ask ♡⸝⸝

reblog if you liked !!

[guitarstringed-scars]

on stage- s. hinata

act two, scene four: opening night and final bows

masterlist

the morning passes quickly. you spend it pacing back and forth in your apartment, changing your outfit 6 times, and freaking out. you’ve done this before, directed a play. this is what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it feels so nerve wracking every time. sure you told shoyo that you weren’t nervous, he doesn’t need to know anyway. it’ll only make him nervous, and he needs to give the performance of a lifetime tonight.

finally its 1:00, and you head out of the apartment. you want to get there early to make sure the house is all clean, and ready for however many people come tonight. the programs have been delivered and sit on the front desk of the theater building. you grab the box and start to unpack them. on the front cover, it reads ‘directed by y/n l/n’ and you can’t help but smile. directly under it there is ‘written by keiji akaashi’. you feel proud of your friends and all of the hard work they dedicate to this, just to help you out. kozume who spends late nights setting up lights. shimizu who learned how to work the sound for you. hitoka who adds on costumes for your plays on top of her mountain of items to make for her studies. you also feel grateful for koutaro who even though you’ll never let him in one of your productions, he continues to be your biggest cheerleader, and toru who always puts his heart into every performance.

you feel especially grateful for shoyo, who has quickly become a shining light in this production. even if you barely spoke for 3 weeks, the rest of the time he was the kindest, most enthusiastic, excited person on the cast. you are snapped out of your thoughts by hitoka and shimizu entering the building.

“happy opening night!” hitoka cheers, bounding over to you and tackling you in a hug. “we did it!”

“don’t jinx it! we haven’t even opened yet!” you say, quickly shutting her down.

“well everything you and me can do is done, it’s on everyone else now!” she continues celebrating.

shimizu laughs and leaves to set up for sound. kenma shows up soon after.

“you’ll be in the booth tonight, right?” he asks you.

“yup! i’ll probably show up a bit after show start.” you say. he nods and heads into the booth.

you and hitoka continue setting up the lobby for the next half hour as the cast starts shuffling in. you greet everyone, and hitoka heads down to the costume closet.

shoyo shows up at exactly 2. he rushes in, and half hazardly shoots you a distracted nod. just as soon as he’s there, he’s gone in the costume shop without a hello.

you spend the next 4 hours doing busy work, trying to distract yourself from the show, and rushing around when you bump into shoyo.

he’s in his costume, and looks absolutely perfect. only downside is he isn’t wearing his stage makeup.

“oh shoot, i completely forgot i said i’d do your makeup, come on shoyo!” you grab his hand and drag him to the dressing room. it’s emptied out by this point, just soft music playing off of a speaker in the corner. shoyo plops down in a chair as you grab some makeup. as you pat the foundation into his skin, he finally begins to speak.

“i’m nervous.” he says.

“i know. you’ve been quiet today.”

he laughs a bit as you brush his face with powder.

“i don’t want to mess this up.” he says.

“and like i keep saying, you wont.”

he goes quiet again, looking at his reflection from the corner of his eye.

“this makeup makes me look funny.” he says, giggling a bit.

“thats the point.” you say, focusing on darkening his eyebrows.

“really?” he asks.

“no, not really. it just is to make your expressions easier to read from the audience.”

“hm.” he mumbles as you pick up the lipstick. it’s about the same color as his lips now. as you open the cap, he speaks again. “can i kiss you before you put it on?” he asks. you look up from focusing on the lipstick. you giggle a bit before applying the lipstick on him. he frowns slightly.

as you finish up his makeup he stands up to leave. you turn his face before he can stand up, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“break a leg!” you shout, rushing out of the room. you don’t look back, but if you did, you would’ve seen a flustered shoyo standing in shock.

you rush to the lobby, greeting audience members as they enter. you cheerfully hand them programs up until 10 minutes until show time. you hand off your stack of programs to hitoka and rush back stage.

“PLACES” you shout, and then the rushing around intensifies as actors swarm backstage. you rush to the lighting booth, slumping down in the seat next to kenma.

“good job.” he whispers, patting your shoulder as he hands you a headset. you take a breath.

you completely black out during the show. the last two hours are a blank space in your mind. there are two things you know.

one, it was amazing

and

two, you need to get on stage and address the audience.

so number two is exactly what you do. being a director, you aren’t really used to being on stage. so when the hot lights hit your face, you feel the nerves kick in.

“hi, my name is y/n l/n and i directed this play. i wanted to thank you all for coming and supporting university theater, and i also want to recognize the hard work for our cast and crew, so please give them another round of applause!” the audience erupts into cheers. “i hope you find the time to come back tomorrow, or tell your friends and family to attend. thank you again!” you smile and quickly rush off the stage as the audience begins to file out. you quickly rush through the back doors where you are greeted by the cast. toru tackles you in a hug before running off to the lobby with the others. you look out for a head of red hair, but find nothing, so you head to the lobby as well.

as you make it to the lobby, you spot all of your friends. shimizu and kozume both look exausted, hitoka and koutaro are both excitedly chatting about the costumes, and toru looks especially proud of how opening night went. as you approach, you are swept into a suffocating hug from koutaro.

“great stuff y/n! i hope you let me in the next one!” he speaks, a little too loudly for the enclosed space.

“in your dreams bo.” you say, laughing into his shoulder. “if you two are tired, you should head home. i can clean up here tonight, since we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow.” you address shimizu and kozume. shimizu falls into your arms and hugs you.

“y/n, you are the best.” she says as the two of them head off. ”lets all go find shoyo!” toru says, leading the group to the large gathering of boys volleyball players. in the center is the man himself. he smiles and laughs with the others and you feel your heart pang. he notices you quickly, and tackles you in a hug.

“you were incredible.” you mumble into his chest. he says nothing, but you can feel his smile grow against your face.

“i brought these for you.” he says, pulling away from the hug. from his bag he pulls out a slightly smushed bouquet of your favorite flowers. “thats why i was so rushed getting here today, because i was afraid you’d catch on to the surprise.”

you just smile and hug him again.

“i don’t want this show to be over!” he complains.

“hey, we have another show tomorrow, and a date on sunday, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” you say.

and you feel perfectly comfortable.

a/n: IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! there is a possibility of bonus stuff but i need a break from this! my first ever fic is done! this may be some of my worst writing ever, but that is okay because it's done, and i love it and i love shoyo. OKAY YAY BYE READ MY OTHER STUFF!

[spilledbeans116]

Just In Case

(Vegeta x Reader)

Vegeta x fem!reader -6,207 Words - SFW - No use of Y/N

Fan of Vegeta x Bulma? Find an alternate version here! (The first parts match up!)

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This fic is based on a headcanon I have involving the prince and his constant need to wear gloves. I'm putting this here as a side note, but the first chapter is a bit violent. I hope you all enjoy it.

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    Nappa was smiling, as proud as a warrior-nanny could be given the circumstances. Vegeta had aced his first mission under Frieza’s rule without a single hitch, having wiped out an entire planet on his own in just a couple hours. They had hit three more after that, completing twice the work of an adult saiyan could have mustered up. And what, he was only 6? Never before had such latent power been shown in such a young saiyan; his power already rivaled Nappa’s own. On late night’s when the bar was full and Raditz and Vegeta were in bed, Nappa would sit and brag to the other soldiers of Frieza’s army how talented the kid was.

    The bar was dim, the tables around having been emptied as all the patrons gathered around Nappa and listened to his tales. Among them were Ginyu, Burter, and Jeice, all three of whom were rolling their eyes at the display.

    “You should have seen the way he shot through that thing! It was almost three times my size, maybe bigger!” Nappa hiccuped, taking a swig from his mug before slamming his fist on the bar’s counter-top. “It was incredible!”

    From around the corner, a young saiyan who should have been in bed smirked. His smile quickly faltered however, as someone else spoke up.

    “Psh, right,” Ginyu laughed, giving Nappa a shove. “Like a kid could take down one of those on his own. Even Guildo struggles with them!”

    “No, Nappa’s being serious, I saw it myself!” Another soldier yelled, slamming his drink down on the bar. “The kid is a beast! A monster!” 

    Vegeta nodded, crossing his arms and leaning through the doorframe a bit to watch as the older men debated his feats.

    At that Ginyu and Burter laughed, “please! He’s an ape!” Ginyu snorted. “You think that monkey could actually do that on his own? He’s weak, just like his old man. Maybe he got lucky, but nothing more than that.”

    Vegeta clutched his cape and held it at his sides, his anger overtaking him as he fought not to run in there and sucker punch Ginyu in the face; he had already learned once that it wasn’t a good idea, and wouldn’t make an idiot of himself again. Ginyu didn’t believe he could do that? Didn’t think that Vegeta could fight his own battles or overtake a stronger opponent? Fine. He would prove he could; he would show everyone exactly what he could do. And he wouldn’t stop until they believed him.

—

    Months had passed, but for Vegeta, time moved strangely. It felt fleeting and yet too long at the worst of times. Then again, he was still only a child. He had already gotten stronger, not that anyone but Raditz or Nappa noticed and he didn’t give a damn what they thought. Each day and night was the same, he was degraded by the Ginyus to his face and behind his back. His family was gone, his home was gone, and his race was all but eradicated. He was the last remaining saiyan royal and ruled over two; he wasn’t the strongest on the ship nor was he even close to beating Frieza… yet. That day would come, he reassured himself. Until then he was destined to be miserable, to spend everyday fighting to be better only to get no recognition from anyone. That much responsibility and pain weighing down on a child surely wasn’t healthy, especially not when they were forcing themselves to do even more than everyone else.

     Vegeta couldn’t keep track anymore of how many planets he had slaughtered. Their cries of mercy fell on deaf ears. At night, he had nightmares about the faces of those that had met their end in his hands. He wondered who they were, what lives they lived. He was doing to them what had happened to his own home. He tossed and turned each night, enough for Raditz to complain to Nappa that it was keeping him awake.

    Soon he turned 7, still a child in the eyes of a saiyan. After each fight he felt dirtier and dirtier, and visited the showers once, twice, three times a day. The soldiers on the ship joked that the prince was a germaphobe. He was too royal for their peasant germs. He was killing without purpose, without a fight and the guilt was eating away at him slowly, crumbling his sanity with each life he took. He was 8 when it happened.

    Nappa was heading to the bar before he stopped. Something in him, some primal, strange instinct, told him to go to the boys room. He rushed down the halls and to their room, where Raditz was snoring loudly with his arm draped across his face. Vegeta, however, was gone. He couldn’t ask anyone else if they had seen him, as he’d surely be punished for roaming parts of the ship he shouldn’t without Nappa present.

    Vegeta had gotten back late from a mission and decided to go take a shower. His body was covered in blood, none of which was his own. He watched as the red water swirled down the shower drain and slowly became pink, scrubbing his body with a bar of soap as he grunted to himself. Arms, chest, legs, feet, tail, and finally his hands. He lathered the soap between them, watching the bubbles form up and over his hands before rinsing them off in the water. To his surprise, the water revealed the blood was still there.

    “Damn shit must have stained them,” he huffed, turning off the water and drying himself with a towel. He quickly wrapped it around his waist and made his way to the sinks, grabbing his toothbrush and lining it with toothpaste. Until he saw his hands again. No longer tinted red, they were coated in blood. The fur on the end of his tail began to spike as he stared at it, quickly flipping them around to see if he had any open wounds. He ran the water and shoved his hands under it, scrubbing at the blood to get it off. 

     “What the hell!” He snapped, watching as nothing changed. He began to scratch at it, trying to peel it off to know avail. He hissed as he turned the water up, the heat becoming blistering hot as he started to claw at his own hands in a desperate attempt to get the blood off of himself.

    “Why isn’t it coming off!” He yelled, starting to get louder and louder as he grew more desperate. He felt filthy as his consciousness weighed down on him, his sleep deprived body and nightmarish life finally getting the better of him. “Get it off me!”

     Nappa knew he had to be in the showers, as it was the only place the kid ever went to when he wasn’t in the dining halls or his room. With how late it was, the dining halls would have closed ages ago. As he made his way down the corridors of the ship he could hear something. It was quiet at first, but slowly became louder and louder as he got closer to the men's showers. He could hear Vegeta, screaming out in pain. Nappa shot off and slammed through the door to the bathroom, following the sounds of the hysterical screaming until he found the prince by the sinks. Vegeta was sobbing, hands burnt red from the water. 

    “The hell has gotten into you!” Nappa yelled, ripping him away from the sink. He was going to scold the prince when he saw the claw marks all over his hands. Vegeta tried to shove him away, crying out for Nappa to let go of him but it all sounded like gibberish to the older saiyan. 

     “What are you doing!” Nappa yelled at him as Vegeta slammed a hand against his face, trying to make his way back to the sink. “You’re hurting yourself, what are you doing!”

    “I CAN’T GET IT OFF!” Vegeta screamed between sobs. “MY HANDS! THEY’RE COVERED IN BLOOD I CAN’T GET IT OFF!”

    “Vegeta there is no blood!” Nappa yelled, grabbing his wrists and holding him still. “But there’s going to be if you keep tearing at your skin!”

    “DON’T TOY WITH ME NAPPA JUST GET IT OFF ME! PLEASE I CAN’T- I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS PLEASE JUST GET IT OFF!”

    Nappa grabbed the prince and his clothes, clamping a hand over his mouth as he ran out of the bathroom and back towards his room. Vegeta dug his nails into the flesh of Nappa’s hand, sinking his fang’s into Nappa’s palm as the older saiyan grunted in pain. Vegeta was still trying to scream but Nappa’s hand remained firm, refusing to let anyone see the prince like this. The door to Nappa’s bedroom slammed shut as he locked it and tossed the prince on the bed, who immediately tried to book it back out the door. Before he could grab the doorknob, Nappa was in front of him, blocking his escape in the dark room. Vegeta beat his fists against Nappa’s chest, trying and failing to shove him out of the way. Nappa knelt down, taking Vegeta’s hands in his before sliding a pair of white gloves over them.

    “Look! There’s no blood! Now please Vegeta quit it!” He turned the prince’s hands over slowly, showing that nothing had seeped through. “See? You’re fine!”

    Vegeta glanced down, a sniveling mess as he turned his hands over on his own and studied the gloves. They were white, pristine, new, and soft. They cooled his burning hands and the silken fabric felt nice against the cuts he had created. “Th-there’s no more b-blood?”

    “None, Vegeta. There isn’t any blood. Okay?”

    Vegeta nodded as Nappa stood up slowly, making his way to his cabinet and pulling out gauze and ointment. He applied it to his palm first after cleaning it with a towel, Vegeta’s fangs having taken quite the chunk out of his skin. Then he bandaged it, sliding his gauntlets on over after so the prince wouldn’t see the reddish hue that would seep out soon enough. After tossing the towel, he made his way back over to Vegeta, who had calmed down remarkably and yet was still standing in the same spot Nappa had left him. He was staring at his hands, eyes lidded as sleep finally began to overpower him. Nappa grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him over to the bed, setting him down and getting the ointment ready. As he began to pull off Vegeta's gloves, the prince started screaming again, kicking Nappa away and tugging them back down.

   “NO!” He cried out. “NO YOU CAN’T TAKE THEM OFF!”

    “DAMN IT VEGETA I NEED TO MAKE SURE THOSE SCRATCHES DON’T GET INFECTED!”

    “NO! I’M YOUR PRINCE, I DEMAND YOU WILL NOT TAKE THESE OFF! EVER!”

     “Vegeta,” Nappa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep them on forever you’ll have to-”

    “I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!”

    “Vegeta I swear to-”

    “THAT’S AN ORDER NOW DROP IT!” Nappa didn’t say anything after that, handing the prince his pajamas and turning away. Vegeta changed quickly, grunting when he was done. Nappa frowned at the sight of the prince wearing gloves with his pajamas, but chose not to push it further. They’d deal with it in the morning and go to see the doctor then as well. 

    “Do you want me to walk you back to your-”

    Vegeta was quick to cut him off, voice trembling as he ran his hands together in his lap. “Can I stay here tonight?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he refused to meet Nappa’s eyes. Nappa looked down at the prince, an ache in his chest as he stared at the child that was forced to carry so much; but he was just that, a child. He shouldn’t have had to do any of this, not until he was much, much older. He should have been in the palace right now, spending each day training under his father to be the next king, not turned into a killing machine by a freak that regarded them as nothing.

    “Of course, your highness. You can stay here for the night.” Nappa quickly went and changed into his sleep shorts, scooting Vegeta over enough so he could fit along with him on his bed. The prince held his arm tight, body trembling as Nappa laid awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together whatever the hell had just happened. Even after Vegeta had finally dozed off, Nappa remained awake, unsure with what to do with the prince.

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    As time went on, Vegeta learned to live with it the best he could. The cuts he had caused on himself that night healed over, leaving small scars to forever remind him of his own shame and guilt. The blood he saw on his hands never truly went away after that but he learned to pretend he couldn’t see it. With time he was able to remove his gloves, but only for short periods before he’d quickly slip them back on. Just long enough to shower, trim his nails, or give the gloves a quick wash.

     After everything that happened on Earth, after what he did to Nappa, it was as if he were a kid again. The gloves would not come off. Ever. He had killed the man who gave them to him, who had tried to shield him from himself. For what? A power move? Now the gloves themselves were another reminder of his sins, but he found himself unable to swap them with a new pair. Now he was living in some Earth woman’s home after embarrassing himself in front of Frieza and a low level saiyan piece of scum. He slaughtered the Ginyu force, which was a bit of a two edged sword for him. Kakarot was gone at who knows where and he was stuck here, failing to do anything substantial. He had truly lost all meaning to his life.

     The gravity chamber the blue haired woman had helped build was where he spent most of his time. It gave him a break from dealing with everyone, including you. You were the most confusing out of everyone that was on this idiotic planet. He could never get a proper read on you. You were too… upbeat. He didn’t like to dwell on what he thought of you, and unfortunately found himself thinking of you during training at the worst of times.

    He had put his hand up to guard his face at the last moment as the battle bot shot at him, successfully blocking it but not without slight damage to his glove. There, on his right hand, was a clean tear.

    “Shit!” He yelled. “Damn it damn it damn it!” He blew the robot to bits before it could do anymore damage, throwing on his shirt and making his way back towards Bulma’s house. He felt sick as he glanced down at it, the deep red shade staring back at him through the slit.

    He made his way in through the back door, speed walking through the living room and down the hallway to where his bedroom was located. He didn’t have spares, he had never needed a spare. He searched around for anything that could be used as a makeshift glove. He ripped apart shirts and tried to cover it to no avail, too stressed to tie the knots properly with one hand. He shoved the fabric under the glove, only to rip it further. “Shit!”

     He didn’t know how to sew, he was a prince for the Gods’ sakes. He felt sick at the idea of what he was going to have to do but quickly realized there was no other option. He was going to have to ask for help.

