#i still feel shaky after that premiere

[oh-okay-kay]

thank you stampy for changing my life for the better, for TEN years

[aesthetixhoe]

paparazzi — J.C.

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of anxiety/self worth issues,

word count: ---

pronouns used: none!

request: can u write where like us and jack are out like at the mall abd fans come up to us asking for photos and all that? (were also a actor/actress. idk is this made sense to u😭)

authors note: I added a bit of other stuff into this, so sorry if this isn't what you wanted. i love this idea deeply! <3

Being an actor and going to the mall was... Stressful. You never knew if you would be recognized, so you always had to wear presentable clothing, plus you didn't know if the people who would recognize would even like you.

The mall was no exception. With the endless stores filled with fellow teenagers and young adults who knew both you and Jack, there was bound to be at least one person who knew you.

Going out with Jack was easier than being alone. He's always there to tell you that no matter who you see, or how they feel about you, you still have fans that love you... Including him. He'll hold your hand, and tell you to squeeze it if you get anxious, give you more small kisses than usual (which is already a lot). The PDA worries you further, thinking that if someone who likes him more sees you two kissing that they'll post about it and try cancelling you or something, but the love is worth it.

You came to the mall to go shopping, you needed some more casual clothes, and Jack needed some higher end items for a premier. Walking into the mall was thankfully uneventful, but once you got further into the populace of the mall, that's when the pictures started.

It wasn't paparazzi standing right inside waiting to run you down but to get pictures, but there were teenage girls who found Jack attractive. While you were also an actor, and have also been in popular things, you weren't a hot boy...

“Oh my god! You're Jack Champion. Holy shit, can we get a picture with you?!” And so it started. He obviously said yes and you moved to the side, not before he kissed your hand though. He wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder, smiling big for her friend with the camera. They switched so the previous camera girl could get in on it. They thanked him before walking past, both still bright red, slightly shaky and whispering about how cute he was. You had to agree.

About every 30 feet was another person asking for a picture, or autograph. He would stop and gladly do whatever pose they asked for, or sign whatever they wanted. He loved all of his fans, and was willing to do anything for them.

After splitting up and going to your designated stores to buy the items you needed, you two found each other.

The walk to leave was mostly uninterrupted, just a few people recognizing you two and taking pictures. “Looks like we have some paparazzi huh?” Jack jokes, smiling at you. God he's so pretty.

“Yeah...” You say in mindless agreement. You were too busy looking at his smile and the way it made his eye squint slightly.

“Stop staring.” He says as he blushes and looks away. He loves your attention, but it doesn't stop him from blushing every time.

Once you two were home you spent time scrolling through Instagram, looking at the posts jack was tagged in, seeing all the pictures fans had taken with him.

Then... There was a picture of you.

It was a “news” Instagram account that posted celebrity sightings.

“Ah, I see you've found the stalker photos...” Jack chuckles as he approaches the back of the couch. He puts his chin on your shoulder watching as you scroll through the pictures.

“Yeah. I'm actually... Kinda flattered?” You almost ask. He hops over the back of the couch to join you in sitting. He looks at you questioningly.

“What do you mean?” He asks quietly. You hated having candids taken, they ‘always looked bad.’

You look at him before looking down embarrassed. “Well... Normally it's just pictures of you. And I hate photos, you know that, but... It feels nice to be recognized. I just feel like an accessory to you sometimes...” You admit softly.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. Once you make eye contact, both of his hands settle on either of your cheeks to keep your head steady.

“[Y/n], you'll never be an accessory. You're your own person. You're an amazing actor, and an even better person.” He states into your eyes, and you can feel something. Something warm deep inside of your stomach. Something in your chest, like you'd just drank a hot drink on a cold day that warmed up your insides.

“I love you.” You breathe out, thoughtlessly. Thoughtlessly.

Your eyes widen in shock as your mouth falls agape. You actually said it... Holy shit. He's silent. Oh fuck. Oh god. This was such a mistake.

“Jack, I am so sorry. I-I wasn't thinking and it just fell out and I know we haven't said it yet, and I don't want you to feel obligated to say it back but I just-”

“I love you too.” He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss your lips. It felt like the stars aligned and the earth stopped spinning and time stopped and everything else people use to describe being in love.

You pull away, looking into his eyes, tears welling in yours. “Are you ok? Should I not have said it?” He asks, brows furrowed in worry.

“No!” You exclaim grinning, then reaching your fingers to the nape of his neck, “I'm just so in love with you.”

[josephquinnswhore]

Hello

I’ve had this idea for a while :}

What if reader and Pedro had a la la land moment when they break up and then reunir two years later at an awards show and realize they still have feelings for each other

Like right person wrong time :>

Finding Our Way Back - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: you and Pedro rekindle your relationship after seeing him at an award show, it’s been two years since you’ve separated and he looks better than ever.

Word Count: 3.7k

Content Warning: allusions to reader that worked in a shit workplace, fluff.

Note: thanks so much for requesting. Thought I’d do the MTV awards since he’s nominated and I’ve already written about Pedro at the Oscars! I hope you love it 🫶🏼

As an interviewer for Vanity Fair, you knew it was highly likely that you’d run into your ex boyfriend, Pedro Pascal at the MTV awards as he was nominated with Bella Ramsay in the category “best duo,” after his latest role as Joel Miller. Although things had ended amicably on both ends, it had been two years ago since you split; your maturity, respect and the love you still had for him played a part in that clean break. You wanted to beg for him to stay with you, to try and make things work; but he was having a big breakthrough in his career and you couldn’t be selfish with him, after decades of his hard work to get to where he is now, so you let go. After years of smaller roles, despite you reassuring him he was incredible in all roles he played, he knew this one would change his life, working on a project with his idol Nick Cage.

Funnily enough, being in this situation was how you met. You standing at an event in a dress that was too tight and itchy on your skin, waiting to interview the nominees for this award show. Although all those years ago you didn’t work for such a well known, respected company as VF.

You worked for a small company called For You Entertainment, they were working their way up the ladder attending small events with D-List celebrities when your producer thankfully got you a breakthrough, an interview with the cast of Narcos at the end of season 2 premiere. You were nervous and fidgeting with your lilac sequin dress that was so tight you were cursing your stylist internally for making you wear clothing that was a size too small for your waist. Your lungs felt heavy as they couldn’t inhale fully, the feeling of being claustrophobic in your own skin was dizzying, along with the sweatiness of your hands and the bright light from your film crew, it was all too much. A staff member from the event, led Pedro to you and you knew you were screwed, the knowing look in those chocolate brown eyes, he knew how anxious you were feeling, he read you instantly. Your co-workers were ready to begin filming when Pedro held his hand up, signalling for the men to stop momentarily, and they did.

“Hey, I’m Pedro. It’s so nice to meet you…”

His hand meets your own as you introduce yourself, he catches the wobble in your voice as your confidence plummets to the ground beneath your heels. He offers a kind smile and you’re enamoured by how kind he’s being, how gentle and attentive he is; he was doing whatever he could to make you comfortable.

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky breath and huff out a small laugh,

“this is my first ever interview with like, a real celebrity and you’re my celebrity crush. Plus this dress is a size too small which they picked on purpose, something about making my boobs perkier.”

The speed at which your mouth rambles leaves your brain unable to comprehend the words that leave them for a few seconds, the moment you register what you say your eyes are wide and Pedro is laughing sweetly.

“It’s a pleasure to be here with you, don’t be nervous, I think you look stunning. You can do this, I’m here to help you make things go smoothly! Shall we?”

How wrong he was, he wasn’t just like any other guy, that’s what drew you in, he sucked you into his orbit, the gravity holding you down to him. Alas, you agree to start the interview. Your nerves somewhat shaken and cheeks a deep shade of red, along with a tingle of heat on your face you’d never experienced prior to Pedro’s flattery.

“Let’s do this.”

You bare a shy grin and give the camera man a thumbs up as they prepare to start the interview.

There was nothing wrong with your relationship with Pedro. It had just seemed like the relationship had run it’s course through the years. You were studying and working full time, 60 hours a week you were in a chokehold of being underpaid and overworked, being younger, new to the industry and vulnerable, you let your boss expose you to the cruelty of the profession when you had several employees that treated you like a doormat. Pedro had always insisted he hated how much you worked for them; how terribly they treated you and crushed your potential within months, that you could achieve more.

Pedro has just gotten a main role in “the unbearable weight of massive talent” when things fell apart, he was incredibly hard working and committed to his work life, the man that was practically married to his career left you in a position of what felt like roommates more than actual lovers. The conversation was hard and you almost didn’t go through with it; you knew you’d regret it but it was necessary, you couldn’t live like this anymore. You missed the intimacy and the connection, feeling like you were in a loveless relationship even though you loved him endlessly.

He had gotten home from a long day of filming, body slumped as he walked through the door, hours and hours on end of filming had him exhausted, he was surprised to see you sitting on the couch with the light and tv on when he walked through the front door.