—-

    You were sitting at Bulma’s kitchen table, waiting for your friend to get back from her date with Yamcha so the two of you could go shopping. You were sipping a glass of apple juice, the only thing in her fridge at the moment in terms of drinks. The coffee maker was on the fritz ever since Vegeta tried to beat the shit out of it to get it working. Apparently the glowing blue button wasn’t obvious enough for saiyans. You paused mid sip, wondering if perhaps he was partially colorblind. Your thoughts trailed off as he was suddenly standing in front of you, arms crossed and glaring in your general direction.

    “Juice? Seriously? What are you, five?” he frowned, opening the fridge and looking around for something.

    “Good morning to you too, your highness,” you grunted, raising the cup to your lips. “I was going to have coffee but for some reason the machine is broken.”

    He huffed in annoyance but said nothing else. You could tell he had just finished training as he was a dirty, sweaty mess. The singe marks across his suit only proved your point further. “There’s nothing in here,” he frowned, slamming the fridge door shut.

    “Yeah, I heard someone has been staying over and eating everything,” you replied, taking out your phone and scrolling through it. “I have no idea who it could be though.”

    Either he didn’t notice your sarcastic tone or he didn’t care. “Tell the other woman to go get more food then,” he snapped. “It’s not my problem.”

    “You could go get it yourself.”

    “With what money?”

    You rolled your eyes, “You’re a prince, aren’t you?”

    He slammed a hand down flat on the table, leaning beside you to try and meet your eyes. “The hell do you mean by that?”

    Without looking at him you opened your text messages, Bulma’s name quickly popping up. “What do you think?” He tried to glance over at your screen to see what you were going to text her before you shifted the phone away; it was like he was a child. “Do you mind?”

     “Are you texting her? Tell her to get the vanilla protein powder as well, I won’t eat the chocolate one. It’s disgusting.”

     “Yeah yeah sure,” you sighed, instead typing “his royal majesty is awake and grumpy. Please get here soon.” She replied by laughing at your message before sending a picture of her and Yamcha laughing in whatever breakfast restaurant they were in. For now, you were stuck with him.

    “She’s with the beta-male, isn’t she?” He frowned. You nodded.

     “They’re on a date I think? I don’t know, sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

    You were surprised to hear him chuckle at that. “True. However I’d say they’re made for eachother. They’re both annoying and a pain in my ass.”

     “I’ll agree with that first part,” you giggled, setting your phone down and glancing over at him. You took another sip of your juice glass while he looked out the window. “Want me to make you a PBJ or something?”

    “Sure. While you’re at it can you pour me some juice as well and put it in a sippy cup?” He grunted, turning to face you and making an effort to roll his eyes. You don’t know why you even bothered.

    “Just trying to be polite.”

     He seemed like he wanted to say something else before he looked down at his hand. He began to fidget with his gloves a bit, the white things worn to death. When Bulma had offered him new ones he refused, rather rudely you might add, so you chose not to mention them. When designing new training outfits with her for him, gloves were always discussed but never elaborated on. “When is the blue-haired woman coming back?”

    You shrugged, “not sure.”

     He sighed, and for a moment, he sounded relieved. You went to ask him what was up before he started talking.

     “You’re a woman,” he grunted, pulling out a chair and sitting beside you. “You sew, right?”

     Ever charming, this one. “Fuck you but yes, I sew.”

     “I need you to fix my gloves,” he grumbled, continuing to mess with the one on his right hand.

    “I can just make you new-”

    “No,” he snapped, cutting you off quickly. “I need them repaired.”

    “Fine,” you said curtly. “Just leave them by my door and-”

    “No, you'll fix them now.”

    You crossed your arms, “Vegeta I don’t just carry a sewing kit on me.”

     He stared at you blankly before his eyes moved to your purse, which was resting on the back of your chair. “Then what the hell is that for?”

     You pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled sharply as you chose to ignore his question. “Why should I help you in the first place? You’re not exactly-”

    “Please.” The word was uttered so quietly, so pathetically, you were almost positive you had dreamed it. There was no way on Earth that Vegeta had said ‘please’ to you of all people. You skimmed over his face to find he was looking at the table. After a few moments and your lack of response, his eyes snapped up, his face flushing a bright red. “Stop staring at me like that! I’m not going to repeat myself damn it! It’s embarrassing enough!”

    You blinked a few times, trying to hide the shock as you spoke, “come on, I have a kit in my room.” You placed your empty juice glass in the sink, beginning to walk towards the spare room Bulma had designated as your own. 

    The sound of his boots clicked across the wooden floor as he followed you. He was embarrassed to admit he found himself admiring your outfit. It was rare he ever saw you in anything besides casual or training clothes. Today, however, you seemed to be stepping it up. He felt his ears begin to heat up as he stared at your ass and hips before quickly looking at your hair. “Why are you dressed like that?”

     “Like what?” You frowned, glancing back at him. 

    His eyes briefly shot to yours before he glanced away. “You’re… dressed nice.”

     You almost tripped when he complimented you, “oh, uh, thanks.” You said, clearing your throat. “Me and Bulma are going out later.”

     “Why not wear your training gear? What if something were to happen?”

     “Then I fight in this,” you shrugged. “My clothes aren’t what makes me a fighter, Vegeta. Plus with you guys around I’d only get in the way.”

    “Sure, but you’re already weak enough as is. Extra protection wouldn’t hurt.”

    You didn’t know if he was trying to make sure you were safe or simply making fun of you. “With how burned your suit is from the training bots, I don’t think armor makes much of a difference in the grand scheme of things.”

    He simply grunted, watching as you grabbed the handle to your room. You opened the door and made your way to your desk, pulling out a drawer and rummaging around for your sewing kit. Vegeta stood in the walkway, staring at the floor before you pulled the kit out and set it on top of your desk. You tilted your head at him as you sat in your office chair, motioning for him to take a seat on your bed.

    “I’ll stand,” he frowned, stepping in apprehensively and making his way over to you. He had never been in your room before; he never had a reason to be in it. It was very… you. He wasn’t sure how else to describe it. It had your scent and although he’d never admit it, he liked it. It made a shiver run down his spine.

    “No, you’ll sit,” you countered. “I sew better sitting, and I don’t want you looming over me while I do it.” You flicked on your small lamp and smiled at him softly.

     He grumbled under his breath, something about how he doesn’t ‘loom’ over people, before sitting on your bed carefully. He was trying to sit as close to the edge as possible to be somewhat polite. It creaked a bit as he did so, one of your plushies tumbling over and onto the floor. He sneered at it before you picked it up and set it back in its place.

    “Alright, let me see it.”

    He shoved his hand in your direction and you stared at him as if he were an idiot. “Vegeta you’re really starting to piss me off, give me the glove.”

    “You can fix it as it is,” he snapped. “I’m not taking it off.”

    You crossed your arms again and leaned back in your chair. “Are you trying to fuck with me? Is this a prank or something?”

    “Why the hell would I do that!” He yelled, clenching your quilt in his fists. He heard the snapping of threads and quickly relaxed his hand. Whether from the glove or the blanket he wasn’t sure, but neither seemed like good options to damage. “This is serious! Do you think I’d ask you for help for fun?”

    You wheeled your chair closer to him, motioning for him to place his hand in yours. He held it out hesitantly, palm facing the ceiling as you took it carefully in your own. A shiver ran up his spine once as he watched you trace the tear with your finger tips before he quickly looked away.

     “I should be able to stitch it up, but I’m worried I’ll poke you with the needle by accident.” Vegeta didn’t say anything after that, face slightly pale and body tense. You squeezed his hand softly, “I need you to tell me what the deal with the gloves is. I won’t judge, and I won’t tell anyone else.”

     “Like I’d trust you,” he snapped back as he ripped his hand away. “This was a mistake.”

    You shook your head, setting his hand back in his lap as you began to thread the needle. “You don’t have to tell me I guess, but it would make everything easier. Maybe I can go get a spare glove from some-“

    He was quick to cut you off, growing more and more agitated the longer he stared at the open slit in the fabric. “I should've just done this myself. God forbid you be good for someth-”

     “Vegeta, I am trying to help you!” You yelled, finally having had enough. The prince seemed taken aback by your sudden outburst as you slammed the needle on the desk. “The first thing you do in the morning is belittle me, complain, and act like you own the place! Well you don’t! You treat me like shit, my friends like shit, and I still wanted to help you! Don’t get mad at me for trying to do something you asked me to do! If you want to do it yourself, fine, take my fucking kit and leave.” When you saw the look he was giving you, you immediately felt bad. His eyes were wide with shock, mouth slightly agape. It was the first time you had seen him make an expression that was anything like this.

     You went to start apologizing before he ripped the damn thing off and tossed it at you. It thumped against your cheek before landing in your lap. You grabbed it and waved it at his face haphazardly.

     “You didn’t have to throw it at me!”

    “Just hurry and fix it!” He yelled back, crossing his arms and refusing to meet your eyes. His hand was shoved under his armpit as he tapped his foot rapidly against the wooden floor.

      You quickly got to work, the prince growing more and more impatient as you fixed the tear. “Would you hurry up?”

   “I’m trying! I want to make sure it’s done properly so I don’t have to redo it!”

    He leaned forward slightly to watch you work. It was impressive how quick you were with it, precise as the needle wove in and out of the fabric with ease. He watched as you bit your lip and began to tap your foot just as he had. He watched as your hair slipped down from behind your ear before you quickly pushed it back into place. Your eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim lap light, and his heart began to race. For a moment and a moment only, he finally relaxed. Then you were pulling the seam closed, tying the knot and smirking at your work.

   “Here, it’s done now you can-” He snatched it from you in an instant, struggling to put it on. You rolled your eyes, “a thanks would be nice.” He slid it on quickly, finally breathing a sigh of relief as he stared at the now closed seam. He could barely tell there had been a hole at all. He opened and closed his hand slowly to watch the fabric shift and ensure your work was good. Then he fell back on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

    You wheeled over to him again, watching as he shut his eyes tight and laid limp against your mattress. “Thank you,” was all he mustered up.

    “You’re welcome.” You replied, surprised he had even said anything. Your tone was soft when you spoke again, and he hated how it made him feel. “You can lay here as long as you need to.”

    Your phone went off in your pocket and you pulled it out quickly, finding a text from Bulma letting you know that she was home and going to take a quick shower. You stood up to leave before Vegeta sat up quickly, grabbing your wrist.

     “Can you stay?” He asked quietly, the glove soft against your wrist. You nodded, and quickly sat back down in your chair. He made his way once again to the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows against his legs as he clasped his hands together. He looked down at them, hunched over as he thought of what to say.

    “Ever since I was a kid,” he started, voice so low and deep it sent a shiver up your spine. “I have been a killing machine. It’s what I was made for and it’s all I’ve ever known.”

    You got up slowly and he paused before you nodded for him to continue. You shut and locked your door before walking back over to him and sitting in your chair. He nodded in thanks before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

    “I don’t have many memories of my father, and the ones that I do have are… complicated. Nappa raised me, if you could even call it that. Raditz was more of a nuisance than anything. Our goal was to survive, and one day I wanted to become powerful enough to beat Frieza. What a joke” He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back to the floor.

     “At first, taking lives was easy for me. I was doing nothing more than what I was assigned; I started to do more, go beyond what was required of me. The only one to praise me was Nappa, and even then it was never to my face. I was ridiculed and mocked, but it only pushed me farther, to do better. It was never what I wanted, but more so what needed to be done.”

    He didn’t know why the hell he was telling you this; he had never told anyone this. And yet now it was as if he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t shut his mouth long enough to think about what he was doing. “What was once hundreds went to thousands, then millions. I was eradicating races in the blink of an eye. Soon they weren’t just obstacles to me, but people with faces and lives I had ripped away from them. I had so much blood on my hands; I still have blood on my hands. So much blood that I will never, ever be able to get off.”

    He opened and closed his hands once more, the sounds of the fabric shifting in his grip. “I’m not a good man. Hell, I've never claimed to be one. But now Frieza is gone and it feels like everything I’ve done, everything I worked towards for years, was for nothing. The things I see in my sleep, what I feel when I’m awake, what I’ve gone through was for nothing.” He stopped for a moment, voice and tone becoming so quiet and serious you couldn’t believe it was the same person who had spoken to you just minutes ago. “I haven’t been able to look at my hands the same way since I was a child.”

     He finally looked up at you, eyes lidded as he smirked. You realized he was on the verge of tears. “Do you know how sad that is? A beast scared of his own damned hands. I’m a damn disgrace to my people.” He laughed after that, wiping his eyes and setting his hands back down. “Look at me, a prince crying in front of a damn lower life form.”

     You reached out hesitantly, tapping his hand with your fingers apprehensively. When he didn’t pull away you continued, scooting closer to him and pulling his hand up to lay between you both.

   You carefully ran your hand over his, sliding your fingers up and under the glove before pulling away slowly. You looked at him again, waiting for him to react or move away, to tell you to stop. Vegeta shut his eyes tight but didn’t pull away, his face pale as you set his glove carefully in your lap. To your surprise, his skin was soft, with yours perhaps being even rougher than his. Then again, you suppose that made sense if the saiyan never fought without them. 

    You traced your nails gently over his palm, studying the grooves in his skin and how neatly trimmed his nails were. “Well,” you started slowly, his breathing coming to a pause. “I don’t see any blood now.”

    Vegeta opened his eyes slowly, looking at your face carefully as you studied his hand. You were so delicate with him it made his breath hitch in his throat. 

    “Sure, maybe there was a lot there in the past, but not anymore. You can’t change what happened, but you can acknowledge it and move on, try to do better this time around.”

     When Vegeta looked at his own hand, he almost gasped in shock. It was his hand, as normal as any other. He looked back to you as you ran your thumb over top of his, gently moving your hand back and forth from his wrist to his knuckles.

     “You haven’t done good things, Vegeta. But I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you need time and care to heal, and the first step towards that was acknowledging what we talked about today.” You paused, thinking carefully over your next choice of words before smiling softly. “I think there’s good in you. No, I know there is.”

    He watched the way your hair tumbled down and around your face, and how gentle your stare seemed to be. You weren’t repulsed or disgusted, but caring and considerate. He felt a blush rise first to the tips of his ears and then his cheeks before he pulled his hand away and slid his glove back on. He stood up after that, walking briskly across the room without turning back. He unlocked the door and opened it, pausing to think for a moment. Then, he made his way down the hall, wondering what the hell had just come over him as his heart raced out of control.

    A few days later he came home to find a second pair of gloves folded neatly on his bed along with a note, “just in case <3.” His face flushed as he went to crumple it up, but upon reading it just one more time, he found he couldn’t. He shoved it in the drawer of his bedside table, grumbling under his breath as he left to go train.

[waffles-art-writing]

You… Me…? - Simon Ghost Riley X Female Assassin Reader - PART II

Summary: (PART ONE - READ FIRST) It’s been a few months since Simon started staying with you. He’s been there for you through what seems to be possibly the worse few months you’ve had to endure in a long while. There’s soft touches, calling words, tears and laughter shared.

Proofread: HA! Barely….

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x Female!Assassin!Reader with a child. ((I may write a part 3))

WordCount: 6k

Age Rating: 16+ Preferably

Codename: You pick, not mentioned really.

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: Soft!Ghost, Female!Reader, Reader has a daughter. FLUFFY SO FLUFFY, Angst… I think… Domestic Life. Panic Attacks, Emotions, If I’m missing something. Tell me.

It’s been about 6 months since Ghost’s first night at yours after the mission. Emilia basically said “move in!” Within the first day of being around the poor soul. I mean… he seemed to enjoy the ‘sleepover’ if you could even call it that. It ended up with this large tank of a man, sitting Criss cross applesauce on a couch cushion on the floor.

Watching Disney movie after Disney movie before he had to go home to actually go get a bag to stay overnight. She wasn’t too happy about that, however she was still understanding when Simon needed some time to himself. You were very proud of her when she said “that’s alright! Kinda like me at school, when it’s all loud and stuff!”. Your heart melted when she gave him her soft toy as some company just in case he got lonely while driving.

Even that night when Emilia passed out, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Half eaten. Head flopped to the side onto your leg while her feet were on Simon’s knee. You ended up taking her to bed while Simon cleaned up, meeting you in your room with a bottle of water and more painkillers for your heavily bruised ribs.

That night, all of you slept like a rock. Even Ghost, surprisingly. Even if he woke up way before everyone, and only got a max of four hours of sleep. But if you were being honest, that’s probably the best you’ve ever seen him. Actually a little more than a walking corpse, but it still made your heart ache when you saw him avoid looking in all the mirrors. Yet, you understood. Hell, you avoid them if you don’t have a shirt on. But that’s easily covered, but your face is almost on full display constantly…

—————

A scream rips through the quiet air of the apartment, gut wrenching and heart pulling. You bolt upright, the firm arm that was once wrapped around your waist is gone, the covers kicked off. Door already slammed open, sobbing echoes down the hallway and the deep hum of an attempt to soothe the sobs. You jump out of bed, beelining for your daughter's room, the small dim light of the nightlight lighting your way.

The wailing wind outside howls, the rumbling growl of the thunder in the distance almost shakes the home, the lightning flashing through the window from behind the curtains. The chilled air slipped in through the single layer windows.

Your daughter Emilia sobs, hands gripping the dark shirt of the man who is cradling her against his chest. His chin resting on the crown of her head, her hair a little messy from her tossing and turning through the night. You rush forward, sitting next to the two, your hand coming to rest on her back, her eyes welled with tears, rimmed with red as she peeks over at you. “Mama…” She whines, her small hands reaching out to you, your heart cries for your daughter. You scoop her up, holding her close as she buries her face into your shoulder, her arms wrapped around your neck. Simon sits next to you, keeping a large hand on Emilia’s back. His once plain expression showing worry, his dark eyes tracing your face.

“You’re okay sweetheart, don’t worry.” You soothe her, rocking slightly as you pull her closer. Simon stands from his seat, placing a quick kiss on the crown of your head and Emilia’s mumbling something about getting a warm drink. You nod, smiling up at the large man.

Emilia’s sobs quiet down, your eyes flicking to the side. The small clock on the bedside table lighting up with a dull pink, neon number’s reading 04:45. You sigh through your nose quietly, pressing your cheek into the top of your daughter's head.

Simon comes back, knocking on the door lightly. A small cup of warm milk - something Emilia normally has before bed - his large hand dwarfing the small mug. You stand from your spot, holding Emilia close, her legs wrapping around your waist. “Thank you…” you quietly thank him, nudging Emilia slightly for her to look up. Her teary eyes locked in on the small cat mug she picked out at a fair a few months ago.

Simon hands her the small cup, his spare hand moving to push the young girl’s messy hair out of her face. “You are one brave kid, Emilia.” Simon states, voice quiet. She smiles as she sips on the warm milk, eyes still rimmed with red.

You make your way back to your room, sitting on the bed. Emilia in your lap with her mug securely in her hands. Simon shuts the door quietly, climbing onto the bed next to the two of you. Simon leans against the headboard, stifling a yawn as he looks over to the alarm clock. He’s been actually sleeping ever since staying a few nights at yours, yet when this happens he won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

—————

After some time, light chatter, storytelling and tucking Emilia in between the two of you. She’s out cold, your hand on her back, her face smushed into Simon’s arm that's acting as her pillow. “She’s out…” Simon whispers, his eyes looking over Emilia’s features. You can see his eyes just over Emilia’s head, a small smile on your face as you nod your head. “No surprise.” You hum, hand rubbing up and down your daughters back. Simon's free hand coming up to lay across yours, he can feel your hand shaking ever so slightly.

He glances over to you, brows furrowed. “Y/N?” He whispers, his hand linking with yours properly. Thumb rubbing against the back of your hand. You sigh quietly, closing your eyes. “Just… Her crying or waking up from a nightmare always scares me… it rattles me.” You whisper, voice barely making a sound. Simon sits up, carefully moving his arm from out of underneath Emilia’s head. He scoops the young girl up, placing her where he was once laying down. Pulling you over slightly, placing himself behind you, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. His nose nudging the back of your neck, leaving a small kiss, littering them across the back of your shoulders.

“It will forever scare you, she is your daughter.” He mumbles, his breath fanning across your skin. “She is your flesh and blood, her pain is your pain. Her cries will forever hit you in the heart, make you feel the same pain she is feeling.” He states, you sigh. Leaning into him, turning your head to look at him. “Thank you Simon… for everything.” You whisper, he presses his forehead against yours. Eyes closing with a heavy breath. “Don’t mention it, now sleep. You need it.” He states, leaving a small kiss on your lips. You smile, a light blush spreading across your cheeks. Still not used to getting this sort of affection after so long of being on your own.

——————

Today was not anyone’s day, well in your house it wasn’t. Last night Emilia had another scary dream, three nights in a row now. First time you thought it was just the bad weather outside, Simon even agreed with you. The second night, you thought it was probably just the fact she was a little antsy because of the spelling bee that was the next morning. But last night, there was no plausible explanation as to why she would be scared, nervous or anxious about anything. You even called Simon about it, to see if you were just being over dramatic or not. He said you weren't, and suggested for you to take the day to do something to get your mind off it.

So… Today was the day you were taking her to a playdate with a friend, you would go out and do some shopping for Christmas in a few months, which to your dismay was quickly turning into a few weeks.

Which leads you to where you are now, standing in an aisle of the store, with the one god damn shopping cart with a stiff and squeaky wheel. To add to your agitation, there was a baby crying on the far side of the store, which you swear sounded like it was coming from right next to you.

Starbucks fucked up your order, you played it off like it was nothing but on the inside, you were cursing them out like it was a boxing match with verbal insults. Your car was low on petrol, so you had to dig around for spare cash to be able to just buy the fuel without breaking into your savings… which doesn’t have a lot in it to begin with… and to just add the sweet ol’ cherry of making your day even worse….

You got your period.

So with this whole mixing pot of shit, you are now staring down boxes of fake Christmas trees. With one question in mind. Snow or not to Snow? Yes it’s winter, it’s snowing outside, yes you could get a fake tree, with fake snow. Sounds stupid. But this year is the very first year you’ll be spending Christmas with a new person. Simon. He’s luckily not being deployed these holidays, which you were happy about. Because Emilia practically begged for him to join you guys, he was unsure at the start. Still a little hesitant now, but is still going to come.

All years before this one you had just a small christmas tree, tucked away in the corner. Half the time you went to another family member’s place, but this year they are going on a family trip… which you can’t attend due to limited money…. PERFECT family am I right… fuck them.

But you wanted to make it memorable no matter what, so here you are.

You pick up the box with the tree that has built in lights. “Fuck the snow, fuck the lights. I ain’t untangling them. Fuck this, why am I here. I wanna be sick.” You mumble, trying to put the box in the cart but it’s not fitting in. You push it, tug it, shove it. Eventually hitting it with a frustrated shout.

Your chest tightens, throat closing up as you crouch down. You grip at your hair, tears stinging your eyes as you just feel so…

“Hey, Hey, Hey… Y/N, look at me.” A voice cuts through your rushing thoughts, hands on your shoulders.

Your head snaps up, blurry vision as you try to focus on the person in front of you.

“Look at me Love, you’re okay. Just breathe… look at me.”

“Simon?…”

“Yes, it’s me. Just breathe, I need you to breathe. You’re hyperventilating. Just focus on your breathing for me.” He says, kneeling in front of you. Making sure you’re looking at him, his face mask being a good substitute for the balaclava. A black cap accompanies it.

You suck in a breath, it hurts, not as much as just before. But it still does, your throat still feels tight. Palms sweating, eyes stinging. It feels like your whole body is just wound tight, like a coil. Almost like a snake ready to strike, it was bound to happen. You close your eyes, listening to Simon talk, he’s guiding you through this battle, a battle of emotions.

Simon happened to need to get a few last minute things before he came around to yours tonight, aka buy all the things he knows you’ll probably want. He knew just by the sound of your voice over the phone that something was up, more than just Emilia’s sleeping problem. It was when he just happened to spot a blanket, one that you’ve been eyeing for a while. A big cosy weighted one to go on the couch, while he was looking at it he heard your shout of frustration. He immediately recognised it, he was rounding the corner into the aisle when he saw you crouch down. Tears spilling over onto your cheeks, he knew you were frustrated…

But god, he didn’t realise it had gotten this bad.

“Y/N, look at me darling. Talk to me, what do you see? Tell me.” He instructs, waiting for your answer to the question, may sound silly but it is a good way to get anyone who is having a panic attack, PTSD episode or simply just overwhelmed to calm their breathing and rushing thoughts.

“I see… Y-You.. I see you, and the stupid fucking shopping cart.” You huff out the end of your sentence, Simon letting out a light chuckle. “Squeaky wheel?” You simply nod at his query, letting out a huff of air as you wipe your eyes. Next thing you know, is your body being hoisted up from under your arms, you look up at the large lieutenant. “Now, what else do you need other than… whatever the fuck is in your cart?” He asks, peering into the shopping cart.

Apart from the box of the christmas tree, there’s a roll of wrapping paper, a box of some new Christmas decorations. A lot of colours mashed into one cart, and there lays the list, sitting on top of your side bag. Three things ticked off the unnervingly large list. Simon picks up the list, stepping back over to you, glancing up to look around to see if he can spot any signage to give a clue as to where he could find the items.

“I have no clue how I’m going to handle this, I am not in the mood to be here at all.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself, a cramp biting its way through the painkiller you took before you left the house. Simon’s large hand cups your cheek, making you look up at him. “Hey, I’m here. We will do this together, or we can come back another time.” His voice rumbles, sending a shiver down your spine. You simply nod, lips pulling into a thin line. “Thank you…” Simon shakes his head, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “Quit thanking me, alright?” He states, pulling you into his side.

“Now, should we start with the new clothes for Emilia?” His voice held a happier tone to it, only ever so slightly.

—————

“Simon you really didn’t have to, I could’ve paid for it.”

“No.”

“Simon…. Please at least let me pay you back somehow.”

“No.”

You sit there with a pout, creased brows and hands motion in a ‘huh??’ Expression. He just paid for the whole Christmas shopping, he even went back in after you loaded up the car with a bag in hand. Keeping it away from you so you can’t see into it, which you didn't push to look into but still it caught your curiosity.

“Now I feel guilty… that was a lot of money.” You state, looking down as you pick at the stitching of your jacket. Simon is driving, he walked to the store because he doesn’t own a car. Well he did, but swapped out for a bike so he has an excuse to not leave his flat as often. Which is why you are the one mainly driving everywhere. “Don’t feel guilty, your payment to me is just being happy.” He states, making your cheeks warm at his words.

*He what? Nah surely I heard him wrong, right? What does he mean by that, that can’t be a payment. I may seem happy but I’m just putting on an act… well I was… still am… I think?*

“God you’re cheesy” you mumble with a small laugh, Simon chuckles as he starts the car.

—————

The muffled steps of running breaks your calm, you place your book down and look towards the front door. The jingle of keys and the opening of the door sounds out, Simon holds the door open as Emilia runs inside. Cheeks rosy from the chilled air, and by the sounds of it, running down the walkway outside to get to the apartment.

“MAMA! Look what Papa got me!” Your heart stops, blood chilling as you stare wide eyed at your young daughter. She’s distracted by kicking off her boots by the door and throwing her jacket onto the hook to notice both the adults that are present freeze.

Everything seems to go in slow motion, your eyes moving up to meet Simon. He just managed to close the door when your daughter called him the title of Father. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears, hands shaking as you move to sit up right. Simon just stares back at you, face neutral as usual but still his eyes are flooding with emotion. He places the bag down on the ground, toeing his boots off mindlessly.

You’re snatched from your trance by your daughter jumping onto the couch with a small box in her hands. You shake your head lightly, your mind still in a mess as you try still your shaky hands. “What did Simon get you Pumpkin?” You ask, trying to ignore the fact she just called your…. Boyfriend? No… you haven’t agreed on that… Your situationship… her father. You’ll talk to the man in question later, when Emilia is either asleep or occupied watching the TV.

Simon just stands by the door, heart beating so loudly he thought it might as well have broken through his ribs and be on a speaker for the world to hear. His chest is tight, it's warm but still it hurts. Almost suffocating, he’s touched by the name but still, there’s that nagging. Tugging, almost ripping, feeling clawing at his thoughts.

*No, I can’t… She’s just young, she doesn’t understand what it means. Just ignore it, push it aside like you always do. Like leaving for a mission, drown these stupid fucking feelings and forget about them… like you always do, so easily… like always… so easily…*

His body was moving on its own, placing the items he got in the kitchen and putting them away. Muscle memory, he swallows thickly as the words race around his mind again. ‘Fucking stop it, Simon…’ he curses to himself. He leans on the countertop, glancing up to spot you smiling. Emilia smiling back up at you, joyful as always. You are practically glowing in his eyes, not just you.

No, both of you.

Both you and your daughter are like the sun, shining so brightly and warming in his cold and dark life it makes it almost impossible for him to slink back into the darkness. To drown himself in Jack Daniels while sitting slumped back at his flat, that's cold and dark… practically empty and dusty. He’s barely stepped foot in it when he returns after the few missions he’s been on since that one with you 6 months ago. God, he can’t even stand staying there because of how just… miserable it makes him feel when he isn’t with you and your daughter. You have managed to light up all the dark and dingy cracks in his life in the span of mere months, hell he practically survives off your presence when he’s not at base.

If he was to actually pay attention to what his body says when he leaves for a mission, he will realise it is sad, in pain. He would find it difficult to leave you and Emilia if he didn’t push the emotions aside and just got on with it….

You meet his eyes, smiling at him. That goddamn smile… the same one your daughter has and willingly gives… yet he can tell yours is from years of pain and hardship but finally, your light is shining through and it's not only affecting him in good ways but also you.

—————

It’s been a few weeks since your daughter called Simon “Papa.” That night you were planning on talking to Simon, but you didn’t end up getting the chance. You passed out on the couch with Emilia, the painkillers for your cramps make you drowsy, so in turn. You were out cold when it was bedtime for your daughter. Simon ended up carrying both of you to your respective beds, you were out like a light, just like your daughter. “Like Mother, Like Daughter” he quietly joked when he saw you both asleep.

You tried to talk to him throughout the few weeks but things just kept getting in the way, or you forgot about it, or even he was at base for work.

Then the worst thing you could think of could happen just before Christmas, the flu. Emilia is curled up on the couch, breathing heavily in her sleep. You’re quietly picking up the dirty tissues from around the couch, carefully picking one up that’s clasped in her hand. You knew something was up, she woke up yesterday with a headache, feeling warm. You suspected it was just a cold, so you let her stay home. Today was supposed to be the last day of school, she was so excited for it as she would’ve gotten to have a shared lunch.

You dump the dirty tissues into the bin, grabbing some cleaner and a rag. Wiping down all the surfaces to try keep the flu off most surfaces, if you were honest with yourself. Your efforts are working but not as much as you wished. You’ve been fighting a head cold all morning, chugging water and a few pills to hopefully clear up your sinuses, to no avail.

You tip the bowl of half eaten soup down the drain, rinsing it out before placing it in the dishwasher. You lean on the counter, rubbing your temples. Groaning quietly as you feel like your head is a bag of sand, the ticking of the clock on the wall sounding ungodly to your ears. Loud and irritating. Then an ear piercing knock hit the door, it sounds deafening to you, yet you know it was a gentle knock.

You make your way to the door, opening it and cringing away from the light. “You might wanna go back to Base… Emilia has the Flu and I have… whatever the fuck I have.” You grumble, noticing it’s Simon. “Yeah right, like I’m going to leave you alone after being gone for nearly a week.” He states, pushing the door open more and nudging you to the side. His hand immediately pressed against your forehead.

His hand is cold against your forehead, you start leaning into it as it soothes the throbbing. “You’re burning up, fucking hell. Go sit down.” He instructs, you wave him off, grumbling something he doesn’t catch.

“Y/N… go sit down.” He grunts, leaving the bag of things on the counter. You flip him off, ignoring his gaze and words as you go about folding laundry that’s on the table. “I’m fine, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” You pause, feeling yourself waver, the world starts to spin. The feelings of your stomach knotting fills you, your throat burns. You drop the shirt and sprint to the bathroom, sliding down on your knees, leaning on the toilet bowl.

Simon is right behind you, holding your hair out of your face, hand rubbing your back soothingly. Tears burn your eyes. You hate being sick, because you end up crying. You don’t know why, but you’ve always done it, it’s not like it hurts or anything. You just don’t like it, it’s just a wave of emotion that hits you as well as vomiting up whatever is in your stomachs. Your hands clench the edges of the porcelain surface, gagging as your shoulders shake.

“Breathe, Y/N you need to breathe.”

The timbre of Simon's voice cuts through your rushing head, you didn’t even notice that you’re breathing quickly. Almost hyperventilating. Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be? You’re fucking crying.

“Love, breathe. Focus on me, not anything else, just me.” He says, voice soft but still commanding.

‘You can turn a civilian into a lieutenant but never turn a lieutenant into a civilian.’ Or something, you aren’t sure you just know whatever Price once said is about a soldier never losing their commanding voice even if in a civilian uniform.

You sit back, a damp cloth being placed in your hand. You wipe your mouth, tilting your head up at the ceiling with closed eyes as you flush the toilet, the taste of stomach acid tainting the back of your throat, coating your tongue.

That alone almost sends you into another gagging mess.

“That’s it, breathe. You’re okay…” you simply nod as you listen to Simon. Tears still staining your cheeks, you blink your eyes open.

The sound of running water fills the room, the sound of a plastic lid being flipped open breaks through the rushing water. You glance over, the tub being filled with water, Hot? Warm? Cold? You don’t know, you just know you see Simon rustling around with a bag of sorts along with what looks like a soap bottle.

Epsom Salts. Salts to relax your body and give you an energy boost, allegedly.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, shifting to lean onto the side of the bathtub. Hand dipping into the water, it’s hot but not too hot. It’s nice.

“Running you a bath, gotta get you to relax and give you energy.” Simon's voice rumbles, sending a calm wash through you. You just hum, pressing your forehead into the cold porcelain on the edge.

Hands run across your back, slipping around to your front pulling you gently to look up at Simon.

“Get undressed and get in, I’ll be back okay?” He states, helping you stand to sit on the toilet, flicking the lid down. You give him a thumbs up, yawning as you drag your shirt over your head.

You hear hushed voices from outside the door, a small whine of protest and a breathy chuckle.

“Well your mum needs to rest, she’s not feeling too well. Like you.” Simon’s voice mumbles, soft and low to not break the quiet air too much. He scoops Emilia up in his arms, keeping her snug in the cocoon of a blanket. “Can I see Mama?” She sniffles, her stuffy nose making it harder to breathe. “I’m sure she won’t mind, but you’re off to bed straight after. Deal?” “Deal!” Simon smiles down at her, his arms holding her close.

He quietly walks towards the bathroom, pushing the door open. He notices the lights are off and a few candles are lit, smelling lavender. “Love?” The man asks, peering around the door. “You can come in.” You chuckle lightly, leaning onto your arms on the side of the tub. Simon steps in, crouching down next to you with Emilia, she’s already reaching out to you.

Her hands resting on your cheeks, something she’s always done, especially when one of you is sick. You have no clue where she picked it up from, she would normally press her forehead against yours but you’ve warned her about doing it if one of you is sick. She’s a smart kid.

“Hey sweetie.” You smile, placing a hand over hers. “Are you okay? Papa said you’re sick, like me.” She asks, you can see tears starting to well in her eyes. Heart swelling with emotions, still noticing she called Simon papa again. “Aww. Pumpkin, it’s just a tummy bug. That’s all, I’ll be healthy as a horse in no time. But, we’ll both get better quicker if we both rest.” You state, brushing your fingers through her hair. Trying to tame her wild hair.

“So… Simon is gonna take you to bed, alright? I know it’s a bit early, but it’s to help us both get better okay?” Emilia nods her head, quickly pulling away to cough into her elbow. It sounds painful, both you and Simon grimace a little at her strained lungs.

“Sleep well my darling.” You smile, running a thumb over her cheek. “Night Night Mama.” She smiles, sniffling. Turning back to hide in the blanket, tucking herself deep in Simon’s arms.

———

You sit there in the hot water, focusing on your breathing. The scent of the candles wafting through the air, the warmth of the water relaxing your muscles. You smile gently to yourself, honestly surprised, A little flustered, but mainly grateful for Simon and what he has done. Yet you’re a little nervous that he may get sick himself, and if you know him well enough he will just brush it off and continue to go about life as he normally does.

You’re beyond happy that Emilia has taken a shine to him, as if she wouldn’t. But you’re a little bit surprised? Maybe… that Simon has so easily been able to slip into almost a domesticated world without being overwhelmed by all of it. Sure he has his days, everyone does, especially people like him. You’re happy he’s your boyfriend - wait, no. You haven’t figured that out yet. Friend with benefits? No that sounds harsh and crude, really good friend that you’re happy to share a bed with and let him kiss you occasionally? No, the title is too long. Situationship? Maybe, you’ll ask him about it. Especially since Emilia called him Papa again, something you have yet to tick off your mental list of shit to talk to her about.

Simon shuts Emilia’s door quietly, walking back towards the bathroom. Knocking on the doorframe, hearing you mumble a quiet ‘come in’. He steps into the tiled room, coming to crouch down next to you. Knees almost clicking, causing him to hide a grimace.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice rumbles, quiet to not cause any headache to ensue. You shrug, leaning on your arms again on the edge of the bath, bubbles popping quietly on the surface of the water. “Better… calm. A little tired but still awake enough to talk to you.” You smile, your cheek pressed against your arm.