“Hey, you’re up?”

The confusion in his voice was evident and you inhaled a shaky breath, turning to face him, you nearly backed out of your plan like a coward. Instead you invite him to sit next to you.

“Yeah, we need to talk, will you come sit?”

Pedro’s thick eyebrows are pinched in a frown, looking his age when the wrinkles in his face become evident. The lounge dips as he sits next to you, his large hand on your knee as his brown eyes watch you.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice is cautious and you just exhale, not questioning your own judgment.

“I think it would be in both our favours if we part ways, I’d prefer if we could do this amicably and still be friends afterwards. There’s no connection or intimacy anymore, we’re both too busy. Maybe if,” you sigh loudly unable to find the courage to finish the sentence. Luckily, Pedro knows what you’re thinking.

“If we were at a different stage in life, right?”

He finishes the thought in your head and you nod, fat tears falling down your face, his arms are quick to pull you into a hug, your head rests on his shoulder and he kisses the back of your head.

“I still love you, maybe things will work out for us one day, hm?”

You chuckle, the noise wet as you choke back your tears, “that would be a dream wouldn’t it?”

Having worked for Vanity Fair for the past 12 months, you had met some well known A-list celebrities, some in which would be here tonight at the mtv awards, some people attending not as well known but still nonetheless attending and perfectly deserving of your attention. Your black cocktail dress hugged your figure perfectly, hair pulled upward and styled neatly. Your faces natural beauty was accentuated by the light make up that had been carefully applied by the companies make up artist. The shades of pink and gold on your eyelids were glistening in the lights that shone a bright white overhead as you stood in the middle of the walkway right before the entry to the building where the awards were being held.

Your manager had warned you sympathetically that Pedro was one person you’d be interviewing, it didn’t take much reassuring on your behalf to assure her that although and and Pedro hadn’t really spoken since you broke up; besides the yearly birthday messages and him liking your Instagram posts, that things were okay between you and you were happy to interview him.

When you see him, he’s looking as handsome as ever. His brown hair had a few greying strands on the side of his head near his temples. The purple suit he wears clings to his body and he wears it with finesse, the grapefruit colour makes his skin look its glowing in a golden light, the suit hangs off his broad shoulders with no room to spare. A small heart-shaped patch in his black and grey beard was still failing to fill with hair on the left side of his face. He smiles so widely when he sees you, quickening his casual pace to a speed walk to bump his body into yours, wrapping his strong arms around you to pull you into a hug, his big muscles bulging against your dress-clad skin. You accept the hug and pull him into you, squeezing him as your arms wrap around the back of his neck, the cologne he wears compliments the natural musk of him that you recognise and miss so dearly.

You fight the urge to look at his plump lips a second time, the shade of pink whispered sweet words to draw you into him like a hypnotist, threatening you to kiss him against your will. He pulls back and stands tall next to you, he towers over you, even in your 3 inch heels.

“Pedro Pascal, what a warm welcome. Thank you so much for joining us this evening.” You greet warmly, holding the microphone between the small gap between your bodies, he misses the redness on your cheeks as he grins so widely his dimple exposes itself.

“Thank you for having me, it’s so great to be here, and it’s so great to see you, look at you, you’re looking stunning this evening.” He stands a little too close to you than he does anyone else that’s trying to get an interview from him, his fondness of you showing through the camera that records you.

“You always were a charmer weren’t you. This suit is incredible, you’re looking dapper tonight.” Your free hand that isn’t holding the mic gently runs a hand down his suit, keeping your hand on his chest, getting a feel for the material. You grin at the redness of his cheeks before getting to what the fans really want.

“Now, there is something your fans are begging me to address. As the self proclaimed biggest daddy on the internet, are your fans all your children?” Pedro laughs, the sound is ringing in your ears like the most delightful song you’ve ever heard. He takes the microphone from you and turns to the camera, “yes, you are all my children. I will warn you, grogu may get a little jealous.”

“That’s so sweet, why do you think you chose these roles that have you as basically a father figure?” You muse, eyes batting unintentionally as you’re drawn into his charming character. “I mean, truthfully I would love to have kids someday. Since that’s not an option right now I’m opting for the role of playing dad.” Your heart starts racing, both in awe and disappointment, knowing you would never be the one to bare his children, as his girlfriend or wife, you had missed your opportunity years ago.

“Now we do have a question that a lot of people are begging us to ask you and who are we to deny them?Does Joel Miller in the tv series meet the same fate as the game?” Pedro bares his teeth in a grimace and looks directly into the camera. “It’s going to be almost exactly the same, sorry kids.” He shrugs casually before turning back to you.

“Well Pedro it’s been such a delight to talk with you this evening, we’re wishing you and Bella the best to win an award, have a wonderful evening!” Pedros hands cross in front of his torso, fumbling with the silver ring that sits on his pinky. “Of course it’s amazing to see you. Thank you, have a great night.” He waves to you sweetly as he walks off with a staff member that’s leading him into the building. You stop filming and let out a big sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Your cameraman Andrew asks, “I’m okay, just feels like an open wound still, I guess.” He offers a sympathetic smile, “you did great. That was an awesome interview, everyone’s going to love it. Your chemistry is off the charts.”

You silently agree. The chemistry was still there, maybe you should just, text him later as a “it was so good to see you” curtesy text. Regardless of how terrible he was at texting, it would show you made an effort.

It’s been hours since you saw and spoke to Pedro, his image ingrained in your brain every time you close your eyes, where you’re normally met with blackness this night you’re met with his smile, the smell of his natural musk, the scent of his cologne lingered on your own skin as if he lie next to you. The heaviness of his hands as he hugged you felt as if he was still touching you, it made you restless. You were struggling to sleep even when the streets below your apartment began turning off their lights, one by one you seemed to be the only one wide awake in the neighbourhood.

11:28pm. After changing your mind about half a dozen times on what to write, you settle on something kind and friendly, and you send the text: “it was so good to see you tonight, you look great.”

To your surprise it’s barely a minute before he replies: “it was such a pleasure to see you, can I ask you something?”

Your heart is racing as you can barely think about what he could possibly ask, you assure him: “of course, anything.”

The bubble comes up as if he’s typing, then disappears. You grown as you watch him type and delete this message before it finally comes through after a few minutes: “going to bed anytime soon?”

You raise an eyebrow to yourself and whisper, “seriously that’s what took you so long?” And reply to him: “nope, wide awake.”

“Want some company? I can bring coffee.” You rub your eyes in disbelief, wondering if this is real or an illusion.

“Please do. You know how I like it.” You send through your address as you’ve moved to a newer and slightly bigger apartment in the last year. “Be there soon.” He replies without a moments notice.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself as you rush to the bathroom, attempting to make yourself look presentable, brushing your hair down neatly before braiding it, smoothing out your pyjamas and turning on some lights in the living room as you turn on the tv to Disney Plus turning on Moana as you attempt to sit comfortably.

There’s a soft knock at the door and you get an alert on your phone that someone’s outside, you check your phone, seeing Pedro standing in black pants, a white shirt and a large black trench-coat, a cardboard cup holder in hand with two Starbucks coffees occupying the space. You smooth out your pyjamas once again and unlock the two locks to your front door, feeling winded as you see your ex boyfriend standing there looking as beautiful as ever with a shy smile on his face.

You open the door and step to the side, “please, come in.” He shudders slightly from the breeze that drafts in from outside, your house abnormally warm and the feeling is welcome on his cold skin. “You have a nice place here. How long ago did you move in?” You take the coffees and sit them down in the cup holders in your lounge as he takes off his trench-coat, the atmosphere too warm for the accessory. “Coming up 12 months now. Right after I started working for Vanity Fair.”

You gesture for Pedro to sit on the lounge after he hands his coat on the coat hanger by the door, he keeps a respectable space between you, unlike earlier in the evening where he stood entirely too close. “Moana always was your favourite.” Pedro muses to himself. “Somethings never change.” You reply with a shrug, the statement having a double meaning behind it.

“Yeah, I guess. What’s new in your life anyway. Other than work and all the formalities?” He questions, the hopeful look in his eye beams as you sink comfortably into the grey couch, “nothing really, I’m quite boring these days. The same girl you know.” You sip your coffee and hum in contentment, missing the way Pedro whispered “and love.” After your statement, “thanks so much for the coffee, it’s perfect. It’s any wonder you still remember,” you admit.

“How could I forget my girls coffee order?” Pedro freezes, realisation of what he said sinks in. “I mean, I meant- I didn’t..” he stutters and you rest your hand on his, trying to diffuse his panicked state. “It’s okay, I’ve missed you you know. Seeing you tonight made me realise how much I never got over you.” The admission has both of your skin burning with desire and slight embarrassment. “You feel that way?” His voice is sweet, you wish he would just talk to you all night, you’d simply sit and listen.

“Of course I do. I’ve always loved you Pedro.” Just like that the bomb has dropped, the elephant in the room is too large and suffocating to ignore, you still love him, years later you still love him.

“I’ve been needing to hear that for such a long time. I love you, I was a fool to let you go,” you lean into the warmth of Pedro’s hand as he caresses your face, your heart rate spiking at his touch and confession. “We can always just.. pick up where we left off,” you offer sweetly. Pedro’s eyes raise at your offer, the ball was in his court and he was going to take it. Without another word he pulls you into him, your lips smashing into his, moulding together like two unique puzzle pieces that were made for each other.

You part your lips and grant him access to deepen the kiss, years of unspoken love and missing each other all came to surface with this kiss. When you pull apart you’re both heaving, foreheads pressed together you stare into his chocolate orbs. “Please be mine. I don’t think I could go another day knowing you’re not mine.” You exhale a shaky breath, the taste of him still on your lips, “I was always yours Pedro. We just had to find out way back.” Pedro’s thumb strokes your cheek and let’s put a small laugh, almost in relief. “I’m grateful we did. Everything feels right again.”

You nod as you silently agree with him, the hole left empty now felt overfilled, you knew your cup would never be empty again with Pedro by your side again, “stay the night.” Your nose grazes his cheek as you whisper. He pulls you into his lap, strong arms holding you in place as he kisses your shoulder. “When have I ever been able to say no to you?”

“I’ll teach you how to stop being such a people pleaser one day you know.” You jest lightly. “As long as I have you, none of that even matters, baby.” You turn to kiss him, the intoxicating sweetness of his lips is almost impossible to pull away from. “You’ll always have me. Promise.” A few moments of silence pass before you ask, “did you win the award?” Pedro hums before he realises what you’ve said, pulling his eyes away from the tv, “yeah we did, Bella was stoked, it was such a big moment for them.” You lean into his chest, smiling in content with how perfectly things were falling into place.

[terresdebrumestories]

This idea ambushed me in the shower and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so there you have it. This is the result of an hour of frantic typing on my phone and shall be cleaned up before I cross post it to AO3.

"I wanna come out," Jamie says, and Roy freezes in place so fast Phoebe bumps into his back and swears under her breath.

Roy doesn't even pretend to try and tease her for it, too stunned for words.

"If we win tonight," Jamie adds on the other end of the line, "I wanna come out."

"Are you sure?" Roy manages at last, and it comes out so raw Ruth does a double take in the kitchen, raising her eyebrows in question.

Roy, gripping his phone like he'll die if he lets go, shakes his head and turns away, making his way to the corridor on shaky legs. From very far away, he thinks he hears Phoebe ask if he's alright, but Roy pushes her out of his mind as soon as Jamie says:

"I'm sure."

"Jamie," Roy hisses, "it could end your career."

"So what?" Jamie says, and Roy almost ask who the fuck is possessing his partner.

"Jamie."

"Roy. I'm thirty-four. I've won the Premier League, the Europe League and the fucking World Cup. I'm in the fucking Olympics. Once I've won that, who the fuck cares if I get a goodbye tour?"

"You do," Roy says. Then Jamie grunts and Roy adds: "I'm with you. You know I am, always." Jamie hums, but it sounds like he's relenting, not skeptical, so Roy makes himself continue despite the risk of Ruth or Phoebe overhearing: "I just don't—I don't want you to regret it."

To regret me, Roy is surprised to mean. After all, they've been together for almost ten years now. Any coming out Jamie makes is likely to result in their relationship becoming public, and Roy...Roy has apparently not quite managed to get over their age difference as thoroughly as he thought he had.

"I won't," Jamie promises, the sound of his voice suddenly echoing, like he just stepped in a bathroom. "I really won't. Just 'cause I'm buzzin' doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

Roy can't help worrying anyway, but he still makes himself breathe in, and then out, and then say:

"Okay. Then I think you should do it."

"Oh, I was gonna," Jamie says, playful, and Roy smiles at his sister's bathroom door like an idiot. "But also. Em. I don't—if I'm gonna come out publicly, I don't wanna have to like. Pretend like I'm single or whatever. Or like. If I do get my fucking retirement tour and we meet in a game or whatever, I don't wanna have to pretend like I'm not dead gone on you, you know?"

Roy's heart expands in his chest, like it's trying to make a run for it through his ribs or something, and he knows he's full-on grinning at the bathroom door when he says:

"Me either. Please feel free to mention me by name."

"Grand," Jamie says over the sound of a shower turning on. "Great. Well. I gotta go soon but uh. Wish me luck?"

"Good luck," Roy obliges. And then, because he's had nearly ten years of practice to make this bit easy, he adds: "I love you."

"Love you too."

*

"What a game," Arlo White shouts on TV a few hours later, while Ruth and Phoebe do a victory dance around the couch, where Sam and Keeley are singing Jamie's stupid fucking chant along with the crowds in the stadium.

"What a game! What a play! What a goal! And what an ovation for Jamie Tartt, indubitably the man of the match!"

"I agree," Chris Powell adds, sounding almost excited for once, "I'd even say: what a career! Jamie Tartt won it all! Honestly Arlo, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to retire soon, I mean at this point what else does he need?"

"Oh shut the fuck up," Roy yells at the TV, earning himself a playful shove from Phoebe and a prod in the ribs from Keeley. "Stupid fucking pundits," he mutters into his champagne.

"That would be so much more convincing if you weren't pink with pride, babe," Keeley teases, and Roy grunts without heat.

The truth is, now that White and Powell have announced a transition on the ground and the camera switched to Barbara Carnahan on the side of the pitch, Roy feels himself tense with anticipation. Everyone here knows about him and Jamie, of course, but they don't know what he's planning to do. That leaves Roy alone to deal with the nerves of Jamie's impending announcement, and holy fucking shit, they're a lot.

"First of all," Carnahan says when she catches Jamie and gets him to stand in front of her camera, "I want to congratulate you on an absolutely marvelous game!"

Roy watches Jamie's tongue dart out in celebration, like he's a goddamned emoji or something, and finds himself gripping Keeley's hand out of sheer need to share the moment with someone.

"Thanks," Jamie says, sobering up a little bit, "We did really good, yeah!"

"Oh, definitely! How does it feel? Did you expect this when you woke up this morning?"

"Well, you know," Jamie says, running a hand through his hair, "nothing's ever certain, but I knew our chances were good, yeah, so I was like. Fairly optimistic about it."

"And you were right!" Carnahan agrees with a little bounce. "I'll admit I was nervous when the first half ended at one-one, but that goal in injury time was magnificent!"

"Yeah, Satō gave me a great assist there, that kid's gonna get far," Jamie says, wiping at his brow.

To Roy's left, Sam coos a little, happy to see one of his Marseille teammates get some recognition. He hasn't looked that cheerful since he busted his knee right before the Olympics started and he knew he had to sit the competition out.

"What was going on in your head at that moment?" Carnahan asks Jamie. "As the whistle blew and you realized you'd won, where did you mind go? Is there anyone you thought of in particular?"

"Well there's me mum, of course," Jamie says. "She's in the stands, and I'm really glad she could be here for this. And then there's my partner."

Around Roy, the living room falls into the most intense silence he's ever heards, even as Jamie adds:

"Actually, is it okay if I talk to him for a sec?"

"Him?" Carnahan asks, at the same time as Keeley and Phoebe shriek:

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, him," Jamie says, prompting Sam to shout and grab Roy's left shoulder. "Can I talk to him?"

And this. This wasn't the script, right? Roy thought—usually—this isn't. No. No!

...no?

"Oh my god, uncle Roy!" Phoebe is saying, gripping Roy's right shoulder, "Oh my god!"

"Yes, sure," Barbara Carnahan says with the dazed look of a reporter who's just been hit with the exclusive of the decade, "go ahead."

Jamie grins, and thanks her, and then he takes a deep breath—Roys mirrors him, can't help it, feels like he's about to explode, or melt, or both—

"Roy," Jamie says on the screen, eyes turned straight at the camera so it looks like he's actually watching Roy in 16:9 format, "it's hard to remember what it was like to hate you enough to nearly fight you right on the pitch."

Someone says a very strangled 'what the fuck' and it takes Roy a second to realize it's Keeley, but also the reporter on the telly.

"Turns out you're actually one of the best men I've ever fucking met—" ('Oh my god!' Says Keeley, slapping Roy's arm.) "You support me and challenge me all the fucking time, you're funny, and the grumpiest arse in the morning." ('OH MY GOD!' shouts Phoebe from behind Roy.) "I've spent nine years of my life loving you to your face, and you've taken it like a champ so far...so what do you say we make it official and tie the knot?"

"OH MY GOD!" Screams the living room, pushing and pulling and slapping at Roy.

He can barely breathe, feels himself grow twice, thrice, ten times bigger than he normally is, floating like a bubble of champagne as Phoebe nearly breaks his nose trying to shove his phone against his ear—"YOU HAVE TO FUCKING CALL HIM, UNCLE ROY!"