“Good. I just want you to relax, you’ve had a shitty week. You both have.” He vaguely motions in the direction of Emilia’s room. He notices how your eyebrows are set, furrowed gently, barely noticeable. You’re thinking.

“What’s on yer’ mind?” He asks, adjusting to sit on the floor properly.

“You”

“Me?”

You nod your head, leaning back a little. You notice his eyes aren’t leaving your face. He’s trying to figure out what you mean, you sigh, sinking lower into the water, below the dying bubbles.

“It's about what Emilia said…” your voice trails off, Simon tilts his head, throat going dry. He knows what you are talking about, he’s just anxious? Uneasy, feeling unwell almost.

“Is it because she called me her father?” He asks quietly, watching you look over at him. Nodding, your lips pulled into a thin line.

“Yeah, I want to say I’m sorry. I should be telling her you aren’t her father and that you and I… we aren't officially together, what are we? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Are we a situationship? Friends with benefits? What do-” you ramble, brain going a million miles a minute. Almost making you breathless, chest tight with trying to figure out what you two are.

“What do you want us to be?” Your words die in your throat when you hear him ask the question, you look at him. Tracing his features with your eyes, his scars, ruffled hair from wearing a hat all day. His stubbled jaw, which is clenched, you can see it.

“… I don’t know…”

Simon nods his head, he had a feeling you would be unsure.

He’s even unsure on what he wants you to be to him, he wants you in his life and Emilia. His fingers twitch to move, to hold you close. He sighs, looking down at the tiled floor, shifting in his spot as he looks back up at you. He sees your eyes unfocused, he knows that look. Always the same, no matter what. You’re thinking.

“I want you to be in my life Simon, I want you to be in my daughter's life…” you pause briefly. “You have become such a big part of it in such a short time. You understand the struggles I go through, even though you aren’t a parent. But you understand that this is hard, and you’ve been there for me for the entire time you’ve been here…” you state, looking at him.

“I want you here Simon… I want you to be a part of this family. Only if you want to.”

Simon’s world slows, your words repeating themselves like a record. His chest tightens, muscles constrict and relax. His eyes dart between yours, to your lips then back to your eyes. The same eyes he’s seen tears in, creased at the edges from laughter or blown out in the dark room to see him as much as they could.

“I want to.”

Your lips part, looking at him. “I-… Uh.. I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want-” “I want to be with you Y/N. I want to be able to call being with you, home. come back to this apartment and see both you and Emilia.” He cuts you off, knowing you would try to spill all the regret you may have towards the matter.

His hand tilts your chin up to look at him, his eyes soft. Fingers gentle against your skin as he moves his hand to where your shoulder and neck meet.

“I would do anything to call you mine, to say that I have someone at home waiting. I want to be able to be here for you, help you through all the shit you have on. I don’t care if I have to stay up late, making sure Emilia is sleeping while you try to sleep yourself.” He pauses, smiling gently.

“I want to be here for you to lean on me, to cry to me if you need, scream at me cause you’re frustrated, punch me because you’re angry. I want to be here to laugh at some silly joke Emilia comes home with from school, or help her with school projects… granted I’m not the most artistic person out there…” you chuckle at his words, leaning into his hand.

“I want to call you mine… and I want to be yours if you would give me the honour of allowing me to be.” His voice is firm, but soft and earnest.

You nod your head, biting your lip as a tear falls down your cheek. “Of course…” you sniffle, laughing to yourself for how silly you must look. “God I must look pathetic.” You mumble, Simon just shakes his head, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You don’t look pathetic… You are as stunning as always… despite the bed hair.” He teases lightly, you just laugh. Grasping his wrist, leaning into his hand.

“You’re an asshole…” he just shrugs, leaning in. “But you like it, cause that means you can be an asshole back…” he muses, you just sigh, shaking your head. “Yeah yeah. Whatever you say Lieutenant.” A sly smile spreads across your lips, it quickly dies as Simon closes the gap between you.

His lips are firm, passionate, confident but also gentle and loving. You can feel the emotion behind the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his other hand dipping into the water. Sliding down your back as you lift your arms, wrapping them around his shoulders. He chuckles against your lips, mumbling “Don’t drag me in there, Love.” You smile, pulling back to look at him. “I’m not that cruel.” You smirk, running a hand through his short cut hair, nails scratching his scalp lightly, a shiver running down his back.

You scoop up some bubbles in your free hand, blowing them into his face. His once raised brows drop, the small smirk gone. He flutters his eyes open, staring at you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

TAGLIST: @grandnuttrash @thesnailus (Idk if this worked)

[leonhardt-simp]

The Girl Who Wrote Me Letters VI.

[post-canon/canonverse] | series masterlist

— Annie x Mute! Fem! Reader.

summary: The ungrounded mystery grows restless and tensions grow higher with every passing moment.

Author’s note: After 9 different drafts, I have this one lmao. Thank you for everyone sticking close to the story and those who have been anticipating chapter 6. Here it is! and I hope you enjoy. 🍧💕

“This one.” The Commander said pointing down at the files on his old desk, the decision creating quite a stir between Hange and Levi.

Hange looked at Levi before they approached Erwin’s desk, picking up the document to see what was beneath. They felt their breath catch in their throat, eyes widening before taking a look over to their commander.

“You— You can’t be serious…” Hange was almost speechless. After everything that’s transpired, this man was still marching on his feet.

Levi walked over, questioning the judgement… Until he saw the name on the planner documents…

“Field Medics…?” He took the paper, looking through them to see Erwin’s plans of incorporating medics beside the scouts. These plans seemed vague, but the idea was there in the form of messily drawn pictures and arrows. He wasn’t expecting this and neither was Hange.

“With all due respect, we can’t afford to pull medics out on the field… Do you really think we’ll even get our hands on even ONE?” Hange expressed, motioning with their hands while they spoke. The idea was completely ridiculous! They were practically the clean up crew. Just waiting for the dead to pile up.

Erwin knew their concerns… But, it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. He turned his back to look out the window, holding the spot where his arm used to be…. The painful reminder of time loss because of injury. Time that could’ve been spent focusing on many other things… Those days, hours and seconds.

“No…But, I know one person that they’ll likely let go.” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at Levi, who slowly went through the next page.

It was a list of names. Names of many of the more proud names within the Medical Regiment. So many good choices, but one was circled amongst these names.

ELINOR VIVIANNE. ← SECONDARY PICK.

LUTHER WAGNER. ← THIRD PICK.

Y/N L/N. ← PRIORITY PICK.

DENIS PENCE. ← KEEP AN EYE ON THIS ONE.

JOHNATHAN ADLER. ← FOURTH PICK.

Hange’s expression grew confused, “But, this one–”

“I know. However, I want this one as a mere test run.” Erwin clarified, showing that nothing was concrete yet. This was just the foundation.

Levi couldn’t seem to get behind it. The factors of this made for a dangerous situation, especially with the rumors. “…I don’t think this is a good idea.” He expressed, his eyes looking up from the papers.

Erwin found himself playing with a fountain pen he had on his desk. “We had them for the expedition. This will be no different.” He reassured, giving a head nod. He seemed to be convincing himself as he spoke along.

“We also lost Levi’s entire squad and then some. Do I need to remind you that this medic in particular is also suspected of being in contact with the titan girl that tried to run away and destroyed half of Stohess?” Hange’s voice slightly raised, a hand extended towards the door as if pointing at Stohess itself. The risks were way too high, but that never stopped Erwin.

Erwin stood up a little straighter, “Then it’s the perfect excuse to use to keep that one close… Isn’t it?” He looked between his two most trusted allies. His hand reached to the paper, pointing down to the name. Hange didn’t know what to say… and Levi? He just followed along. The idea of a on field medic fulltime was an idealistic idea… One that made any one more comfortable… That security.

But, he was not prepared of the other regiment names that would soon come in to deny the idea. They took to a vote; Pixis denied the possibility of wasting medics and soon after, Nile had also denied. His denial was more out of lack of interest than genuine concern…

Not even Zachary approved of the new idea, stating that it would be “Unwise to take away from the sub-regiment when it already lacked.”

In defeat, Erwin would place those plans in a drawer his desk. Letting that ideas seem to sink away with many of the others he had. He had to keep moving forward though, no time to waste. That was until death stopped him like a brick wall. So close, yet so far from the truth…

Y/N followed behind Levi, her eyes scanning around to hallways of the commander’s building. The wood creaked beneath their weight, making the building feel so… Hollow. That was expected though, wasn’t it? An important life was lost… One that used to fill this building.

“Y/N L/N…?” Hange questioned, seeing the young girl enter the room.

Y/N saw papers scattered around the old commander’s desk, a lot of red seemed to point to various things and occasionally the big letters. Her nervousness seemed to only grow from that. I mean, it’s not everyday you get pulled from your job.

With a cautious nod, Y/N stood across the desk, keeping her weight shifted off of her still recovering leg. The pain was dull, but she knew she couldn’t overwork it.

Levi reached over for a particular paper, sliding it in front of the nurse. She leaned down, looking over the paper with a watchful eye. The words were confusing, but when she noticed her name in bold letters… She shockingly backed up and looked at Hange and Levi with a look that asked them what they were planning.

“…A test run. And not one you can refuse either.” Hange explained, picking up another paper to slide over to the new field medic.

Y/N took a sneaking glance back, seeing Levi standing by the door. His eyes bore into her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

There was that feeling again. That helplessness… Her eyes shifted back up to Hange who seemed to have the same look on their face. She really didn’t have much of a choice here… So, she just nodded. Hange nodded, looking over at Levi to see if he was satisfied. He just nodded his head, being the first to leave.

The weight was on her shoulders now after seeing this idea that was left behind by the old commander…

She couldn’t help but look down at her leg, shifting a bit to see if weight could be applied, but when she felt the buckle of her knee, she shook her head.

‘…I can do this…’ She thought to herself. It’s not like she had a choice here. It was either this or end up in a some fucked up situation… She had enough on her plate already. E/C eyes skimmed through the basics, finally landing on the name of the idea.

“Operation Support.” Her eyes seemed to read over and over again…

——

There was that helplessness again… That weak feeling that bubbled beneath her gut and overwhelmed her straight to the core. She even felt that pain in her leg again… Like every feeling and memory came flooding through from the back of her head…

Her eyes widened upon hearing that familiar voice call out her name… But, she didn’t see Annie… Just the monster that had ruined her…. That beast that haunted her night in her dreams from time to time. Some nights, it would stare down at her. Other nights it tried to grab her, pick her up in its muscly hand.

“Y/N…” Annie called out, her tone hushed and desperate. Hands stayed up in surrender, taking a cautious step forward but immediately stopped when Y/N’s hand adjusted around the grip of the gun. E/C eyes looked through those apathetic blue eyes, The ones that softened at the idea of this being it.

This was her chance… To settle their score. To make up for everything. This was her chance. This was her chance.

Her hand firmly grasped the gun, pointing it up higher towards Annie’s head. Her heart pounded in her ears accompanied with ringing and buzzing… Her breathing became shallow and uneven… Then she felt it.

Her vision grew blurry, her hand reaching up to touch the wetness that started to form there. She was starting to cry… Her throat had that familiar lump in it, making it hard to keep composure.

‘No… Stop…’ Her heart started to yell, but she tried to push the feelings down. Her hand wiped them away, not wanting to show this…This weakness. She wasn’t that pathetic girl writing in a book anymore. Those days were gone.

Annie felt her heart break at the sight. Her hand reaching out, but that made Y/N point her gun more firmly at the ambassador. This made her hands shoot back up to keep them visible. Annie knew that she had to work for Y/N’s trust again. It wouldn’t come easy. Not after what she did.

Annie closed her eyes tightly and braced for whatever was to come. She deserved it, didn’t she? She was the cause of all the troubles in Y/N’s life… The reason she ran away… Hell, she was waiting for her luck to burn out. And now? It seemed to be it.

This was her chance to get back for all the hurt and suffering. her breathing became uneven and her heart pounded in her ears. The white noise. It felt like she was drowning. Y/N couldn’t deny she was panicking…

But then Dakota’s voice pulled Y/N out, the writhing body on the floor let the tunnel vision clear up a bit. Her eyes looked down to the body on the ground.

“We’re… We’re here to help…” Dakota strained, holding her head in her hands from the throbbing pain that lingered. Kota couldn’t let Y/N kill Annie, not when they needed her for this whole thing… The main problem. “She’s…She’s with me… Marley’s Ambassador…” Kota stressed, seeing double when they tried to push themselves up. Hell, it felt like a brick just slammed into their head. What the hell were they feeding these doctors??

Her grip around the gun shook further, her heart telling her to stop while her brain told her it was for the best. Reluctantly, she forced her hand down and took in the sight of the newly made ambassador.

“Y/N—” Annie spoke with a calming reach out, but then they heard the sound of more people coming into the building and speaking.

BAM!

The noise made both Annie and Kota look over towards the door. Dakota was quick on the draw of her own firearm, eyebrows furrowing down.

Whoever wanted Y/N dead was very adamant on it. Especially, since it didn’t sound like just one persom this time. That alone pissed Y/N off.

The doctor had to fight with herself to keep from giving that ambassador a feel of her pent of frustration and anger… But, now wasn’t the time. All she did was give Annie a glare while she helped the bandit up from the floor, Kota taking it without much of a second thought and standing to her feet with a bit of wobble.

The glare was met with Annie’s softened expression, taking a moment to watch as the woman she once had so close to her, farther than ever before. The limp-walk past her made the weight of her actions heavier than ever. The sound of leather and metals kept Y/N’s right leg stable, helping her move properly with some minimal strain.

“She might develop a little limp… If you can convince her to stay in bed for her full recovery then maybe she might recover better... She’s always so eager to help out.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, as the memory of a bedridden Y/N laid in the infirmary bed. The way her face glistened in sweat and her head threw back in pain…. She couldn’t convince her… Not when she was trapped in that crystal…

She didn’t even notice the other two already rushing the window, Kota pulling up the window and checking below into the alleyway for any signs of a threat. It was empty. Nothing but a few stacked up crates and barrels below.

“Good enough.” The gang leader debated, shaking her head at the thought of Y/N potential falling a few feet down. Hell, they were sure she would land well… She guessed.

Annie’s mind was still dazed out. It felt like they stood on completely opposite sides of a canyon. The bridge being deliberately burned away, Y/N holding the matches that burnt the ropes thinner and thinner.

“Annie! Help her down.” Kota called, holding open the window. That snapped Annie back into the moment, her eyebrows furrowing down. She can pity herself later… Hopefully.

Without any time to waste, Annie rushed over to Y/N’s side. “Pardon my hands…” Annie softly spoke, keeping her hand on Y/N’s waist while she focused on ensuring she didn’t fall or trip. Y/N wasn’t used to the closeness, but she knew she couldn’t be annoyed about it.

“We know you’re here, Doc Let’s not make this harder than it has to be, hm?” One of the intruders spoke, a few laughing along. The sound of wood creaking beneath every step that drew closer and closer to the office.

The rugged man looked back at his men, placing a finger to his lips. He gave three fingers, signaling that on the count of three they would rush the office and take whoever was in it.

Slowly, the fingers counted down, the tensions growing higher before finally they rushed inside. Guns pointed up, sweeping before noticing that the room was empty. Nothing but a few disarrayed item and one of their own on the floor.

“Sir?” One of the goons spoke, rushing to the side of the corpse on the floor. Another goon joined beside the other, placing a hand to the fallen member’s pulse, shaking their head when all they felt was a cold vessel.

The man grimaced, putting his gun back in his belt. “I want this entire building checked. Nothing remains unturned or touched. You hear!?” He commanded, unaware of the shadows outside the windows that were already pushing through the alleyways to blend in.

“Whoever you pissed off, did not let it go.” Dakota muttered as they pushed through a wooden gate, leading them out into some cobbled street that had a few drunks walking up and down it.

Y/N just rolled eyes, taking a moment to ditch her uniform coat in a nearby bucket that seemed to be filled with a questionable liquid. Her face grimaced in disgust, turning back to catch up. She won’t be seeing that particular coat again. Unfortunate…

Annie stayed behind, keeping a look out to ensure no one followed them. “That didn’t seem like a matter of anger… More like a…” She seemed to trail off, turning her attention back to see Y/N looking back at her with a frustrated expression. “…Like a job.” She silently spoke, watching the doctor turn her head back forward.

The tension between the two even made Dakota uncomfortable. That was between them though, this bandit knew better than to try and step into a fight between a couple. Were they a couple…? Was that how it worked? She wasn’t sure.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Dakota rubbed the side of their head. They could still feel that sting, more dull but it was still there. “Doesn’t make sense for them to target a random doctor, though.” They added, taking a stop by some old building pub.

Dakota leaned against the brick, enjoying a moment of rest. Annie needed it too as she felt her wound from a few hours ago to feel achy and fatigue was surely pushing her.

She took a look upwards, only seeing the dark sight of the ground that lingered above… The underground didn’t have a sky… What time was it? Even she wasn’t sure… But, it felt like the days seemed to prolong. If she had to trust her gut, then she was sure that Pieck and Reiner were likely resting.

With that thought in mind, she took a moment to take a seat down on a bench placed against the brick like building, her hand rubbing at her shoulder. She even took a sneaking glance over at her old lover, watching as the young woman took slight offense to the comment. Y/N’s stance seemed to straighten up, her expression one that Annie knew all too well.

That look when she wanted to prove herself. She had it back in Trost… She had it here too.

‘I’m not a random doctor.’ Y/N signed, the look of surprise hitting the bandit and the ambassador. The blonde looked at Y/N with her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise, not expecting the change of communication. Though, that would make the most sense why she didn’t carry an old book around and a pen, wouldn’t it?…

Dakota knew there was something about how Y/N stood, her demeanor… It wasn’t like the other doctors she had been speaking to. Not Vivianne. Not even Adler..

Pushing themselves off the wall, Dakota approached Y/N, stopping just in front of her and looking down at her with an overbearing demeanor. “…Then who are you?” Dakota finally asked. There it was, the golden question. Everyone knew her as Y/N L/N above ground… But, who was this persona? This mask? Dakota was careful in approaching the mute doctors. One couldn’t be too hasty to learn the truth.

The bandit seemed to want the same answers as Annie, but even then the ambassador seemed to want to respect the boundaries her old lover clearly had. She still kept a close eye.

The doctor stood there, clenching her jaw a bit from the sudden interrogation. It even had her thinking to herself, wondering who exactly she was… But, she knew… She was a lot of things… Became a lot from nothing too.

So, seeing a smug bandit try to slightly intimidate her into spilling her life out on a map irked her a bit. It showed on her face too. Her tongue licking the inside of her cheek, she looked away briefly before she looking back up at the tall woman with more than just a little amusement. A woman who knew her position, she was. Perhaps, she picked up a few things from Dr. Vivianne.