And then there's a dial tone, and some spluttering on tv, and more shouting, and a phone comes into view, lands against Jamie's ear, and then—

"You motherfucker!" Roy yells into the phone, and Jamie-on-the-screen blinks and grins, and Jamie-on-the-phone gives this little hitch of breath he does when he thinks 'I love you', and Roy is saying: "You absolute wanker! No fucking warning—"

And Jamie-on-the-screen scrunches his nose and grins harder, and Roy's heart goes into fucking overdrive, his pulse loud in his ears and in his palms, and Jamie-on-the-phone asks:

"So like, that's a yes, right?"

"Yes! Of course it's a yes you gigantic prick!" Roy yells, and Jamie-on-the-screen fist pumps while Roy's world turns into one giant shriek of joy, and then there's champagne popping, and four different footballers bursting on the screen to hug and jump up and down and shout so loud Roy hears them even when Jamie has to take the phone away from his ear.

"Oh my god!" Keeley shouts, muffled, into Roy's neck when he hangs up, knowing full well there's no way Jamie's getting back to his phone until much later tonight. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!"

"Did you really not know?" Phoebe asks, shouting into his other ear.

"I knew he wanted to come out and go public about us," Roy says, falling back from the adrenaline-induced shouting to the best sort of daze. "I didn't know he was going to propose!"

And Roy sounds grumpy about it, he knows he does—will probably get shit from Jamie about it as soon as his fucking plane lands, really! And his sister, his niece, his friends are being way too loud about it, and now his phone's buzzing and will probably keep buzzing for the next four or five hours, and Roy sounds grumpy but he does not mean it for a fucking second.

[ratasum]

*breaks into your bedroom* if You're cool with it, can you talk about ur version of Zojja 0v0

So I'm gonna put this under a cut but there are two things to start with: Jenn and I had been considering how to rework our original story with the announcement, and have since decided we won't be changing our stuff at all.

The most important thing to note is that we had been rping for the last decade like Zojja had been there the whole time. And we had considered "Maybe we'll switch that around now that they're bringing her back!"

And then, in our opinion and it's fine if you don't agree but in our opinion, they absolutely botched it.

So we made the decision that she didn't go to the wizards, someone else entirely winds up there, and that's completely altered the trajectory, which I can get into later on. To start: what's up with Zojja?

While back in Rata Sum post-HoT, she was a captive audience. We know from canon that she was a very sought after genius, and since she was stuck in a medical ward recovering, she couldn't stand all the stress. It was something she relayed to Vezz in letters frequently, and spoke to when Taimi visited, as well as once Qirri was well enough herself to visit. She mentioned it often to Eir, as well, since she would come by to check in on her. (This is another complicated bit but! We press on!)

During this time she also thought Leyya was dead. This was because Leyya had run off after learning what happened to her and hadn't been seen since.

It was some time after this, near the end of S3, that Zojja got to the point that she was tired of feeling like she was being watched, feeling like something was present, and feeling the council breathe down her neck to use as a pawn. But right as she was planning to find a way to sneak away was when Leyya finally got over her fear of telling everyone the truth and came back.

There was a half angry, half tearful reunion, with both of them discussing their struggles and anxieties, and finally decided to head to Lion's Arch together. And with help from the Order of Whispers, they got set up at @wall-legion's Odetta's soap shop.

This did involve dealing with Sheridan, a Mordrem. We haven't figured out how they figured that out yet but it takes some time.

It's a lot, but it helps both of them. Zojja can work on recovering peacefully among people she trusts with someone she cares about, even though the chronic pain and fatigue never fully leave her.

They reenter the actual narrative for the first time in Icebrood Saga, when Rytlock calls in a favor from Tyria's premiere dragon expert to help, and she's present when Garrus and Qirri are badly injured by Bangar. Frustrated with her continued struggle with her recovery from Maguuma, she at least does what she can to help out.

(There's an important scene here with Qirri and Zojja that I want to draw but I'm still very shaky in my art confidence so... someday.)

She even helps the krewe get set up in Cantha, watching the two girls she mentored finally come into their own as tough, capable young women. And starts wondering if they still need her guidance at all.

Which is why Zojja is eventually with Odetta and Leyya when they get to wizlandia in the first place.

We had swapped the order of WLB/WLW and the epilogue, so after the epilogue Caithe disappeared... and imagine everyone's surprise when they find her in Wizlandia instead. And talk starts of this talented young elementalist with a deep well of unusual power. If only she'd stay with them...

I can go into more detail on whatever anyone would like, but that's more or less the nutshelled version of it!

[mickimagnum]

Devin's Dude Ranch: Episode One (Part One)

Venessa (voice over): "Welcome to Echo Valley Ranch in beautiful Chestnut Ridge, home of Grand Champion horse trainer, nectar magnate, and Bachelorette, Devin Delaney."

Venessa (continues): "I'm your host, Venessa Jeong and this is the premiere of Devin's Dude Ranch. Devin, how are you doing tonight?"

Devin: "Excited. And nervous, my palms are sweaty."

*Devin quickly swipes her hands across the back of her dress*

*Venessa smirks and tries to hide it*

Venessa: "I think that's understandable. I mean, you're about to potentially meet the love of your life for the first time."

Devin: "I suppose that's reason enough for a little perspiration, yes."

Venessa: "Yes, exactly. Alright, Devin. In just a minute, the first contestant will make his way right down your driveway and introduce himself. Are you ready to meet the five men who came here with the intention of winning your heart?"

*Devin draws in a deep breath as if summoning her courage*

Devin: I am.

*footsteps crunch along the dirt driveway as the first contestant makes his toward Devin*

*She cranes her neck to watch his approach as a smile begins to play at the corners of her mouth*

Contestant #1: "I can't believe I'm finally standing here in front of you. Hi, I'm Handra," *draws in a shaky breath then laughs* "I'm sorry, I'm really nervous. ...Watcher, you are...so beautiful."

Handra (in diary room): "I'm here because I'm ready to settle down. Marriage. Kids. The happily-ever-after. It's what I want, more than anything. And I'm excited to get to know Devin throughout this experience. Everything I know about her, on paper...she could be exactly what I've been looking for."

Devin: "Thank you; that's very sweet," *bites her lower lip and tucks her hair behind her ear, obviously blushing* "It's nice to meet you, Handra. And if it makes you feel better, I'm super nervous too."

*both laugh*

Handra: "I made you something," *he holds out the box he's been carrying so Devin can get a better look* "I know you said making pizza was your love language, and that's something we have in common, so..."

*Handra opens the box to reveal its contents*

Handra (in a playful tone): "Devin Delaney, you've stolen a pizza my heart."

*A grin spreads across Devin's face before a chorus of laughter escapes her throat*

Devin (teasingly): "Would you say this was made with love?"

*Handra smiles*

Handra: "Definitely."

*Devin is still smiling*

Devin: "Well then I can't wait to try it. Thank you. This is amazing. And my favorite type of gift, for the record."

*the two hug*

Handra: "You are very welcome. I look forward to getting to know you, Devin."

Devin: "The feeling is very mutual."

*after the pair separates, Handra makes his way into the house*

Devin: "Okay. You guys did good picking Handra. He's got a good sense of humor. He seems kind and considerate. And he's so cute I literally thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest the whole we were standing there. Did I mention he brought me pizza!? That he made!? With a heart on it!?"

NEXT

Handra submitted by @bloomingkyras

[what-immortal-hand-or-eye]

Hey, I really loved your work, and since you write so well you probably have EXCELLENT taste. So, are there some trigun fics you'd like to recommend?

AAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU THIS IS SO SWEET. Uhhhh here's a selection from my bookmarks and subscriptions, I've never done this before so please excuse me if I break etiquette somehow

I'll always go to bat for Becoming Eden [It's Me I'm Trees] by Lenipez, because this is the fic that directly inspired me to start writing for Trigun. Do you like body horror? Do you like prose poetry? Do you feel like a stranger within your own skin? Do you like ABBA? This is the fic for you!

Gunpowder Nights by OnMyShore makes me want to bite things. The characterization is *mwah*

Trilium and Ivy by ShastaFirecracker is a "Four Seasons Total Landscaping AU" and if that doesn't immediately make you want to read it idk what to tell you. Also, it's a whole series, and part 3 cold clocked me in the middle of the day :)

will we ever grow a proper sense of panic by procrastinatingbookworm (and anything by it tbh). That *good* angst. Extraordinarily well characterized with that buzzy shaky after crisis feeling that I know all too well. Also let Wolfwood and Meryl take a nap for the love of GOD.

Swinging back around to something more lighthearted we have love and leg stretches by verboseDescription. Polyguns t4t4t4t and frank discussions of disability that make me feel all melty inside :D

Do you like 98 Trigun? Are you haunted by the gap between episodes 18 and 19? The Only Nice Thing That Follows by hellogaywatson. Do it. *Do it*

You'd think that with a name like The No Good Very Bad Space Weed Bonanza of Summer 0104, ghosttopiary would be giving us a fun silly time. Well, that's never the case with AO3's premier Stampede Wolfwood understander. But it is still very funny.

i am humbled by breaking down by vashuusan is another good one! Post ep7 care and a leg prosthetic scene that had me Feeling Things.

Wow that's more than I thought! I might add more later, but a lot of these are from my bookmarks, so feel free to check through those! Thanks again for the complement, and I hope you like these!

[sweetreveriee]

That One Chap Where Farley Breaks Her Leg but make it MareCal

I gasped, one hand flying to my mouth. Farley’s leg was a stomach-turning sight. Her leg had done a complete 180, starting from her knee and twisting up. I reached out to grab onto the nearest person and almost retracted when I felt a familiar warmth. Looking up, I saw Tiberias-no, not Tiberias, Cal. This was Cal, without the stoic persona he puts on for his grandmother and the court. His face was full of emotion, albeit it being fear and disgust, it was still a better alternative to the emptiness that now inhabited his bronze eyes.

He squeezed my hand, a reminder. I’m here, he seemed to say. I squeezed back before turning to Farley. “HEALER! SOMEONE GET A HEALER,” Cal screamed while I comforted Farley, who was grimacing as she cursed everything under the sun. Instead of a healer, I see Davidson running towards us. “What happened? Is everything ok?” He scanned the area, turning slightly green at the sight of Farley’s leg. “She needs a healer,” I say grimly. Cal nods next to me. Farley straightens. “I’ll be fine, we need to get out of here, lest we get attacked again.” I hated to admit she was right, but it wasn’t just a small cut or bruise that she could walk off. Even Farley wasn’t invincible, no one could walk with a leg like hers.

The premier stepped forward. “I can try a Red method,” he said slowly. “It’s going to hurt though. I have to physically push the bone back into place, and there’s no skin healer magic to lessen the pain.” I winced at Davidson’s words. Once Kilorn and I had been running through the river when I slipped and dislocated my shoulder. I was crying for hours after Shade had popped it back into place.

“Do it.”

Farley’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as I turned to face her. Her face was twisted to form a grimace as she squeezed her eyes shut. Not wanting to watch, I buried my face in Tiberias, no Cal’s, side. He seemed to stiffen but immediately let loose again, snaking an arm around my waist as he buried his face in my hair, not wanting to watch either. It almost felt like we were back at the base in Tuck. If I imagined enough, we were in his bunk, laughing and cuddling after a workout.

A sickening pop and a cry of pain from Farley later, her knee was back to normal, though very shaky. It took me and Cal both to help her stand, and Davidson supporting her from behind to walk to the transport. I squeezed her hand slightly, and she returned the gesture. Once she was situated in her transport with Davidson, the last one was left for me and Cal. We stood awkwardly by the entrance for a moment before Cal broke the silence. “Ladies first,” he said, wearing a smile that resembled that stupid, crooked grin he wore. I resisted the urge to laugh.

Stupid, I told myself. This isn’t your Cal.

I decidedly ignored the fact that my traitorous brain called him mine.

In the transport, we faced across from each other. Cal drummed his fingers on his knee and stared at the window, while my focus was on my lap. As luck would have it, we decided to look up and the same time, making eye contact. I didn’t dare break it, even the air between us was fragile. “I’m sorry,” he said first, which took me aback. “What for?” I sputtered. He stiffened, going silent for a moment, thinking about his words.

I almost wish he stayed silent.

“For not choosing you.”

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, but my eyes never strayed away from his.

IF PPL LIKE THIS ILL DO A PART 2

[balanchine-ballet-master]

Four Dancers Promoted to Principal at New York City Ballet

by Gia Kourlas The New York Times

Early Sunday evening, just after New York City Ballet’s final performance of the season, four soloists received the kind of postseason gift every dancer dreams of: Emilie Gerrity, Isabella LaFreniere, Roman Mejia and Mira Nadon were elevated to the rank of principal dancer. They learned of their promotions onstage after the curtain fell on “The Sleeping Beauty,” receiving the news from Jonathan Stafford, the company’s artistic director, and Wendy Whelan, its associate artistic director. During that ballet’s two-week run, and throughout the winter season, they had all made important debuts, including originating roles in the premiere of Justin Peck’s evening-length “Copland Dance Episodes.”

Mira Nadon in The Sleeping Beauty. Photo by Erin Baiano.

Nadon, the youngest at 21, is newsworthy beyond her shimmering technique and overall radiance. She is also the company’s first Asian American female principal. (Her mother is South Asian.) “I had no idea,” she said, adding that the news was “really amazing and quite an honor.”

As for the promotion itself? Nadon, usually composed, sounded shaky. “I still haven’t quite processed it, but it’s just a whole new height that you have to hold yourself to,” she said. “To be in the top rank in the company is a big responsibility. I feel like I have a lot of work to grow into that title, but I’m really excited to start.”

During the winter season, Nadon, who was born in Boston and began her training at the Inland Pacific Ballet Academy in Montclair, Calif., was especially busy: She made debuts in George Balanchine’s “Stravinsky Violin Concerto” and “Episodes,” Jerome Robbins’s “Rondo”—opposite LaFreniere—and as the Lilac Fairy and Diamond in Peter Martins’s “The Sleeping Beauty.”

Isabella LaFreniere as Princess Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty. Photo by Erin Baiano.

Both she and LaFreniere, from Lambertville, Mich., were promoted to soloist in 2022. LaFreniere, 26, who danced Aurora in “Beauty” for the first time last week, joined the company in 2014. Injuries have curtailed her progress, but she emerged from the pandemic refreshed and recharged, making important debuts in two vintage gems: Balanchine’s “Chaconne” and Balanchine and Robbins’s “Firebird,” which she reprised this season with mystery and mastery.

Roman Mejia in Allegro Brillante. Photo by Erin Baiano.

Mejia, 23, who made “Beauty” debuts as Bluebird and Gold, has in recent seasons shown his athletic virtuosity as Oberon in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” and in “Rubies” from “Jewels.” Born in Fort Worth, Texas, he has ballet in his blood. Starting at age 3, he began training with his parents, Maria Terezia Balogh and Paul Mejia, a former dancer with City Ballet. Mejia, too, was transformed after the pandemic; his brashness took on a new refinement, while retaining its ebullient power. In 2021, he was promoted to soloist.

Emilie Gerrity in Agon. Photo by Paul Kolnik.

Gerrity, at 32, has long been an integral, versatile member of the company, joining in 2010 and becoming a soloist in 2017. That kind of longevity can stunt a dancer, but Gerrity, who possesses a voluptuous strength, has seemingly used the time to develop her own artistic voice. This season, she made debuts as the Lilac Fairy in “Sleeping Beauty,” as well as in Balanchine’s “Walpurgisnacht Ballet.”

Born in Danbury, Conn., Gerrity began training at 5 and went onto study at the New Paltz School of Ballet and before joining City Ballet, studied at the company’s affiliated School of American Ballet, along with all the new principals. “I’m freaking out,” she said. “I feel crazy in all ways. I’ve worked my entire life to get here.”

Gerrity has been in the company the longest of the four. “I remember being like, I don’t know if it’s going to happen—because you really do never know,” she said. “But I was like, I’m getting these amazing opportunities, and why am I going to sit here and think maybe it’s not going to happen versus just applying myself and trying to be better each time?”

She added, “Of course, tears were shed.”

[allthingsfangirl101]

AFS Chapter 7: All Good Things Must Come To An End

Masterlist

After Joe paid the bill, they started to leave. As they walked outside, Joe moved her so she was on his right side opposite the street. They walked to the car when suddenly Evelyn started acting weird. Her hands shook and she stepped closer to Joe.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

"Joe," Evelyn said under her breath.

"What?"

Just then, they were surrounded by paparazzi. As the leeches with cameras circled around them, Evelyn started struggling to breathe. She tucked into Joe's chest and he could feel her shaking. He looked down and saw how white her face had gotten.

Then he sprung into action.

He unwrapped his arms from around her, his heart dropping when she gasped in disapproval. He quickly grabbed her hand and pushed through the paparazzi. As soon as they got through, Joe started running. He wasn't sure where they were going. All he knew was that he had to get her away from them.

When he figured they had gotten far enough away from them, he pulled Evelyn into a well-lit alley. She looked around, her heart racing so fast she could hear her blood pumping.

"Evelyn?" Joe's nerves slowly started to rise as the adrenaline wore off. He scanned her face but it was almost like she hadn't heard him.

"You okay?"

"I can't. . ."

Joe looked down and saw her hands were shaking. He didn't think. He grabbed Evelyn's hands and pulled her into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. He let out a small sigh of relief when he felt Evelyn slowly wrap her arms around his waist. It took her a few seconds before she tightened her hold on him.