‘The same person who slipped you a crate. Same person you want to stay on good terms with.’ She signed, her eyes challenging.

The action made Annie raise her brows, looking over to Dakota. The crate.. Then those names flashed into her mind for a few seconds. Denis and Luther…. They were all connected. The bandit seemed to suddenly have a moment of realization as well, her face contorted with a bit of confusion from that end statement though.

“…Is that a threat?” Fabel flabbergasted at the mere thought of some medic threatening to fuck off in the middle of something so important. They took a threatening step forward, feeling almost offended.

Hands started to make the argument more clear, her body turning to the two. ‘Take it how you wish. Just know you need me since I’m the only one willing to break the rules to help you.’ She reaches into her vest pocket, pulling out a letter. Her eyes stared at it before flicking her wrist to toss the letter over.

Annie watched as the letter descended gracefully down to the ground, her curiosity getting the better of her. “…What?” Annie questioned, standing up from the bench and walking over to pick up the paper from the ground. Her eyes looked up to meet her old lover’s E/C gaze, her hands gently unfolding the letter.

‘With much consideration, Main Medical has decided to postpone the distribution and cooperation with other outside parties. All medics and medical researchers are advised to stay in their offices or main buildings until further notice.

— Signed, Elinor Vivianne. Head of MM.’

Y/N shook her head, her eyes averting away at the mere thought of even getting her position revoked. ‘Everyone is completely at a standstill… Dr. Vivianne is more concerned with how much we’ve been losing because of these crates being either stolen or damaged. Every doctor, besides a few, are completely in agreement with Dr. Vivianne. They want out. This attack on my building will only solidify their stance on the matter.’ Her gestures seemed to be punctuated, her mouth moving along to mouth certain words and phrases. The doctor even started to pace a bit, needing to get some pent up feels at bay. She wasn’t happy about the decision either.

Dakota couldn’t believe that bullshit. Face contorted into frustration, feeling a bit betrayed. Hazel eyes took a look over the letter again, shaking her head in slight denial.

What ever happened to being the ones to show up for people? The heros that kept morale up? What the hell were doctors if they weren’t doing their job?

“Vivianne… That son of a bitch.” Dakota cursed under their breath, hands clenched at her side while she looked away.

Annie wasn’t sure what to make of this… “…She’s right about one thing,” Annie spoke, folding the notice back up before holding it out back at Y/N. “Those men don’t seem to be very fazed with the idea of taking lives. That crate you sent us was attacked… I… Uh.. We barely made it out. It was as if they already knew.” She watched as Y/N hesitated to reach out and take the letter back from her.

Fabel nodded, pacing a bit with a hand to their mouth as they tried to make sense of all this. “Annie here got shot… Those men aren’t afraid of any kind of consequence. Seems like everywhere we go, they’re always one step ahead.” The gang leader found themselves running a frustrated hand through their hair, stopping to look back over at the Medic.

Y/N felt her throat close up at the idea of Annie getting shot, her eyes shifting back up to meet with Annie’s gaze. Annie wasn’t sure what she saw in those familiar E/C colored eyes. It was softer than anything she’s seen all day though...

“I’ll be fine… Just a scratch…” She tried to play it off, getting a more concerned and less angry look from the other girl.

Y/N didn’t find it funny. If anything, that would make everything so much more complicated. Hell, she didn’t even know where to start… She carefully took her letter back from Annie’s fingers, pushing the paper into her vest pocket once more with a heavy exhale.

‘If they’re not afraid of consequences, then that means they’re either safe in what those consequences are… or, these people are more ruthless than I thought…’ Y/N explains with punctuated gestures. Hazel and blue eyes watched carefully as the doctor seemed a bit… Hesitant.

Dakota crossed their arms over their chest, “You have any idea what gang this is?” The gang leader asked.

Y/N shook her head, ‘Only lead I have so far is that they’re uniformed in black and red.’ Her head turned back in the direction of her medical building. She felt a little run from her own home… That was the building she used whenever she wanted to have control. She knew it would probably be burned to the ground when she came back.

“I don’t think standing around is be the best idea. More of them could be patrolling around.” Annie spoke up, standing up from the bench with a bit of a tired exhale. She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders back as if it would relieve her.

Dakota nodded, “You’re right. Hopefully, this all starts to make sense when we’re actually in the safety of a room and not the street.” The bandit sighed, reaching for her gun and handing it over to Annie. “Try not to get this one shot out of your hand, yeah?” The gang leader teased, watching Annie flush a bit with embarrassment as she accepted it.

‘Let’s take a carriage or a wagon… I need a place to lay low… I can’t just go back to the MM if my trail is still hot.” The mute doctor gestured, fixing her leg brace a bit. The damn thing always needed to be adjusted, working and walking so much always didn’t help.

Annie waited while Dakota whistled up for a wagon, watching some old man ride up to side of the street.

“Do you need help?” Annie finally asked, getting waved off by the mute doctor. There was no direct rejection, just a wave of the hand while she approached the wagon.

“Take us Northwest. I’ll stop you when we get there.” Dakota asked as she jumped into the back, holding her hand out for Y/N to grab. Y/N took it without much of a complaint, allowing herself to be helped into their ride.

The coachman nodded, “Will do.”

Dakota got seated besides some sacks of imported goods, knee bent with an arm on it. “We’ll stop by my Uncle’s… I’m sure he’ll be glad to take up some company…” She explained, running a hand through her hair.

Y/N nodded, finding a comfortable spot near a barrel of what she believed was probably wine. At least she hoped so, a drink right about now sounded nice.

“Northwest is near the entrance to the city, isn’t it?” Annie asked, holding onto the strap of her satchel before finally getting settled up into the back of the wagon with the others. So much has changed since then… But, she couldn’t complain. She didn’t really have the right to.

‘And Main Medical. It’s some ways from it… Smack in the middle of this city… We actually cleared out one of the old brothel buildings for it… A big one. When we’re rested and ready, we can head there… Get us all on the same page with Dr. Vivianne and Dr. Adler.’ Y/N signed, her head leaned against the barrel beside her.

Dakota motioned with their hand, agreeing along with what the doctor said. “A meeting was long overdue…. She’s always avoided speaking with me directly. Dr. Adler and I are practically best buddies with how often I’ve seen him.” There was a spoken sarcasm that made Y/N shake her head, understanding what Dakota meant perfectly. Vivianne was practically a book of tasks. Always sending others to do the things she didn’t want to… Perfect example was this… Though it was deliberate, Y/N didn’t mind getting her hands dirty if it meant doing the right thing. Vivianne’s word wouldn’t stop her.

Annie hummed, taking a sneaking glance over to Y/N, who seemed to want to rest a bit on the ride to Dakota’s Uncle’s house. She didn’t want to stare, but it was strange…Seeing her again after such a long time… She looked good. Annie still liked how she styled her hair… How her E/C closed to just… Rest and breathe for a moment. Of course, she was pulled out of her moment when she saw Dakota smirking at her. That knowing glance the bandit made her way ruined it.

It made her embarrassed, making her turn her head away with her cheeks growing red flush..

With a snap of the reigns, they were on their way. Thankfully the cover of the wagon would provide them some relief from anyone who could see them pass by.

——

Adler bursted through the door, panting and pointing behind him. He was so out of breath from running everywhere, still empty handed though.

Dr. Vivianne placed her clipboard down and just waited for the theatric display to end, leaning a hand against her desk while the other rested on her hip.

“Eastern Building…. It… Phew…” He started his sentence, leant forward with his hands on his knees. He couldn’t even hold enough air in to make a cohesive sentence.

Of course, this just annoyed Vivianne. “Spit it out.” She urged, tone stern and punctual with it.

“Eastern building got raided.” Adler finally spit it out, holding a hand to his chest. The news made Vivianne’s eyes widen a bit, her expression growing a little confused.

“Raided? What do you mean "raided?” The ash haired doctor questioned, her head tilted forward as if demanding some kind of explanation.

The blonde doctor just shook his head, standing up a bit straighter. “I was doing what you said… Trying to find Y/N… So, I went to her building…But then, I noticed a whole bunch of men rush the building… I booked it out of there….” Adler explained, pacing a bit while he spoke. His conscience felt guilty. He ran off like a coward and probably let these… Rats kill one of their own.

Vivianne seemed lost for words. Her eyes looked away as she processed the news, feeling a sinking feeling in her gut at the thought of one of the original three being gone to something so…. so preventable. Her brain wanted to think logically about this, but her heart didn’t seem to agree.

“…Do you know for sure that Dr. Quil was in that building?” Vivianne questioned in a monotone voice, her head tilting slightly.

Adler couldn’t say for sure. “…I… I would like to hope not… But, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re starting to hurt the supply at the source.” He said his thoughts, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stood. His eyes grew worrisome. The idea of anyone becoming a target… He avoided the war for that reason… He didn’t want to be a target.

Vivianne felt bitter, her eyes closing for a moment. “…Start telling the staff to start closing everything up.” She says, standing up straighter. “Tell them that it’s urgent as well. I don’t want a single doctor left behind.” Her hand pulled a document from her desk, pushing it into one of the drawers with a slight of hand.

Adler looked at Vivianne with a confused expression, his eyebrows knitting together. “…What about the crates?… Surely, we can’t just… Leave them?” He asked, curious if they were going to just leave them there.

Vivianne nodded, “Don’t worry about that. Until we get definite confirmation that Dr. Quil is dead. We will proceed with clean-up here. Priority documents come first. Crates can collect dust for all I care. They’re not worth the sacrifice of the other good doctors here.” Her way of explaining the situation made Adler feel a little more at ease. He nodded his head in agreement. The earlier they got out, the better.

“Now leave me be… I need… Uh…” Vivianne looked around a bit lost, her eyes looking down at her desk. “I need to be alone for a little while…” She took a seat in her chair, her elbows resting on the surface of her cluttered desk and her hands clasping together as if in prayer. Her heart felt heavy. It felt like everything was going downhill from here.

Dr. Adler nodded his head, immediately leaving to go start the prep up for evac. There was a lot of equipment to be packed away. Transportation was also going to be a little tight, but as long as people were able to leave then it didn’t matter.

Vivianne stared at the door of her office, her eyes closing tightly as flashbacks to when she first met Y/N had suddenly triggered.

——

“Luther, Denis, Vivianne, and Adler. You’re being requested over to The Scouts Main Quarters. Please go ASAP.” The head medic spoke, flipping through a wooden clipboard as he stood at the doorway.

Vivianne pulled her mask down and looked over, her expression growing confused. “Wh-What do they need us for…?” She questioned, taking off her blood soaked gloves.

The man looked up at Vivianne, shaking his head in disapproval. “Does it matter? If I say to go, you go.” He spoke firmly, making the girl slightly purse her lips together as if to hold back on being disrespectful.

She only nodded, looking back down at the soldier that was missing an arm from an expedition… Survived, but now retired… It was unfortunate. “Rest easy…” She softly spoke, patting his shoulder before she turned and left the room.

In the hallway, Luther and Denis seemed to be messing around a bit, pushing and shoving each other. Adler stood with his hand adjusting his glasses, keeping a cocky explanation on his face as they waited for Vivianne.

“You coming, slowpoke? We’re waiting on you.” Denis said, wrapping an arm around Luther’s shoulder.

Adler scoffed, “At least try to act professional, Denis…” The blonde man spoke, his expression showing his disdain for how casual the two were being.

Luther rolled his eyes, “You act like we’re seeing the Queen. Get your breeches untangled and let loose, will ya? I swear, all I ever hear you do is complain.” The taller man spoke, Denis laughing a bit from his friend’s observation.

Adler just gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He adjusted his glasses once more, “You ready?” Adler asked Vivianne, wanting this done and over with as soon as possible.

Vivianne gave a quick nod, catching up with the three.

She remembered the debriefings they were subjected to with Commander Hange. The eccentric way the commander handled themselves made Luther and Denis more excited for this sudden call.

But, Vivianne was very… suspicious. Becoming a field medic sounded crazy… All this confidentiality also rubbed her wrong. What the hell were they hiding?

“Given the circumstances, I will give you the opportunity to back out… However, you 4 were hand picked because of your overall evaluations back when you were in training as well as your medical expertise. This is for progress… A trial we conducted a few time before. It will be the first on field medical team.” Hange explained with a more serious tone, pushing a paper towards the four medics.

Luther was the first to raise his hand, “Is it just us…? Or will there be more?” He asked, making Vivianne give him a side-eye.

Hange paced a bit, nodding their head. “I will only say that you have a captain.” They stopped, motioning towards the door. “Unlike you all, she didn’t necessarily have a choice in the matter whether she joined or not.”

Adler shook his head, standing up. “I rather value my life. I would find it a waste to leave it in the hands of some… Scout. Thank you for the offer though. Hopefully, you can find some other fool to take my place.” His reluctance made Vivianne want to leave as well, finding the idea of fighting alongside The Scouts to be so foolish. A death sentence handed down on a gruesome platter, that’s basically what it was.

As Adler left, Vivianne debated with herself. She too could live a comfortable life.. A life with no worries besides the worries that came in through doors in the arms of fellow comrades…

“Damn… I really thought I sold the idea. Anyone else?” Hange sighed, pushing up their goggles to rub their eyes. Handa landed on their hips, looking amongst the younger men and at Vivianne.

The room stayed quiet, Luther soon reaching to the table to grab the paper of the plans. Vivianne watched him debate it, soon just nodding. “Fuck it… I’m in.” He stood up, tossing the paper back onto the table. Vivianne just watched as Denis followed through too.

“Me too. I’ll join too!” Denis said with a confident fist to his chest. His lips held a self-assured smile too, pushing Luther with his arm, who then pushed him back.

‘What the…’ She thought they were crazy. Why the hell would they want to go beyond the walls? The safety was all here. They had the easy part of just sitting and waiting, cleaning and tending…. But, she hadn’t denied the offer yet… So, was she crazy too? Was it some weird curiosity?

Her eyes then met up with the commander’s, “What about you?” Hange asked, holding out a hand to her. Vivianne wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she grabbed that hand, sealing the deal of her participation.

She remembered how the team was escorted throughout the barrack building. Faces that were familiar passed by, making Vivianne stare more with interest. She didn’t expect them to be so close to such big names… Hell, she even thinks she saw Mikasa there.

“Holy hell, that’s literally Levi.” Denis grabbed Luther’s arm, shaking him slightly. As they approached the closed door that Levi seemed to guard, his back leaned against the wall.

“Is this them?” Levi asked, Hange nodding their head. “One didn’t take the offer, but we’ll still have 4.” Hange answered, adjusting their uniform coat. “Baby steps as they say.” Adding to the conversation, they looked back at the squad behind.

Vivianne saw how Hange placed a stack of papers in Levi’s hand. “Perfect.” He said, looking through them briefly before he finally opened the door.

Vivianne looked around, taking in the sight of the lab that seemed to have been built there. A lot of beakers… A lot of scrap metal too… It felt like they just walked into a madman’s science experiment.

But, it was a lot crazier than that.

The figure at the desk lifted their head up and turned to look over their shoulder, soon meeting eyes with her. And suddenly, she felt breathless.

Hange ensured the door was closed behind them, taking the initiative to walk over to the desk.

“Your captain for this operation is Y/N L/N.” Levi spoke, his hands at his sides. He kept it short and blunt, there wasn’t a need for everyone to be getting comfortable. Not yet, anyways.

Vivianne watched how the quiet persona in the room pushed back a pair of goggles from her face before turning to look at the group before her. Judgemental eyes stared, nodding as if she was satisfied.

“You’re the—” Vivianne spoke up, recognizing that face from the bulletin board. The mute doctor placed a finger to her lips and just hushed.

Y/N stood up, the sound of a heavy boot came with every step. Vivianne wasn’t sure what she felt… Was it envy? There was something in how Y/N carried herself despite being the one with the greatest disadvantage in the room.

She wanted to capture it. She wanted it to herself.

——

Annie stayed seated on a small bed that Uncle Miles provided, a hand covering her chest while Y/N took a look at the wound on her shoulder. She felt a few stings whenever the mute doctor touched the surely scarred skin.

‘Whoever did this was surely an amateur.’ Y/N gestured, looking over at the bandit that was enjoying a little meal that her uncle had provided. It felt good to be back at home eating all this good food.

“…Sorry, not everyone has experience.” Dakota said, licking their thumb from the sauce that the stew had. Nothing like a good meal to end the day. They stood by the window, looking out at the street. It was always entertaining to see people interact while they ate.

Y/N was thankful she had the proper supplies to start cleaning the wound. So, she started with that first. Having to remove stitches was a bit of a pain, but she knew it was better than letting Annie walk around with busted up looking stitches.

Annie had trouble keeping her eyes averted, always finding herself unconsciously getting distracted by how Y/N would occasionally bite her lip or how her face concentrated on cleaning the inflamed area with a washcloth. The touch enough to make Annie slightly wince and squint her eyes away.

“I just wished it didn’t hurt so bad.” Annie softly muttered, staying still while Y/N worked.

From a professional standpoint, Y/N was a bit concerned about a potential problem. The wound was definitely not correctly treated, and the old sutures were practically loose and tied too big. But, personally, she couldn’t say that Annie didn’t deserve it. A little mean, but she was allowed to be angry.

“So when are we addressing the problem with Vivianne?” Dakota asked, tossing her plate down on her desk with the others once she was finished with her meal. Her hands wiped themselves on her pants, walking over to stand over the doctor and ambassador.

Y/N finished up the cleaning, putting her washcloth down in a bucket beside them. Her attention moved over to Dakota, not sure what they were expecting.

‘Whenever I can get back. I should be able to talk to her about this… She cannot know about the attack on my building though. If she does, I’ll be stuck in the offices and I won’t be able to help you.’ Y/N explained, standing up from the bed and using a small cloth to wipe her hands. ‘She won’t be easy to persuade, but she’s never been easy.’ Y/N signed once more, sighing at the fact she needed to go head to head with her of all people. Adler, she didn’t care much for. She could debate with him whenever and wherever… Vivianne was more hardheaded. A woman bound by a weird sense of leadership. She held every nurse with an iron grip. Not her though. She could never hold her down.

Dakota hummed, “Tell me about it.” her eyes looking back over at Annie who seemed to be checking out her new sutures. However, her eyes were focused a bit more on Y/N.

Annie was stuck in a little world of her own at the moment, trying to process everything that’s happened. Everything that will happen. “Who is Dr. Vivianne?” Annie questioned, her head tilting a bit. She hadn’t heard of the name. Nor did she read about it… This was someone completely new.

Y/N could’ve answered that question in a multitude of ways, but she didn’t. She just stood there and shook her head, ‘Head of the Medical Division. She took after Henry Belis when he died after the war.’ She gestured, not very fond of the history. Especially, not when her and Vivianne had so much of it.

“…So she’s your mentor?” Annie stood up from the bed, adjusting her clothes to cover up with just the fix of some buttons on her shirt.

Y/N shook her head once more, almost finding that idea a bit funny. ‘No. If anything she’s just a person in the big chair.’ Her hand gestures showed a little more of the sadder truth of this story.

A constant shift in power always made its way between Adler, Vivianne and Y/N. Either it was a battle of different approaches to certain things, or just Vivianne putting her foot down…. Y/N always had no choice but to listen.

Dakota took a step forward, a hand gesturing towards Annie. “What she means is, she’s a hothead with too much power. Haven’t thought of one instance where she’s not sending Adler to me. A control freak. Always up my ass about quite literally everything that happens as if I don’t have it all under a watchful eye.” The bandit scoffed.

Y/N knew that Dakota and Vivianne were also on opposite sides of the fence. It wasn’t anything new though.

“…She doesn’t sound… nice.” Annie commented in a weird blunt way that made Y/N give a small exhale of amusement. The blonde’s interest suddenly hyperfixed on that little action, her mind blanking a bit.

Y/N then shook her head, ‘She’s the product of someone who lets expectations cloud judgment… Someone who let their promotion go straight to her head.’ She signed with her eyes averted, crossed her arms after while making her way over to the window. Her mind always drifted back to the past… How, she constantly felt the weight on her shoulders as she did back then. Why was it always her making tough decisions? She never had a moment to just… Be.

“Y/N, I want you to lead the Medical Research Council.”

That offer was the downfall of the bonds they used to hold. When it became more about competition than about actually helping. Who was better and who could fill the shoes that were left. Y/N remember denying the position… Wanting to live a quieter life. The occasional job here and there… But, now here she was. Fighting against her own moral compass and risking her job because she’s never been one to leave others behind. Not now, not ever. She was thankful that Luther and Denis shared that principle.

She was tired.

Dakota could see that look in Y/N’s face. How her eyebrows furrowed down, a look of lost confidence. “…You two have history then?” She finally asked, making Y/N’s head turn away.

Annie stayed quiet, just wanting to know anything that Y/N would give her… Anything that book never told. Those continued chapters. She just… She needed to know.

And Y/N told them.

‘We worked together for a while. I was under the watchful eye of Commander Hange, placed to be a field medic and soon captain for a squad … She was… my partner. Someone I could trust at the time… A voice almost.’ Her gestures were careful, her face showing a mixture of emotions. But, she didn’t miss those moments. ‘At least, that’s what I thought at the time… But, when you’re running for someone else, you forget to walk. She forgot to walk and instead took the opportunity to fly… Hasn’t come down since.’ Her way of telling the story made Annie feel like she got a good punch to the gut. Like she was too late.

Dakota was surprised, head almost jolting back a bit from the information shared. That made a whole lot more sense now…. Why couldn't they find anything based on the missing parts of this “case.”

“You were been quietly stationed…? Why the hell would they do that?” Dakota was so fucking confused. In what universe, does making someone go missing create a benefit?

Annie was struggling to understand as well, her expression contorting with its own confusion. “That doesn’t make sense…” Annie started her thought, pointing towards Y/N, who in turn turned to look directly at the ambassador.

“I was working with the scouts during the rumbling… They said they never saw you...” Annie could remember it easily. Jean didn’t know. Connie didn’t know. Mikasa was the one who told her that Y/N’s been… Armin even said the same thing….

Y/N took a step forward, ‘What did you expect the friends of a former enemy to do?… I was working and had you come after me, you would’ve been killed.’ She knew her words were coming off a bit hostile, maybe even a bit bitter… But, she was… She was allowed to be. That was the truth. She had bigger responsibilities than

Dakota stayed quiet though, taking a place against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. She wanted to see how this entire thing unfolded, but kept a watchful eye on if it got… Too heated between the two.

Annie shook her head, “You weren’t my…” She then stopped herself, because at the time… They were enemies. They fought on different sides of the walls. Y/N stood a little taller, her eyes looking into Annie. The same way they used to when she couldn’t promise anything. It made Annie speechless.

There was a pregnant pause before Y/N tilted her head, hands signing her thoughts. ‘I liked to keep my whereabouts private… That was until recently… With the war over and a lot of the members no longer here… Now, I am just a doctor and rep for medical research.’ The mute doctor’s footsteps grew closer to Annie, the two eventually standing face to face. As much as it pained her to mention the death of her mentor and practically her guardian Hange, it was true. After the war on Marley… Y/N’s squad was disbanded to focus full time on other things.

Annie’s eyes softened up, her eyes unconsciously moving downwards towards the lips of the other woman. “And what was so important?… I could think of many instances where people needed a medic and you just weren’t there.” Annie questioned with a more sharpness in her tone. Her eyes looked back up into Y/N’s eyed again, their gazes strong enough to probably light a flame.

‘Who do you think delivered the queen’s heir?’ Y/N’s response made Dakota have a little outburst, her head shaking in disbelief. She pushed herself off from the wall and approached the doctor with an accusatory tone. “Bullshit! Everyone knows that Dr—” Her voice stopped immediately, eyes showing a shocking realization. That’s when Dakota’s hand soon pointed directly at the mute doctor, the doctor holding a prideful smile.

Annie’s eyes shifted to Dakota, trying to understand what revelation they had just came upon… Then she heard it. A name she’s heard of before.

“Dr. Quil…” Dakota’s realization rang in her voice, expression showing the new information boggled her mind. The documents were shredded because Y/N didn’t exist in the corp…. Y/N and Dr. Quil didn’t exist at the same time. They couldn’t.

“Dr. Quil helped me out with my bent out leg. I’d recommend seeing her if you need a check-up.”

The memory made Annie’s body feel suddenly cold. Her eyes finding themselves downcast and her hands at her sides in the shape of fists. Hiding in plain sight… Then she remembered what Dakota said to her when she was tied up in that chair.

“Name has been dead for a long time….” Annie spoke under her breath, trying to take in everything… But, It was too… Too much.

‘Marley was lovely, by the way. I find it crazy I made it there before you did.’ Y/N was just fucking with Annie now, the tension starting to grow the more that Y/N revealed. Annie immediately grabbed Y/N by her shirt collar, staring at her old lover with a more cold gaze. Was she mocking her?

The threatening look didn’t make Y/N flinch, she wasn’t the same person she was before… Annie had to accept that… There was no journal writing, no walks through the snow, no late night visits that ended up in a tangle of limbs… They were strangers. A clean slate. They didn’t recognize each other. That’s what years did to something that wasn’t fully established.

“Amby…” Dakota placed a hand on Annie’s chest, keeping her voice steady to calm Annie’s overwhelming emotions. But, It was all just too much to take in. Her fists clenched harder, her eyes wide and she was spiraling a bit.

But, it wasn’t. They were just battle-hardened creatures now… Both had their secrets. ‘Be mad that I lied, Sure. But, you can’t be mad at me for doing the same shit you did to me.’ Y/N was right. She wasn’t any better… They were the same coin, different sides. Annie couldn’t be mad that Y/N took a more respectable route of things.

“Annie.” Dakota’s voice raised, stern and hushed as to not disturb her uncle who was probably in his own sorrows with his mourning.

“You act like I didn’t care.” Annie’s voice wavered in their justifications. “I didn’t fucking leave you because I wanted to!”

‘You left because you knew you couldn’t stand to tell me the truth. You couldn’t even be honest with me when I got hurt because of you.’ Y/N’s words struck into her like daggers. And they were right… Annie was the biggest coward. The one that ran away because it got too complicated and the fact Y/N saw that and looked down on her… She didn’t know what to say.

Dakota’s hand pushed against Annie’s chest again, “That’s enough.” The bandit wasn’t going to let this continue, making Annie finally let go of her old lover’s shirt. Y/N even swatted Annie’s hands away, the sounds of breaths heavy coming from the two lovers. Dakota pushed them away from each other, pointing a finger at the blonde then at the H/C as if they were dogs. Both just back off, staring at each other from past Dakota.

The doctor fixed her collar, dusting herself off while she took that moment to breathe. She knew Annie could easily overpower her, did she care? No. She knew she had the upper hand. They both were in a position that couldn’t be replaced. Both were important people… With powerful names…

“Let me remind you both that we don’t need this. I get it! You’re pissed off at her. She’s hung up on you… But, right now??? We have shit we got to do.” The gang leader motioned between the two, hazel eyes meeting up with the doctor’s. “Doctor?” Dakota spoke to move the attention from Annie to herself, cautiously holding out their hand to the disheveled woman. Y/N just looked down at it with a stubborn glare. A little parley on their personal matters… How fun.

“We get this done, you both can sit… Maybe, have a nice coffee above ground about it. Hell! Kill each other afterwards if you really want to! I don’t give a damn. Now, we know what we need. We need to rest, wake up and have that meeting with Vivianne with no delay.” The way Fabel spoke really showed that they knew how to keep the game fair. That’s how they liked it. Fair, sweet and short. None of this back and forth.

Annie licked the inside of her cheek, still feeling that bubbling annoyance in her gut. She was also smacked with guilt and doubt. She just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s not like she wanted to fight her. and Y/N didn’t want to fight her either… She was exhausted.

“Deal?” Dakota asked, eyebrows raising to show a more neutral face to the doctor. She didn’t want to seem like she picked a side, there was no sides.

With much contemplation, Y/N reached over to shake the bandit’s hand. She can play nice for a bit. E/C eyes met up with blue soon after, ‘I know a nice cafe we can go to when this is all over. I’m guessing you like it with extra sugar?’ The doctor signed to Annie, making the ambassador suddenly look taken aback.

“How did you—?” Annie was caught off guard, head turning to follow as Y/N walked past her to start getting their stuff together for bed. She might not have realized, but Y/N still remembered her sweet tooth. Not that she would admit it.

Dakota shook their head, rolling their eyes as they left the two to get their shit together. The bandit was expecting a cute reunion, maybe some fighting with a little bit of declarations of love… No, just got a headache. A massive one.

“Hey, Uncle. Do you have rope?” Dakota asked, coming down the stairs to see the older man at his workstation. His eye looked over to the younger Fabel, placing down an axe head he was sharpening.

“What do you need rope for?…” He asked, watching as Dakota made her way over. She stopped across the work bench, hands in her pockets with her eyes looking at all the new things her uncle had been busying himself with.

“I got two dogs that need to get along. Figured I would just tie them up until they did…” Her hands picked up a shiny blue steel knife with a beautiful redwood handle. She gave it a few practice swings, testing how the blade hid away before flicking it out again.

Miles softly hummed, “Is that what I heard upstairs…?” He turned back to his work, sanding down a handle for an axe he was making.

Dakota nodded with a dramatic head nod, folding the knife back into itself. That’s when Miles held out his hand, “Makes the place a lot more lively… Can’t say I hated it.” He said with a short laugh, making Fabel feel a little guilty. They knew what he meant, it wasn’t just him that felt that way.

She gave him the knife, watching him pull away from the desk to place it into a little sheath he had made for it. A pretty thing, lovely dark leather always looked good. “I’m sorry for not being around much, M…” She apologized, pulling a chair out from his desk that was cluttered with ideas and projects. She sat across, leaning back in it.

He took a deep breath, looking at her with tired eye. “You're all good, D… I know you’re busy with managing the gang. I gave you that responsibility after all… I know how much it takes away.” He looked back down at the wooden handle in his hand, placing down the sandpaper to test how it felt in his hands.

Dakota sighed, “…I’m working hard to stop it… I mean.. I’m not going to say much, but I’ve been establishing quite the connections.” She saw how he shook his head.

It didn’t matter how many connections a person had. For some reason, this place always took and took. It took his left eye… It took his wife… He was stagnant… Just a guy who made tools for a gang he used to run.

“Hmm… Just don’t get swept up in it, D.” He simply said, his voice quiet. It pained Dakota to see him this way… Watching him adjust that eyepatch on his face, sometimes she could see his hands shake.

“It’ll have to catch up to me to sweep me up, Uncle.” Her voice softened up, watching as he sighed and shook his head. “I’m serious.” He replied, looking up at the young bandit. Despite her being older now, he still saw that little girl that enjoyed watching him make new things.

“I know.” She exhaled, standing up from the chair. “I promise. Once this is all over, we can take a trip above ground… get some fresh air. Maybe, we can see the water too. I know you’ve always wanted to do that.” She promised, holding a soft smile. It was one of those smiles that made Miles feel at ease.

“…Sure… We’ll go see the water.” He agreed with the pretty thought. Maybe he needed to get away from all of this… But, nothing could ever fill his missing piece… Not even water. Dakota gave a wink, motioning towards the kitchen as she started to head for head. “Make sure you eat, Uncle. Don’t need you passed out on your workbench again.” She advised, footsteps echoing as Dakota went up.

The older man’s eye looks over at the urn on the shelf, “What are we going to do with this kid, Kate?…” He asked before he shook his head and got back to work on making his axe.

——

“LUTHER! RUN!” Denis yelled, sprinting down the alleyway behind his best friend. Luther was running just like he was told, looking back behind them as men started to rush them.

“I want them alive!” The man ordered, stopping his chase and pointing at his men to go after them. His lips lifted into a proud smirk, hearing the bullets fire and the feet of men running at his demand… Was this what it was like to have power Instead of being kicked to the ground?

Denis followed close behind, pulling down barrels and crates to obstruct any path. Luther knew something was fucked when they saw those bastards were starting to block off streets. They had to ditch the wagon because of it and It fucked with him, he knew what they were looking for. Their faces were well known from the papers.

BANG!

Luther found himself ducking his head, scrambling into another set of alleyways behind some brothel. Bugs and rats scurried past his feet. His heart racing in his ears made it feel as if his head was underwater. He couldn’t hear anything. Just kept running and running.

“Through here!” Luther said, finding an old building they could run through. He looked at the old doors on it, taking a step back before using as much momentum and adrenaline to kick the damn thing open. Once the door broke open, Luther pushed himself through the splintering wood. The place was dark and dusty, but he could care less…

“Denis, I think we should—” He turned behind him and saw no one. Her heart dropping instantly, all he could hear now was the sound of his own heavy breathing.

“Denis?…Brother?” He helplessly called out.

taglist; @cess02 @the-camilucha @tsukidrama @scouts-stuff

[fyodors--ushanka]

Stoner BSD Headcanons

My brain is unwell, so I am writing headcanons abt BSD characters getting high. SSK and SSKK

Atsushi:

Our innocent bean was invited to Dazai's house to 'hang out'

He walked in to see Yosano passing Ranpo a joint and Dazai with a bong, passing it to Chuuya.

He was confused, and Dazai got him to hit the bong.

Everyone already mentioned watched him expectantly, To which he started coughing.

Chuuya felt bad, so he got him a cup of water.

Tachihara arrived, so they had a "How many hits until you can't feel your limbs" contest.

Atsushi won, bc Tachihara gave up as Atsushi was clearly tweaking and refused to stop.

He passed out on the kitchen floor, and woke up 2 hours later to a high Akutagawa falling on him bc Akutagawa ate 4 edibles. He smoked more and fell asleep being spooned by Akutagawa.

Tachihara:

Heard abt a function, so he showed up.

Was shocked to see Atsushi on his 3rd bong rip.

"I thought he was innocent!" "Haha! Look at his mentor. It was bound to happen."

Smoked 3 blunts between him, Yosano, and Ranpo.

Decided to have the contest with Atsushi

7 hits later, Atsushi was clearly tweaking, but refused to stop. So he gave up and smoked a blunt in the corner.

He was concerned abt Atsushi greening out as it was Atsushi's first time smoking.

He fed Akutagawa edibles, hoping for the ship to sail.

Everyone went outside, leaving Atsushi and Akutagawa inside.

"FUCK YEAH!"

Dazai:

Is the reason the function happened.

He smoked with Chuuya

Before Atsushi arrived, Him, Chuuya, Ranpo, and Yosano made an agreement to get Atsushi to smoke to help their ship sail.

Was sorta proud to successfully introduce Atsushi to weed.

He was 6 joints in when Atsushi arrived.

He smoked a scary amount of pot before running upstairs with Chuuya to fuck.

Fell asleep holding Chuuya.

Woke up 14 hours later and smoked.

Yosano:

Sat next to Ranpo with an ashtray full of smoked joints.

Bit Dazai bc he tried to take her joint.

Her and Dazai plotted for hours of how they were gonna sail the ship.

She brought her own weed so that way no one could take it.

Shit talked for hours

Teased Atsushi

"Awww~ Is Our little innocent Atsushi too high?"

Watched 90 day fiance for 9 hours.

Kicked Ranpo off the couch.

Ranpo:

He smoked like 6 joints, ate 6 brownies, and hit the bong 4 times.

Eyes absolutely refused to open, even if he was curious.

Got couch locked.

He raided Dazais fridge and ordered door dash at 3 am

He didn't talk much

Played monopoly with Chuuya, Dazai, and Yosano.

"Ranpo, Give Dazai your $200, you landed on his property."

"No! He's in jail! I'm not gonna give money to a criminal!"

Chuuya:

CHAOS

Bit at least 2 people over weed.

Threw a book at Dazai, got reprimanded and cried, yelling "I'm sad!"

Was comforted by Atsushi

Smoked 7 joints and ate a shit ton of brownies

kinda felt bad for Atsushi bc he smoked Dazais potent ass weed.

Got his back blown out, prone bone position

Heavily ships SSKK

Gin:

Had an ashtray full of smoked joints.

Watched shameless

Did everything to get Ryunosuke with Atsushi

Cooked food for Everyone.

Played Uno with Ryunosuke

Put THC oil in all the food

"Damn! You won again." "Ryu..Shut the fuck up."

Shit talked with Yosano

Ryunosuke:

Ate too many edibles

Was confused when he saw Atsushi

Wasn't able to smoke

Kissed Atsushi as he slept

spooned Atsushi bc Atsushi was shivering

Didn't let anyone near Atsushi

woke up hours later and Ate more edibles.

This sucked-

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Trick Or Treat {Headcannon}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warning: Fun & Games, Implied Smut

Note: Happy Halloween, guys!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine it's Halloween and you and you are going to a Halloween party thrown with some friends that has been thrown by friends of friends. Sorta like a 6° of separation thing where you didn't know you ran in close circles to famous and semi famous people.

You've decided to go as Lewis Hamilton and have even committed so far as to wear a Mercedes race suit, the helmet you bought off eBay from a mega Lewis fan AND strategically position that very familiar bulge down to accurate girth 😏.

Your costume was supposed to be sort of a joke and your best friends were also going as other celebs either in F1 or sports.

You didn't think anything of it and even got tons of compliments for how accurate your costume was. You committed deep and had even gotten your hair braided like his but opted out of the faux facial hair. You thought that was too creepy.