"Take a deep breath for me," Joe whispered.

"I can't," she stuttered.

"Yes, you can," Joe said instantly. "Listen to my breathing and copy it. Okay? Like this."

He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. He repeated that until she joined in. Each time he took a deep breath, so did she. Soon, her breathing was back to normal.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaky. He squeezed her shoulders in reassurance.

Evelyn stepped out of Joe's embrace, instantly replacing his arms with her own.

"I'm sorry about all that," she said, her usual confidence not coming through. "Sometimes. . . It's stupid and I should be used to it now, but whenever I get corned by paparazzi I shut down. My head starts spinning and I can't breathe. . . It's kinda pathetic when you think about it–an actress scared of the paparazzi."

"No, it's not," Joe said quickly. "It's not pathetic, Evelyn. It's understandable."

Silence fell between the two. Joe looked over and saw how uncomfortable Evelyn was.

"Hey," he said sweetly, "let's get out of here."

* * * * *

"Can I ask you something?" Joe hesitated.

"Of course," Evelyn said, knowing where this was going.

"You go to premieres all the time," Joe slowly started. "How do you get through them?"

"Let's just say," she chuckled, "a very strategic amount of alcohol."

"Enough to get you buzzed but not enough to slur your words," Joe laughed in understanding.

"Exactly," she smiled. "Plus, at premieres, it's not so bad. I mean, all the paparazzi are behind a makeshift wall."

"They aren't allowed to swarm you," he nodded. His stomach turned sour when he remembered.

"Wait," he said slowly, "don't you have a premiere this Sunday?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. She let out a small laugh when she saw the look on his face. "Joe, we just went through this. I've gone to premieres before."

"What if I went with you?" Joe suggested before he could think it through.

"What?" Evelyn stuttered.

"It wouldn't be for publicity or anything. It'd be for you," he quickly added. "I wouldn't be there to help myself but to help you. That way, if you got nervous on the red carpet with the paparazzi, I'd be there. I helped you with your panic attack tonight. Maybe I can do it again."

Evelyn studied Joe to see if all of this was some angle he was working. When she figured it out, she still wasn't sure. She had to ask, just to be sure.

"You'd really be willing to be arm candy? For my benefit, not yours?"

"Would it help you if I came with you?" He asked instead of answering her question.

"Yes," she said, her voice dropping.

"Then I'll do it."

[happybird16]

Massage

Levi Ackerman/ Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Fluff, Muscle worship, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Cock warming

Summary: In honor of the anime premier of Levi's glorious back. After years of trying, Levi finally accepts your offer of a back massage.

Word Count: 4.3k

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37399426

Note: I wrote this in one sitting, so I apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. Please feel free to point out any glaring errors.

Tag list: @holy-guacamoly

His skin is smooth, soft and warm against the pads of your fingers as you glide them along his back. The room is dark, barely lit by the soft flicker of a nearby candle. He releases a low groan beneath you; you feel it vibrate through his torso and into your thighs. It’s a noise of relief, as you work your fingers against the stiff muscles of his shoulders. This moment feels fake, like a dream. You can’t help but think back on how you’d arrived here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Levi always works so hard, devoting himself entirely to humanity as the cost of his own health. As a member of his squad, you’d watched on multiple occasions he worked himself to exhaustion and beyond. Now as a fellow captain, you’ve only grown more familiar with his need to overwork himself. Always working to be better; faster, stronger, and to make others the same. He barely sleeps, choosing to nap a few hours at his desk every couple days. You can’t imagine the stress he must carry; the weight of humanity on his shoulders.

Entering his office to drop off some paperwork before lights out, you are barely surprised to find the man softly dozing at his desk. Sitting up, back stiff against his chair and arms crossed, the man looks imposing even in convalescence. He could have been wide awake if not for his soft, rhythmic breaths.

His sharp eyes snap open at the soft footfalls of your approach, immediately meeting your own gaze. He seems vaguely embarrassed to have been caught dozing at his desk, though it was hard to tell despite how long you’ve known the man.

Calling your name in greeting, the sound of your first name familiar is on his lips. It’s an earned privilege, after years of toiling and training underneath him. A familiarity that you now share, with your rise in rank.

“Levi.” The use of his first name still fills your belly with excitement. Moving to take the papers from your grasp, he seems especially stiff as he rises from his chair. The usual hard line of his shoulders seems extra severe under the flickering candlelight.

It worries you, how much the man pushes himself for humanity. He never takes a day off, training even on free days. You’ve voiced your concerns several times prior, always brushed off with an ‘I’m fine.’ or a dismissive click of the tongue. He must have pushed himself extra hard today, judging by the stiffness of his gate as he moves around the desk to you. His shoulders hunch slightly, as he stands by your side to read the paperwork.

Unable to help yourself, you voice your concerns once again. “Your back and shoulders are all stiff and tense again. Want a massage? It’ll help with the muscle strain?” Your eyes follow the stiff turn of his neck as his gaze rises to your face.

The offer, as always, isn’t completely selfless. You’ve always wanted to say something, to voice your desire for the severe man. To finally see and feel him beneath the perfect press of his uniform; his skin hot and slick against your own. You want him relaxed and stress free, yes, but you also want him.

To your complete surprise, he says yes, a soft smile on his lips at your concern. It takes you aback for a moment, you’d never expected him to acquiesce to your demands; much less with such a soft look on his handsome face.

“O..oh okay. I’ll be right back! I just have to grab some lotion from my room.” Your voice is shaky in your reply.

“Don’t leave me waiting too long, Brat.”

“I’ll be quick!” You practically sprint to your office down the hall, swiping a bottle of lotion off of the desk in your room. Swapping out of your uniform, you quickly dawn some more comfortable shorts and a T-shirt. Something easier to move around in than the stiff material of your uniform.

Slightly out of breath from your sprint, the sight that meets you at your return steals the rest of the air from your lungs. He’d used the time that you had been gone to remove the straps of his gear, his boots and socks already neatly placed to the side of his desk. As you’d entered the small office his fingers had just begun working to undo the buttons of his shirt. The sight makes your mouth feel dry.

You’d known that Levi was a mass of rippling muscle; everyone could tell that on sight. The view of it however, is absolutely breathtaking. His back is a rippling mass of hard lines of muscle, his lean shoulders and arms bulging and shifting as he folds his shirt and places it on his desk. The sight of his front is even better; it makes you feel lightheaded, your thighs already clenching in arousal. A powerful eight pack of abs trails down his core, shifting and flexing with every movement, every breath. His pecs are firm, bulging out from his torso and tipped with tight pink nipples. There’s even small bunches of muscle flanking either side of his abs; obliques, you think they’re called. You want to run your tongue along them.

As you eye the hard v-ing line of muscles that curves along his hips and trails into his pants, you hear him clear his throat to get your attention. The noise startles you, making you jolt your eyes up to his. He must have heard you close his office door. Hopefully he hadn’t seen you staring too long. That’d be embarrassing.

“How do you want me?” His phrasing does not help your predicament, forcing you to swallow a squeak. Are his ears slightly pink? It must be your imagination. His gaze is firm against your own, there’s a heat in them that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before.

Shifting the bottle in your hands, you lick your lips to try to regain some moisture in your mouth. “M..maybe lay on your bed?” You can practically hear your heart beating in your ears, feel it clogging your throat as you take a heavy gulp.

How am I going to live through this? My heart is going to give out.

He grunts in response, lifting the single flickering candle from the hard wood of his desk. With a flick of his free hand, he beckons you to follow him into the darkness of his room. “Come on then.”

You can’t help but watch his back ripple as he leads you into the bedroom. The hard lines on his shoulders shift with each step, the sharp curve of his spine is flanked by even more hard lines of muscle along his shoulders and lower back. There’s even two v-ing lines curving along his hips and into the back of his pants, echoing the ones on his torso.

Trying to gather your wits, you take a deep breath as you close the bedroom door behind the two of you; pausing for a moment to kick off your shoes and socks. Levi continues forward to place the candle on his bedside table with a soft thunk, before turning to look at you questioningly. “What do you want next?”

So much.

Your mouth is dry again, despite your earlier efforts. Coming up beside him, you place the bottle of lotion next to the candle. Thinking back on how stiffly he’d been walking earlier, your mouth moves without thought.

“Take off your pants too.”

Oh no that sounded bad.

He quirks a brow before moving his hands to unbutton his white trousers. The sight makes you actually squeak out loud this time. “Mind telling me why you want me in my underwear for this?”

“Y..your legs seemed stiff when you were walking around earlier. I..I can help with that too.” You're thankful his eyes are on his task, you can’t help but drink in the sight before you.

He grunts distractedly in response as he slides the stiff material down his thighs. Even his thighs are firm, thick with firm lines of muscle cutting along the insides. They’re coated with a light dusting of dark hair that seems to get thicker as it spreads down to his calves. They ripple and tense as he shifts from one leg to the other to remove the offensive material. You watch his biceps bulge and flex and he finally frees himself of the cloth, folding the trousers and placing them on the table. There’s a hard curve in his underwear. Is he..?

“Oi! What now?” He’d definitely caught you staring this time, you can feel your face flush with embarrassment. Meeting his gaze once again, you note that his ears are definitely tinged red this time. Is he turned on?

“Uh..” Don’t concern yourself with that right now, focus. You have to wet your lips again before speaking. “Lay face down in the middle of your bed.”

He bobs his head in agreement, gifting you with the sight of his back once again as he lifts a knee to rise onto the mattress. It creaks beneath his weight as he shifts to the middle of the surface. He releases a surprisingly soft sigh as he lays down flat, pressing his face into his unused pillow; cushioned by the crook of his arms.

You follow him into the plus surface, the fabric of it feels cool against your bare knees. He turns his head, eyeing you as you move to straddle his back. Pressing your knees to the mattress on either side of him, you perch yourself directly on the round curve on his ass. It's surprisingly plush beneath you, though you feel it tense in surprise at the contact. His whole body tenses up in fact, you can feel it against your inner thighs and see it along the hard ridges of his back.

“I’ve.. never done this before.” What a surprise, Levi. His gaze strays from yours again as he presses his face back into the pillow.

“Admittedly, I’ve never massaged a man before. Only fellow female soldiers when I was in the dorms.” Much less an extremely attractive man.

“Just relax. You’ll find this quite pleasurable.” Phrasing. Again. Control yourself. His ears definitely tinged darker at your words, though.

You run your hands slowly along his sides, trying to encourage him to loosen up. He takes a deep breath as you run your fingers along his shoulder blades, before finally loosening up.

Happy, you finally move to grab the lotion bottle from the bedside table. Pouring some into the palm of your hand, you place the bottle to stand up beside his pillow. Spreading the cool lotion between your hands, you allow it to warm against your skin. He jolts a little underneath you at the first press of your slick hand.

“Is it cold?” His skin is so warm beneath your hands, the lotion has to feel cool despite your efforts.

“It’s fine.” The words are muffled as he burrows his head further into the pillow.

You start with long wide strokes along his back, feeling along the length of his spine and smoothing along his flanks. Dragging your fingers against the tense muscle along either side of his spine, before dragging your fingers along one side of his lower back. You repeat this motion several times, kneading your fingers into the skin of his lower back to his side in short circular strokes. He releases a soft sigh at the motion as you mirror your actions along his other side.

Sliding your digits back up along his spine, you press your fingers into the edge of his spine at his shoulders. Digging into the muscle there, you slide your finger to one of his shoulder blades. There’s a lot of tension there and he releases a deep grunt at the attention.

“Is that too hard?” Your female friends like a little less pressure, but you thought he’d like a bit more.

“No. It’s perfect.” He sounds groggy almost, his voice the most relaxed you’ve ever heard it.

Repeating the motion on his other shoulder, he releases almost a moan. It’s an exhilarating sound that has you clenching your thighs against his back. Swirling your thumbs in light circular strokes down and then harder up along the sides of his spine, you can feel the tension easing along the hard ridge.

Pouring more lotion into your hand, you decide to focus on the horrible tension of his neck and shoulders. Pushing your weight forward, you press both your hands into his shoulders; pressing him down into the mattress in firm circles. Digging your fingertips into his skin, you glide your fingers along the edge of one of his shoulder blades in long smooth strokes. Repeating the motion, the tension starts to ease along the hard muscle there. He hums at the sensation, turning his head to gaze at you with one heavy lidded eye.

“Is that good?” You move to mirror your actions along his other shoulder blade, digging your fingers into a particularly hard knot on that side. He groans loudly at the firm press.

“S’good.” There’s a slur to his words; you can feel him press his hips harder against the mattress beneath your thighs. You circle several fingers along the ridge of his spine at the nape of the neck, his eye blinking heavily at the motion. He’s not holding in the noises anymore, grunting and groaning at the hard press of your fingers along his spine.

Sliding your hands in long soothing motions down along his back to the edge of his underwear, you can’t believe how limp and relaxed he feels under your touch. How hot he looks beneath you, bulging muscles slick and at your mercy. Pressing yourself further against the plush curve of his ass, you hope that he can’t feel how absolutely soaked you are. You’ve been subconsciously rolling your hips against his ass, you’d be completely embarrassed if he’d noticed.

Gathering more lotion in your hands, you rise on your knees, intending to release the stiffness in his legs. Kneeling between his thick thighs you press your hands against the hard muscle of one of his calves, smoothing along the muscle in a long stroke all the way up to the curve of his ass. He mumbles as you repeat the motion, blurting out ‘feels good’ and ‘yess’ in short rumbling gasps. It’s exhilarating that he seems to have lost his usual firm grasp on his filter.

There’s a lot of tension in the firm muscles of his calves and thighs. You dig your thumbs into the muscle there, gliding up along his calves in a firm press. This earns a deep grunt, his hips pressing further into the mattress once again. You circle your thumbs along the back of his knee, before pushing the heels of your hands against his thick thigh.

Mirroring the motion your gaze wanders back up to meet his own. He still has his head turned, his cheek cushioned on the crook of his arm. His gaze is still heavy lidded, once again filled with an unfamiliar heat. It seems that he’s been watching you.

With final long soothing strokes along his legs, you stop to gaze questionably at his feet before meeting his own again. You’ve never given a foot massage before, but you're filling to try for him.

“Do you want…?”

“No.” His words are firm, cutting you off before you can finish the question.

He moves to rise, biceps bulging as he shifts into his back, legs carefully shifting to keep you between them. His ears are still tinged red, his cheeks are a little pink even. He sits up quickly, raising a hand to glide along your arm and up your shoulder, before finally cupping the back of your head.

“What..” You're interrupted yet again, this time by the firm press of his lips against your own. The kiss is hot, full of passion despite being all lips.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you watching me. I said yes to this for more than one reason.” His voice is surprisingly deep, gruff with desire and passion. He was aroused. Is aroused.

“Ride me.” His words are a command as much as a plea as his back stretches along the mattress once again. He’s rock hard, you notice, twitching and soaking the fabric of his underwear. So that’s why he was thrusting against the bed.

“I could feel you rutting against my ass, you know. Bet you're drenched.” His taunt brings a different flush to your face. You are soaked, absolutely dripping with need. You have been since the first glimpse of his rippling back muscles back in his office.

The heat in his gaze makes you clench and throb as he lowers a hand to palm himself through his underwear. The hard ridges of his abs twitch with the pleasure of the movement, drawing your gaze along the beguiling trail of dark hair below his belly button and along the band of his underwear. The sight makes your mouth water.

“Still watching me?” The teasing lilt is still in his voice. “Take those off and come here.” He’s eyeing your shirt and shorts with sudden disdain, hand sliding beneath the fabric of his briefs to continue playing himself. Your name leaves his lips in a soft gasp as he thrusts lightly into his hand.

The sight makes your clit throb with need. I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve wanted this for so long. You quickly shift to kick off your shorts and underwear before moving to sit on his thighs. He pulls his own underwear down to his thighs, a large hand grabbing your hip as you settle over him.

“I’d normally help a bit more with that, just so you know. You’ve left me a bit boneless, though.” There’s a soft crinkle of amusement in the corners of his eyes.

“That was sort of the idea.” You laugh softly at his words, before gazing down between your thighs.

His cock is twitching into the open air now, it’s tip oozing silvery fluid along the side. It’s flushed deep pink, almost red with his need. His grasp at the base of it seems almost desperate. Rising on your knees, he presses the swollen tip against your soaked cunt. Sliding it along your drenched cleft, moistening it, before pressing the tip into your twitching hole.

With an airy sigh, you lower yourself into him. The stretch of him is perfect against your gummy walls, you can feel the soft curve of his twitching head deep within you. He groans deep and long at the insertion, eyes closing and head tilting back against the pillow.

“Fuck! I knew you’d be so tight for me.” His gaze is scorching into you, the grip of his hands on your hips tight. Rising up, you slide off of his length almost to the tip. You can feel it, the blunting head twitching at the ring of your entrance, before you drop back down. The sensation leaves you breathless, frantic; you can’t help but repeat the motion.

“Just like that, yeah.” He’s groaning, thrusting his cock further into you with small swirls of his hips. He’s laying back, completely lax and nearly motionless underneath you. His gaze is heavy lidded, nearly scorching as he watches his cock slide into you.

Silver eyes sliding up your torso, he suddenly tugs at the fabric of your shirt. “Remove this for me?” He sounds almost breathless with the request.

With a whine, you halt your desperate thrusts to yank the fabric above your head. Throwing it far into the darkness of the room without a care. One hand quickly rises from gripping your hip to palm one of your breasts. Your hands glide along his abs as you return to your previous motion, the muscles there twitch and shudder with each jabbing thrust. They’re slow, hard; each one hitting you deep and leaving you gasping.