"Girl, I feel like I should just sling you this ass cause you might just be as close to 44 as I will get," your friend Zoë said beginning a twerk.

Everyone busted out laughing while you did the ultimate fuckboi move. Rubbing your hands together like you saw a meal you bout to tear up you licked your lips in the most exaggerated way and nodded your head. Stevie J would be proud.

Once y'all get to the party it quickly becomes clear that you have existed in this 6° of separation world as plenty of semi famous people passed you by.

You and your friends make a vow to make tonight the best night and proceed to drink as much as you can on someone else's dim and see whose son you can go home with.

A few hours into the party you are pretty can't tipsy but not blackout drunk and have been entered into the best costume competition. When you get on the stage with the others, they go down the line asking what you are and to give your best impersonation of what you are dressed as.

It is a hilarious time as each one goes. You watch on as a girl dressed as Marylin Monroe steps forward kisses her hand and blows the kiss before full on lifting her dress in an effort to imitate the steam blowing up Marylin's dress moment. Applause fills the space.

You then watch a pretty dope looking Scorpion step forward and deliver the classic line, "Get over here" before unexpectedly throwing a ninja dagger across the room into the wall.

Your eyes bugged while everyone stood in silence probably trying to figure out just what had happened. When they did, they cheered loudly.

Next it was a girl dressed as Ariel or Ariel if she were in fact over 23 rather than a teenager. For a tail she had on sparkly fishnet stockings and underneath a purple sparkly thong. Her seashell bra was on point but also completely see through and every part of exposed flesh was decorated with pink or purple foil tinsel. You couldn't hate on it or her.

She stepped forward and let lose the Ariel vocal harmonics from when she gave the sea witch her voice. That you could hate on. Everyone coveted their ears and shook their head.

Then you watched someone dressed like Meg the Stallion from the WAP video and when she dropped down to the floor and tweaked on it you hyped her the hell up as did everyone in the club.

Finally, it was down to you and once you stepped forward there was laughter, but most was deafening cheers. With the helmet on it brought it all together and for a second everyone began whispering if you were really him.

When it came time to impersonate him you took the microphone and decided to play it safe. In prime and proper British accent, you spoke.

"You can knock me down, but I get up twice as strong. Yhu know what I mean. I don't aspire to be like other drivers. I aspire to be unique in my own way. I feel like people are expecting me to fail, yeh, therefore I except myself to win. Just like my tat on my back, still I rise."

No one spoke, moved or made a sound for several seconds. You began to think you had fucked it up but then everyone erupted with cheers.

It was a quick deliberation and after it, you were crowned winner. You couldn't believe you pulled it off especially with the shit you said which you clearly pulled out your ass. When you met your friends again you were 500.00 richer.

From then you partied like the end of the world was tomorrow. After a quick trip to the bathroom as you passed down the narrow corridor you felt someone push you against a wall.

"Trick or treat?"

"Uh, what?"

"Clever costume."

Biting your bottom lip, you looked up but thanks to the helmet you couldn't really make out who it was.

"Uh, thanks." You made a move to walk around them but found yourself rooted to the spot.

"I particularly like the um--package down there."

You snorted, your tipsy ass not reading the room one bit.

"Thanks. I mean we don't know if it is accurate or exaggerated by socks, but a girl can dream. Right?"

"So, you dream about it?"

"Be for real I am sure a lot of women have fantasized about peeling back that race suit and taking what's inside as their trophy on their own podium. If you know what I mean."

"Does that include you?"

You were not an idiot you knew who was in front of you was a man and as his scent permeated the air around you, you felt yourself growing bolder though you wondered which guy would get turned on hearing a woman talk like this about a celebrity crush.

"You know what? Sure. Given the chance I would absolutely have my way with him and vice versa."

The next thing you knew your helmet was pulled off bringing you face to face with the absolute last person you expected. Your brain stuttered as did your mouth leaving you speechless.

The man in front of you--Lewis Hamilton himself looked amused as hell.

"What if I said this is your chance?"

"Excuse me?"

He leaned in then, going to your ear. "I'm gonna head out in about an hour, if you decide to take your chance find the guy who looks like a giant teddy bear and tell him "treat."

You couldn't believe you ears, and you didn't trust your words.

He scoffed then spoke again. "I'll ask again. Trick or treat. You decide."

With that he walked off as quickly as he'd cornered you. Holy shit you thought trying to wrap your head around all that had just happened. You needed to sound off with your friends, but you didn't think this was something you should tell anyone. So, for the next hour you continued to enjoy the party.

Every inch of the club you went you felt eyes on you and no matter how hard you tried you couldn't find him again. What are the odds, you asked yourself. You were not opposed to one-night stands. Matter of fact you were absolutely pro one night stands especially with celebrity crushes. You only lived once, right.

By the time the hour was up you'd made your decision. Bidding your friends goodbye, you slid through the crowd looking for someone who looked like a giant teddy bear. The word was as the tip of your tongue. When you finally found him, you spoke them like a witch's incantation.

"Treat."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It’s the Last Wídfara Wednesday! Time to get all weepy for Guthláf!

The 8th and final part of the story, in which Guthláf meets his destiny at the Pelennor Fields and Wíd has to learn how to live all over again. This feels obvious, of course, but just to be absolutely clear with everyone – Canonical Character Death ahead! The loss of Guthláf is obviously tragic, but I did work really hard to make this story not end on a bleak note. I’m proud of it and I hope it works for you! I’m so, so grateful for those who have followed along, stuck with it and given me very kind feedback. You’re the absolute best!

Prior parts can be found here (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) or all on AO3.

The next days passed for Wídfara both slowly and quickly. There were endless hours of riding – from the muster at Dunharrow to the beacon hill at Min-Rimmon, through the narrow, forested paths of the Stonewain Valley – and there were long, tense nights camped quietly in tight places where little sleep was to be found. And yet, he had only to feel the bruises still wrapped around his own throat to be reminded that they had left Helm’s Deep behind just days ago. To find themselves now deep into Gondor and in a state of readiness for another, even bigger battle after so short a time was a substantial and difficult achievement.

Still, the journey hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. Guthláf’s melancholy at Dunharrow had fully retreated, and he was his usual easy self. He chatted happily as they rode, anticipating the familiarity of an open battlefield and the excitement of representing not just his éored but his king and country on what was undoubtedly going to be the biggest stage he had ever fought on. Wídfara got his own boost when Déorwine promoted him to chief bowman of the éored, filling the role after Arengan had been left in the Westfold to recover from serious injuries at the Hornburg. Wídfara would have given the promotion back in an instant to heal Arengan, but he still felt pride to have been chosen and wondered what his parents would say to know that their son had risen from a scrappy little boy guarding herds in the rural desolation of the Wold to the top archer of the king’s own éored.

He and Guthláf rode together near the front of the company, separated only briefly when Wídfara was sent with a few others as out-riders to scout conditions as they approached Minas Tirith at last. On his return, they crossed out of the Grey Wood side by side, passing through one of the large breaches that had been made in the great wall encircling the fields outside the city. As Wídfara noted to the king himself, an encouraging scent was in the wind that morning, and the light of dawn seemed likely to break around them at any moment as the Rohirrim lined up to make their triumphant arrival to the defense of Gondor.

While they waited for other éoreds to fill in behind them, Wídfara watched Guthláf make his final battle preparations. With his reins tied to Syndrigan’s saddle, he slid his shield onto his left arm and unfurled the king’s banner, a white horse charging across a field of deep green with a glorious sun above. The reverence and care Guthláf showed whenever handling the flag never failed to move Wídfara, and a rush of feeling welled up in his chest, an overwhelming urge to tell him again what he had already heard so many times before. I love you. Wídfara swallowed the words before they escaped his lips, painfully aware of the dozens of others within hearing distance, but Guthláf’s head turned anyway, as though Wídfara’s silent devotion had somehow called his attention. He studied Wídfara’s face for a moment, and the corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

“I know, Wíd.” He brushed a hand quickly over his heart. “You, too.”

Before any more could be said, Théoden crossed in front of them, standing in his stirrups and giving his last exhortations. He seized Guthláf’s horn as he passed and blew a great blast that was quickly echoed by many others. With this sign, Théoden and Snowmane sprang forward and the whole army raced to follow, a mass of gleaming helmets and bristling spears. They picked up more speed and sound with each advancing hoofbeat until it seemed the entire field was flowing in one deafening wave that would sweep away anything in its path. Guthláf took a last look over at Wídfara and his lips moved again, but his words were lost to the clamor. And then he was off, shot out to his place at the front with the charging white horse streaming proudly in his wake.

Wídfara urged Cypren to give chase, taking up the battle song of their éored as they thundered ahead, and for a time, everything went exactly as it should. They descended on ranks of enemy forces that hadn’t expected or prepared for their arrival, and they clove their way through entire companies of Haradrim, who fell easily before them. Wídfara rode his charge, keeping Guthláf and the banner always in sight as he shot his arrows, and the morning sun and a bracing sea-tinged wind in his face left him feeling near invincible as he cut his way through fighters in black and red, who had begun to turn and flee.

But in the midst of their rout, a sudden shadow fell.

Before Wídfara could find its source, his horse reared up in panic, and all around him riders were thrown from the saddle or carried off as mounts bolted in the opposite direction. He managed to keep his seat through several bucking leaps, but the fourth forced him off and an errant hoof struck his helmet as he tried to gather himself. He staggered forward one or two steps before sliding to the ground as everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, the shadow was gone. He clawed off his helmet and rolled onto his side. How much time had elapsed was beyond his guess, and his head felt cloudy and unfocused. But somewhere within those clouds a single thought soon crystallized. Guthláf.

He pulled himself up on an elbow, the field swimming in front of him, but he heaved a deep breath and slowly his vision cleared. Dead bodies, man and horse, lay all around, along with some kind of winged beast he’d never seen before, now missing its head. He stumbled to his feet and began a frantic search among the carnage, rushing from corpse to corpse, choking back the nausea as he discovered friend after friend. The dizziness in his head and the panic in his chest threatened to send him back to unconsciousness, but he kept scrambling forward until his eyes fell at last on the body of a dappled grey horse that he knew in an instant and all the light and sound of the world fell away. He limped the last few steps around Syndrigan and pulled in a ragged breath at the sight of his deepest fear made real.

Guthláf lay on his back in a wide pool of blood, his unseeing eyes staring ahead. The staff of the banner was still in his right hand, and his left was clutched to his chest. Wídfara collapsed to his knees and seized that hand, and as he wrapped his own around it, his mother’s ring fell from Guthláf’s grip. Something inside of Wídfara broke, and a pain beyond any he had ever known or imagined flooded through him, set loose by the breaking and with nothing to stop it from overtaking him completely.

The front line of the fighting had moved on for a time, leaving an eerie temporary calm here in the center of the battlefield, and Wídfara sat alone at Guthláf’s side for long minutes, seemingly the only living soul in a circle of death. He felt weighted to the ground, his limbs like lead and the blood in his veins gone solid. Everything around him became hazy and indistinct, all but Guthláf’s face. Wídfara couldn’t tear his gaze from that face, desperate to see those pale blue eyes blink back to life, the color to return to his cheeks, the mouth to smile and speak the words that would tell him that this was merely a nightmare. A hallucination of a mind suffering from a recent blow and preying on his greatest terrors.

Into this private agony, a company of riders came, Rohirrim following the Third Marshal and his flowing horse-tailed helmet. Wídfara paid them no heed and, in fact, didn’t even register their presence until one approached to pull the banner from Guthláf’s lifeless hand. As the flag passed before his eyes, unspooling from the ground with a deep red stain soaked into the white horse emblem, another searing pain tore through him, like the burn of an open flame pressed directly to his heart. He slumped down onto Guthláf’s chest, whimpering quietly to himself and hoping only for the flame to consume him quickly, to reduce him to ashes that would have no awareness or feeling. But instead, a small hand appeared on his shoulder and shook it insistently.

“Are you hurt?”

The hand pulled him up by the spaulder, and he raised his eyes to find a small man before him. He was dressed in the gear of an esquire of Rohan but was several feet shorter than an average Rohirrim, more like the size of a child. The man stood unsteadily, one arm pressed awkwardly to his side, and looked over his shoulder at new forces of the enemy gathering in the near distance. “If you’re hurt, you should make your way into the city,” he said. “You can’t stay here like this. The battle will overrun you soon enough.”

“I don’t care,” Wídfara whispered, as much to himself as to the small stranger. He tightened his grip on Guthláf’s hand.

“This man, he was your friend? Or kinsman?”

“He’s my…He was my…” Wídfara broke off, unable to speak the truth but unwilling to say that Guthláf was anything less than he had been. A sob rose in his throat, and he looked down.

The small hand came back to his shoulder, the voice pained but firm. “I don’t think he would want you to die here today.”

Somehow, those simple words pierced the tormented haze of Wídfara’s mind and hit their mark. He knew they were true. If Guthláf still had even a single breath in his body, he would use it to push Wídfara forward. To urge him to be brave and fight his way to safety. I’m asking you to try. To give up now would be a failure of everything Guthláf would have wanted for him or for Rohan. Whatever else he felt, Wídfara knew he couldn’t let his last act be such a betrayal.

He nodded to the small esquire, who turned quietly away, and he took his last, long look at the face of the man he loved above all else. He fought back the urge to take Guthláf’s hand, now growing cold in his, and hold it to himself. Against his heart. His cheek. Anywhere that he could press it like a stamp into wax, hoping to leave behind a mark, something to carry away with him and bear for as long as possible. Instead, feeling the weight of other eyes now on him, he rewrapped Guthláf’s fingers around his mother’s ring, placed the hand gently back on his chest, and hauled himself shakily to his feet.

The rider who now carried Guthláf’s banner gestured in the direction of an available horse, its own rider dead or forced from his saddle. Wídfara mounted up and slipped into the company just as the host began to move again. All around him were cries of ‘Death!’ and the ringing of blades being drawn as they charged toward the re-formed lines of the Southrons ahead, and Wídfara urged his horse forward, following the bloodstain on that banner wherever it would lead.

The rest of the battle meant little to him. He fought hard and without fear or sensation of any kind. Something in his mind shut down, the parts of him that felt and thought going numb and leaving only the part that guided his limbs through the motions of duty. The same was true when the battle was over, when he was then marched out to the Morannon under the combined banners of the Men of the West, and when they marched back, victorious over all. The unsettling numbness only ended when they came within sight of Minas Tirith once more and he caught his first glimpse of the burial mounds that had been raised, the new hills of earth and stone where somewhere inside Guthláf would rest forever. And then he wished for the numbness again. He would have gone to his knees and begged for it, for anything that would dull the razor-sharp edges of the hurt that sliced through every part of him.

Wídfara spent the days before the host’s return to Rohan in quiet misery. As they waited for the orders of their new king, his éored camped just outside the gates of Minas Tirith. His fellow riders used the time to soak in the majesty of the city, still wondrous even after so much destruction, and to distract themselves from their own grief with the thrill of new experiences. They walked the streets, freely accepting the heartfelt congratulations and thanks of the Gondorians who had long prayed for the arrival of the Rohirrim, and they drank to their own health and good luck. But Wídfara could enjoy none of it.

The city was dull and colorless to him, as though he viewed everything through a veil that removed all the vibrancy and loveliness from the world, and he took no pleasure in the warm welcome he received when he chanced out of camp. He bridled at the people’s insistence that a glorious victory had been won when he knew himself to be drowning in an all-consuming loss. He was repeatedly told, in breathless and enthusiastic terms, how fortunate he was to have survived, and he could only stare blankly at these smiling, well-intentioned faces and wonder how anyone looking at his wretched existence would conclude that he still lived.

The return to Rohan did nothing to ease his pain. He had never known Edoras without Guthláf, and memories of him dwelt in all corners of the city. Every place he went, everywhere he looked, he somehow expected to see Guthláf there. He could see Guthláf. Laughing in the tack room at the stable. Chatting in line for sweets at the central market. Stretched out and smiling in the blankets of Wídfara’s own bed. So present and so absent all at once. Each time that he looked up with the expectation to find Guthláf in front of him or had the reflexive impulse to share a thought or feeling with him, the sharp and swift correction of reality chipped away another small part of his spirit, which he felt growing ever thinner and more fragile.

He took to spending long hours curled up in his room in the dark, alone except for Guthláf’s dog, Slaga, who would accept no other guardian. He ignored the regular knocks on his door and the calling of his name, even when the voice doing the calling was Elfhelm himself. He longed for his mother, who alone could perhaps have given him the comfort he needed, but she was so separated from him by distance and expense that he had no way even to tell her what had happened. Everyone else he kept at arm’s length, avoiding them or making excuses and slipping away as needed rather than struggling through a conversation that he didn’t know how to have.

He left his room only when called by duty or to occasionally retrieve Slaga, who developed a habit of slipping away from the barracks to take up a watch at the stables, patiently waiting by Syndrigan’s old stall for Guthláf’s return. The sixth or seventh time it happened, Wídfara decided to leave the dog there and allow him to wait it out in the barn. Two days later, he was awakened in the night by scratching at his door, and when the little dog slunk in and curled up sadly in his lap, the extinguishing of the final hope for Guthláf felt like a whole new loss to mourn.

Wídfara’s primary duty in those first few weeks was to attend the funerals that began soon after their return to the city. Though their fallen riders would remain forever in the fields outside Minas Tirith, the new king set aside official days of mourning to honor their dead at home, and funerals without bodies were held in cities and villages across the Mark. The losses in Théoden’s éored had been particularly heavy, so many having fallen victim to the same force of evil that menaced Théoden’s own last moments, and for a time it seemed the stretch of funerals in Edoras would be endless. There was death on a scale that hadn’t been seen since the Long Winter of Helm Hammerhand’s reign and an equal number of lingering injuries and traumas.

Wídfara attended every funeral of his éored, forcing himself to remember each man specifically even as there was only ever one man he wanted in his thoughts. He listened to the moving remembrances and the painful tears of parents, friends, and commanding officers, and he sang as various dirges and hymns were offered to honor the fallen and to call on Ácith to escort them to the halls of their fathers. But most of all, he watched the widows, grieving openly and fully, as they accepted the traditional offering of gratitude in acknowledgment of their suffering. A senior rider spoke each sentence of the pledge, repeated by every remaining member of the company.

“Dredda, we thank you for sharing Déorwine with us…We are humbled by the sacrifice that you’ve made…We pledge to you that it was not made in vain…In his life and in his death, he made Rohan a stronger and prouder kingdom.”

“Serugimm, we thank you for sharing Harding with us…”

“Eadhild, we thank you for sharing Herefara with us…”

“Wenebyrd, we thank you for sharing Fastred with us…”

“Luftmeda, we thank you for sharing Herubrand with us…”

He heard the words so many times that they ran through his sleep at night, haunting even his resting mind. And each time he said them, and each time he followed them by taking his place in the line to offer an individual expression of thanks and support to these bereaved women, he fought to keep the jealousy from his heart. For all the pain the women felt, they at least had the solace of occupying a recognized role. No one questioned a widow’s mourning. No one wondered why tears were always moments away or begrudged her a day where she couldn’t stand to see other people’s happiness. But he had to keep those same feelings in himself obscured beneath a veneer of acceptability, a false show of grief that would match expectations for someone who had lost a friend rather than an irreplaceable part of his own soul.

He felt keenly the alienating loneliness that Guthláf had foreseen back in their tent in Dunharrow those weeks ago. The burden now lay on his memories alone to keep all knowledge of their love from being wiped clean from the world, washed away like footprints after a rain. There was no one else who knew that Guthláf adored Wídfara’s dimples or that it had delighted Wídfara to discover that Guthláf was ticklish behind his knees. No one else who knew the silly things they laughed about just between themselves or the ways they each liked to be touched. No one else who knew that Guthláf was desperately nervous to make a good impression on Wídfara’s mother if they could ever meet, or that Wídfara dreamed of taking Guthláf someday to see the ocean and to wade together in its warm shallows.

Just one other person around him who understood and acknowledged all that he had lost could have helped pull Wídfara from the furthest depths of his grief, to wrest him back toward the light that glinted on the surface above his head. But he had only the cold, nameless currents of the deep clawing at his feet, tugging him further down into the dark unknown.

Guthláf’s funeral was the éored’s last and also its largest. All the city seemed to be in attendance – riders from all the éoreds of Edoras, the regulars from Guthláf’s favorite tavern, the women from the market where he always bought the cakes and treats that were his weakness, the young boys who idolized his riding skill and had followed him around the stable like a mythic figure from history. Had Wídfara been able to think clearly, he would have been moved to see the outpouring of affection for Guthláf, but it was all he could do to remind himself just to continue drawing breath, to find a way to live through yet another phase of this ongoing nightmare.

The ceremony was held by the barrows outside the city gates, and a gentle breeze wafted the smell of apple blossoms across the rows of hay bales and other makeshift chairs. The scent reminded Wídfara of his first night with Guthláf, when they had shared a bottle of apple mead, and he wondered if he would ever again be able to think of those happy memories without feeling as though he was pressing on an open wound. He made his way to a seat near the front, friends of his and Guthláf filling in the spaces around him, and kept his head down, allowing the curtains of his loose hair to obscure any view of the tears sliding over his cheeks and off his chin.

The service began, and Wídfara worked to maintain his calm by silently counting his own breaths as rites and traditions unfolded around him. There were songs and short speeches, and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, acting as representative of Gondor at all the war-related funerals of Edoras, offered a blessing on behalf of the Gondorians and their king. Cups of mead were passed from person to person as the names of Guthláf’s ancestors were recited and their care sought in welcoming him to the halls of his forebears. A bier was placed in his family’s barrow where his body would have lain, the frame empty but for the banner marked with his blood that had been recovered from the rider who bore it through the remainder of the war.

Finally, Elfhelm rose to speak, taking up a place on a small podium at the front of the crowd.

“As most of you likely know, Guthláf lost the family of his birth in the Great Fire of 3006. Just fifteen years old, he found himself suddenly without parents or siblings or even grandparents. And when a tragedy of that nature happens, there are two ways a person can react. They can keep the love they had for those they lost and hold it all inside, until eventually it curdles into anger and bitterness. Or they can take that love and let it out, finding new ways to use it and new people to give it to. And that’s what Guthláf, a man of many talents, was the very best at. He gave all of his love to us. To his friends, his éored, his country. And we loved him back.” Elfhelm’s voice trembled, and he paused for a moment to collect himself before continuing. “His first family was cruelly taken from him, and that might have broken a lesser man. But he worked hard to build a new family for himself. He was like a son to some of us. A brother to many. A treasured friend to all. And much more than that to one.”

Those last words caught in Wídfara’s ear, and he looked up from the handkerchief he had been twisting back and forth in his hands. Elfhelm’s eyes seemed to be on him, though he immediately turned his gaze as he continued.

“Guthláf never married, but that doesn’t mean he was alone. He kept that part of his life private, but it’s almost impossible to hide love when it’s been found at last. You can see it in someone’s eyes and in their smile. In the way their gaze is constantly drawn to the object of their devotion. In their instinct to protect that person and their labors to make them happy. He was in love, I can tell you that. And it feels only right to me that the sacrifice and courage of the one he loved so well be recognized here today, in keeping with our traditions.” His eyes swept across the mourners, stopping again briefly, almost imperceptibly, on Wídfara as they went. “If such recognition would be welcome.”

A wave of dizziness hit Wídfara, and he pressed his boots into the grass in an attempt to steady himself. Elfhelm’s words had been simple enough, but he struggled to make sense of them nonetheless. He could only discern a single meaning, but it was one that couldn’t be right. He stared up at the marshal, seeking some indication of whether he had misunderstood, but Elfhelm now studiously avoided looking in his direction. Wídfara’s mind raced, rearranging Elfhelm’s words and pulling them apart, looking at them from different directions and angles. And yet he kept arriving back at the same conclusions, no matter how unbelievable: Elfhelm knew their secret. He accepted it. And he thought that Wídfara could now acknowledge that secret to everyone else.

Of course he had long dreamed of the chance to do just that, to claim openly what had always been his in private. They both had, though only Guthláf had been brave enough to ever imagine it was possible. Why should they care if we love each other? I don’t think they will. Not the ones that matter, at least. Now, it seemed, there was a chance to see him proved right and to put an end to the secrecy and hiding for good. An end to acting like the most cherished part of Wídfara’s life was something to be ashamed of. The idea was powerfully tempting, and he was certain Elfhelm would never intentionally lead him into harm. But a lifetime of fear and caution couldn’t be simply shrugged off in an instant, and he found that his feet wouldn’t move as much as he might want them to. Instead he sat, caught between terror and hope, paralyzed with indecision.

And then he felt a hand on his arm, just a light squeeze. It came from Arengan, seated on his left. He smiled gently at Wídfara and inclined his head up toward the podium. Another light nudge came from the right, where Freogan sat, and then more hands briefly clapped onto his shoulders from the row behind. Quiet, encouraging words were whispered from seats a little further off. He turned slowly only to find other expectant faces looking his way, somehow already aware of what he and Guthláf had always feared to share and watching him now with both kindness and pity.

A sharp, clear certainty took sudden shape in his heart, spoken in a beloved voice. These are good people, and they can bear an unfamiliar idea. He could do this. He would do this. He rose slowly and crossed the small distance to the podium where Elfhelm stood. A murmur of shocked confusion rippled through parts of the crowd, but Elfhelm silenced it with a stern glance. Then he smiled at Wídfara, put a strong arm around his shoulders and gestured for everyone to stand. Hundreds of people rose, leaving only pockets of quiet resistance still in their seats.

“Wídfara, we thank you for sharing Guthláf with us…”

A wall of voices echoed back Elfhelm’s words – voices of fast friends and of teary-eyed strangers, those who knew and loved Wídfara and those who just wanted to honor what Guthláf had known and loved. Wídfara heard each one as a precious gift, another soul to stand alongside his in honoring the truth of Guthláf’s life and the role that he had played in it. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but for the first time since that awful day, they weren’t solely tears of sorrow. Amidst his grief there was also relief for himself and pride for Guthláf and gratitude for Elfhelm and those who now saw him as he was. The enormous weight that had sat on his chest for weeks eased ever so slightly, not because his grief was lessened but because, at last, the burden of it was shared.

More than anything else, Wídfara felt his overwhelming love for Guthláf. Of all the kind and supportive faces looking back at him now, Guthláf had brought nearly every one into his life. He had made the first introductions, smoothed away the shyness, lent Wídfara his own good favor by making him a part of all that he did. It had always been Guthláf, easing his way at every turn, riding at the leading edge and signaling the direction so that Wídfara could follow.

All of this washed over him as he listened to the rest of the recitation and then as a whole column of people lined up to offer him individual words of comfort and support. He cried and smiled, and sometimes both at once, as he spoke to each person, some of whom were surprised but understanding and others who professed to have long known or, at least, suspected. To talk so freely and openly about Guthláf — the whole Guthláf — brought a warmth and fullness back into Wídfara that he wouldn’t have thought possible only an hour before, and he stood a little taller and a little stronger with each person to embrace him.

At last, at the very end of the line, came Elfhelm once again.

“I would have understood if you had decided to keep silent,” he said, “but I’m glad that you didn’t. You deserved the recognition, son. Both of you did. He was a good man, and he wanted this acknowledgment for you. If anyone gives you any trouble, you just let me know. I won’t stand for it.”

“Thank you, Marshal. I know that’s not nearly enough, but I can’t find any other words right now.”

“I know, son. You don’t have to worry about that.” Elfhelm wrapped his arms around Wídfara and thumped a big fist against his back. “All I need to hear is that you’re alright.”

Wídfara took a long, deep breath and brushed a few tears from his cheeks. “I will be,” he said. And for Guthláf’s sake, he would make it true.

Random/self-indulgent notes:

It’s canon that Éomer & co. were ignoring Merry while they were dealing with Théoden’s death, so why couldn’t he have been talking to Wíd during that brief time???

Ácith is a Rohirric name (“Ever Young”) for Vána, the wife of Oromë/Béma. Flowers bloom in her wake, and so my Rohirrim believe that the consistent appearance of simbelmynë on their graves is evidence that she personally comes to escort their dead to the halls of their fathers.

All the names of the fallen from Guthláf and Wíd’s éored come from the Mounds of Mundburg song at the end of Chapter 6 of ROTK. (Guthláf’s name is also in the song, 1 of the 3 specific references to him in the LOTR text.) Of course, the wives are invented.

Is it cheap grace to present many of the Rohirrim as accepting of Wíd and Guthláf being gay? I don’t think so. There is plenty of textual evidence that the Rohirrim are more progressive than their overall culture reflects, and they readily accept change when it’s presented to them. No one but Háma thought to put Éowyn in charge, but they loved the idea when he suggested it. No one let Éowyn join the army, but Elfhelm (and presumably a lot of his men!) actively chose to let her stay when he found her there. Éomer didn’t realize what life was like for women in Rohan, but when Gandalf explained it, he didn’t argue or get defensive – he listened and reevaluated.

So I think this is canonically defensible. They had a culture where there was no acknowledged place for queerness, and that allowed a lot of fear to develop in the silence. But some of them could see there was something between Guthláf and Wíd (despite best efforts, they were occasionally spotted coming and going from each other’s rooms at odd times; neither showed any real interest in women but were clearly devoted to each other; both were seen going to pieces at some point when the other one was at risk), so some folks were used to that idea before anyone ever dared to speak it out loud. And others, even if they had no clue, could still roll with it when they found out because they already loved Guthláf and/or Wíd as people and they were open minded enough to see that this didn’t really change anything. Throw in a universally respected dude like Elfhelm signaling his own support, and that brings even more people along. Plus, I’m not writing tragedy porn here, so I needed a note of hope to end on!

(Also, in case anyone is curious, do I think Guthláf told Elfhelm he was gay? Yes, I think he saw Elfhelm late at night in Dunharrow, Elfhelm asked him what was wrong, and Guthláf blurted out everything to his beloved mentor. And then I think Elfhelm said, “duh,” because it had already been obvious to him and he had only been waiting for the guys to feel comfortable saying something. So Elfhelm was not at all surprised – or bothered, because Elfhelm’s number one canonical character trait is to support other people doing their thing. I think Elfhelm told Guthláf that he’d happily back him up if/when he and Wíd decided to go public.)

Thanks as always to @quillofspirit for the lovely Rohan-fied dividers!

@emmanuellececchi @hobbitwrangler @konartiste @sotwk @dreambigdreamz

[nonotnolan]

No Not Nolan's Year in Review

Apparently this is a tradition now, so-- here are the stories of 2023, ranked by the number of likes.   It also helps keep me a bit grounded-- it feels rough when recent stories don't pick up stream, but the year as a whole has still gone quite well. It's also nice to see where all of my work falls, note-wise.  And if you're feeling very nostalgic (or horny?) here is a link to 2021, and here is a link to 2022.

I'm leaving the eBook announcement posts out of my year end review, but I'm calling it out for myself so when I revisit this in December 2024, future-me will remember to grab those. I'm not planning to abandon this account anytime soon-- and I'm certainly not shifting to Patreon or PayPal or what have you. I'm not prolific or popular enough for any of that. The vast majority of my work will continue to remain free and open. I just wanted to prove to myself that I'm good enough of a writer to publish something that I can be proud of-- I have, and I am.

Do authors love notes and reblogs? Yes. But they often enjoy hearing direct feedback even more-- I know I sure do. Consider "messaging authors directly" as a New Year's Resolution. (Please note that begging for someone to write you a story is not feedback. Don't be that guy.)

12) Green Grass - 122 notes - December 2023 Two guys learn first hand that not everyone values the same things. Concise and straightforward. 11) Soul Stones: Long Distance - 192 notes - April 2023 A romantic story of two men using the power of body swapping to close the gap on a long distance relationship. Cell phones have nothing on being there in person. 10) Colony Freedom - 197 notes - September 2023 A slime alien attempts to rebuild its colony from the ground up after its overseers have completely vanished. Can it manage to find enough hosts for its family, or will its cover be ruined? 9) Cuerpo Inc: After Hours Perk - 249 notes - July 2023 Ethan tries to pretend to be Jake for the weekend, but he wasn't counting on Jake's nosy neighbor getting But if he can't be Jake, at least he can still have fun in Jake's body. 8) Summer Break Dullahans - 252 notes - June 2023 Eric was not expecting to find Ben's detached head in the dorms. I'm a big fan of detachable limb stories, so I decided to be a part of the change I want to see. (I'm also very rusty at GIMP / photoshop, but it gets the job done.) 7) The Great Gym Shift - 275 notes - August 2023 A version of The Great Shift, but with a limited radius. A gym instructor is stuck babysitting a bunch of grown men who suddenly find themselves in very muscular bodies. 6) Just Another Sunday - 279 notes - October 2023 A Chronovac story with unaware recipients and a retroactive reality shift that ripples through reality. I'm really happy with this one, though I will freely admit that I lucked out on the photos for this one. 5) An Excellent Choice - 291 notes - February 2023 My Valentine's Day story, dedicated to my boyfriend. As such, the emphasis is on a merging transformation sequence. Two men take advantage of new technology to become a new sum of themselves. 4) Group Project - 331 notes - November 2023 Another work set in the Swapper universe, where college students take advantage of body swapping technology for success or pleasure. This piece features Aiden, who has to hire a nerd to take over his body if he wants to pass his classes. 3) Cursing Fate - 337 notes - January 2023 It's an alien possession story with a dark twist. If you're going to align yourself with an extraterrestrial force, make sure you have something valuable to offer them. 2) Soul Stones: The Easy Life - 412 notes - March 2023 Alfie finds himself in the body of Jordan, one of the most popular athletes on the football team-- but he's not the one who plotted for the body swap to happen. It's one of my favorites for the year, and it's a series I could see myself returning to if the inspiration is right. 1) Rookie Mistake - 482 notes - May 2023 A novice magic user tries out an Astral Projection spell without reading all of the instructions. Things do not play out in his favor.

Special Mentions-

Travis Cordin - 382 notes - February 2023 by @mergeman My boyfriend's Valentine's Day story that he dedicated to me. A raw and electric story about a magic user who gives the resident nerd too much magical power.

Stories I Love (Part 1) and Stories I Love (Part 2) I was not expecting so many people to react to these lists, but these have been getting reblogged like crazy. More importantly, a lot of authors have been reaching out to show thanks and start conversations, which I appreciate even more. Like I said-- I'm not always the best at participating in the community, so I really enjoy hearing from people.

Top 5 All Time-

5) Revenge, Reversed - 517 notes - August 2020 4) Overbearing - 538 notes - May 2022 3) Finals Week - 552 notes - May 2021 2) Gym Merchandise - 610 notes - September 2022 1) Soulmate Swap - 659 notes - August 2022

It's always fascinating to see which stories get a second life through reblogs and new discoveries. Soulmate Swap is one of my heavy hitters, but both Gym Merchandise and Overbearing have gained a lot of momentum this year. Finals Week is starting to slip, though I'm still quite fond of it. I'm quite surprised to see Revenge, Reversed on this list given its age, but it's another one of my personal favorites.

[ilikemenandwomen]

I found an incorrect quote generator and had to put all of their names in aksjdka

These are the best ones I got :))

-

Lincoln: This is Thom, they’re… not my assistant, some other word.

Thom: I’m their carer.

Lincoln: Yeah, my carer. They care so I don’t have to.

-

Lon: Advice of the day kids, if you ever meet someone who calls Gatorade flavors the actual name of the flavor instead of just the color then they are a certified nerd.

Mel: Yeah but you have to specify, frost glacier or cool blue? You can’t just say blue because there’s more than one blue.

Lon: Blue and light blue, nice try nerd.

-

Thom : To everyone who has treated me poorly; I am sexier than you.

-

Peter: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives

Thom: I wake up at 4:30 AM

Peter: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

-

Thom: It’s dark in here

Peter: Don’t worry dude I got this

Peter: *Stomps their feet*

Peter: *Skechers light up*

-

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. 
Amelia, with Ron and Lon behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! 
Police: Yes…three. 
Amelia : Oh, my God— What the fuck!? 
Police: Wha- 
Amelia : Mel FUCKING FELL OFF!

(I laughed at this for a solid 5 minutes I don’t know why)

-

Thom: *casually taking four stairs at a time*

Peter, falling behind, taking two stairs at a time: Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fu-

-

Lon: The waiter at Olive Garden has been grating my cheese for 6 hours now, waiting for me to say when. Customers are screaming. Three people have died.

Lon: I will not yield.

-

Peter : .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- (translation: I'M SORRY)

Thom : What's that?

Peter : Remorse code.

Thom : I'm even angrier now.

-

Peter , working at McDonald's: Sorry sir, we don't serve a McFuck here, so either you throw that one slice of pickle out or we're gonna have a McProblem.

-

Mel: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

-

Lincoln : WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Mel: It was me...

Lincoln : ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

(Mel could do no wrong in Lincoln’s eyes <3 what’s that? He forgot to fill out a chain of custody card? Well who distracted him? He didn’t nothing wrong)

-

Thom : I’m not like other girls. I’m way, way worse.

-

Kind of NSFW but I feel like this is so them

Peter : We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Thom : …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

-

Peter : Don't go to the kitchen.

Thom : Why?

Peter : I saw a spider.

Thom : Well, did you kill it?

Peter : It has 8 arms and I only have 2, it's not fair...

-

Thom when he got shot:

Thom , bleeding out on the ground: Blood loss? No, I know exactly where it is.

That’s it for now but I can generate more if you want some :))