“Yeah. This is better than I imagined.” He imagined this? His filter must still be gone. It’s even more exciting to see him so out of sorts, blabbering whatever’s on his mind.

“Same. F..fuck. I’ve wanted this for so long.” You helplessly blurt it out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you’ve lost your filter too.

As you roll your hips into his, you can’t help but watch his face. There’s sweat beading along his hairline, dampening the dark strands of his bangs. He’s flushed a deep pink; ears, face, and all the way down his neck. He’s gasping, groaning; mouth open with soft pants as he watches the connection between you. You want to kiss him again, deeper this time; the slide of his tongue against your own.

Shifting from your upright position, you lean your torso down to press against his own heaving upper body. Sliding your hands up from his abs, along his firm pecs and into the long hair above his undercut. You bring him into a deep, open mouthed kiss; swirling your tongue around his own. He tastes exactly like you always imagined, deep and rich with a bitter tang of black tea. He groans into your mouth, hand sliding from your breast to push against your back; pulling you further against him. You can feel his nails digging into your skin.

This position forces you to make short rolling thrusts, the press of him is deeper and sharper against your gummy walls. Each slide jabs into your g-spot, making you see stars and rapidly approach your peak. You can practically taste it on the tip of your tongue, the feel of it approaching with a roaring buzz in the back of your head.

Breaking away from the hot press of his swirling tongue, you whine as you struggle to meet his gaze. ”I’m close.” You gasp the words against his mouth with rapid shuddery breaths.

“I am too. Fuck. S’wet.” His knees rise behind you as he delivers a volley of hard thrusts up into your gushing depths. The sound of the squelching slap of your connection makes you dizzy; your peak approaching much sharper and faster. Your rolling thrusts become frantic, aided by the hard pulling grasp at your hip. His other hand presses hard, rapid swirls into your pulsing clit; the dual stimulation sharp and devastating.

You come gasping, clawing into the skin of his shoulders. Shuddering and jerking, you can only imagine the sounds spewing from your lips. Your ears are ringing, drowning out all sound, but you can feel yourself whining and babbling nonsense into the skin of his neck. He presses deep into your shuddering, gummy walls; you can feel the sweet curve of his tip so deep you can taste it. The feel of it, twitching and spurting deep against your cervix, makes your eyes roll back into your head.

He’s shuddering and gasping his completion alongside your own, you can hear the deep baritone of his voice through the ringing of your ears. His kiss swollen lips are pressed to your neck, deep moans vibrating against the skin. His hips rise in sharp, shuddering jolts against your own as he spills into you. Two fingers continue to swirl gently at your clit, elongating your climax as your walls flutter around him.

He goes completely limp after, legs falling back against the bed and arms bouncing to his sides as if they are made of jelly. As the ringing in your ears finally disappears, you can hear his deep shuddering gasps as he attempts to catch his breath. You're not much better off, truth be told. Resting your head into the crook of his neck, you attempt to gather yourself with deep breaths.

He is still warm inside you, soft against your walls. The feel of it makes you fond, a soft fluttering sensation filling your heart.

He raises a hand to slide along the skin of your back, the glide heavy with lassitude. “Kiss me. I’m too limp to do it myself.” The words make you smile.

Raising your head, you bring him into a soft kiss. His mouth opens, tongue sliding against your own in a sweet embrace. The kiss is short, and sweet. Tired and full of satisfaction.

“Why did you wait so long to say yes?” You couldn’t help but be curious. You both have clearly wanted this for a while.

“Couldn’t before. You were my subordinate.” That makes sense. His eyes are heavy lidded and warm with affection as he meets your gaze.

He hums, stretching his legs along the comforter. “You certainly got that tension out of my back.” You laugh, not expecting him to make such a joke.

“This isn’t exactly what I meant, you know.”

“Oh this is exactly what you meant.” He smirks up at you, quirking his eyebrows at his words. He’s not completely wrong.

“Once I get some feeling in my legs, let’s take a bath, hmm? I don’t want to sleep in our mess.” He seems to have regained some of his faculties, his hand is sliding against your back with much more purpose.

“That’ll help your back too.” You smile, pressing your face back into his neck. Wiggling your torso against his, you scratch one hand into his undercut as he recovers. This earns a soft hum, his fingers sliding to scratch into your own hair. You still can’t believe that you're here, that Levi is finally within your grasp.

Later, you follow behind him, watching his back once again as he pads across the room towards the connected bathroom. He pauses briefly to gripe at the mess of the room; the spilled lotion bottle carelessly ejected from the mattress in the excitement, your clothes strewn about. You can’t help but watch his muscles flex and shift as he putters about, happy to see his shoulders relaxed and his back finally free of stiffness. You're glad he finally accepted your offer.

[msookyspooky]

Sequels Suck

Part One

word count: 3,592

You hauled your suitcase out of the car, waving goodbye to your parent. Two years went by. You were a bit of a late bloomer, going to college an entire two years after graduating Highschool but that's how long it took you to feel ready to take such a drastic step. You changed your hair and your wardrobe. You changed yourself as much as you could and yet you still had publicity.

"...Shhhiiittt." You covered your face and tightened the grip on your suitcase as you walked up the staircase. Cameras and microphones being shoved in your face. Already accepted, had meetings, knew your classes. Now, it was just moving in.

"YN! The upcoming stab movie is set to premiere, how do you feel about the acting choices?"

"No comment."

"YN, NSC News. Why did you pick Windsor College?"

"Good coriculum. Change of scenery."

"YN, do you still deny involvement in the Woodsboro Massacre?"

You tightened your mouth and opened the door, campus security holding back the small number of opportunistic paparazzi outside.

You entered the house and saw the girls all giving you looks. You saw the whispering and you felt dissapointment sink in your stomach. '...Great...It's already begun.'

You quickly got a key from the front desk and went upstairs to your new room. You practically dived in, shutting the door behind you with a shaky breath. A phone sat on the table and you sat down on a nearby bed and picked it up. Dialing a number.

"Come on...Come on, please-" You swallowed, feeling your palms sweat and your breathing shallow. Unbeknownst to you, someone rounded the corner from the bathroom raising her brows at you.

You closed your eyes, hearing his voicemail. Once the beep sounded, you just blurted it out. "Henry, it's YN. I just wanted to call. I was having an anxiety attack again and um...I forgot the time difference." You hung up, feeling like the walls were closing in.

The young woman behind you came up to you, startling you as she brought her hand up in a calming gesture. "Hey there, easy. Are you okay?"

You shook your head, feeling your throat burn as she knelt down infront of you on the bed. "Hey, look at me...Breathe in..." You followed her. "...Breathe out..." You released a shaky jagged breath. She had you repeat it multiple times until you had semi normal breaths.

She smiled at you. "See? Better?"

You nodded and looked down. "I am so sorry...I think this is my room? I just had to get out of the halls."

She stood back up. "Hey, it's all good. What's your number, honey?"

You showed her the key and she smiled. "Welp, that's the one. Look's like we're roomies." She extended her hand to you. "Halie McDaniel. Psychology Major."

You smiled and gingerly exchanged the handshake. "YN. Criminology Major...Just getting the basic sciences and psychology out of the way mostly."

She grinned and let go of your hand. "Hey, that is such a neat major! I always was morbidly curious what makes those crazies just hack up people one day... Don't tell anyone I used the term crazy though. Not a good term in the community with clients, ya know." She talked with her hands and had a very fun high energy about her. She was an extremely pretty girl that you could tell was the life of the party.

She scrunched her brows with her smile still in place. "...Oh...I know you. You're the girl from Woodsboro."

You frowned and rubbed your arm. "Yeeeaahh...I'm sorry you got shacked up with me."

She scoffed with an outrageous expression. "What? Why?"

"Because there's a lot of controversy around me. Camera's seem to go wherever I do."

She laughed and waved her well manicured hand dismissively. "Please. It's a campus. There's always someone with a camera all up in your face. Especially during Zeta raves."

"So...It doesn't bother you?"

She shrugged. "I mean...I am a bit curious about it. No offense but what's the deal with it all?"

"Okay, fair enough....Let's see...I was best friends with 2 victim's, one of the other victim was my boyfriend. I was friends with the killer's too. The killer's had an...Obsession with me. I was pretty much held hostage and forced to 'help'. I prevented them from being killed because I thought I cared about them and...It uh...It got my other friends killed." She gave you a sad look, hand to her heart as you continued. "Since I was forced to help and the killers both had crushes on me...Everyone swore I was involved. But I swear to you; I didn't pick up a weapon not once only to defend myself and I definitely did not plan a single thing that happened."

She smacked her leg and brought her hand back up in a half shrug. "Well, that clears it up! You had a case of Stockholm Syndrome from two narcissistic assholes manipulating you."

You slumped over, elbows on your knees. "I've been going to a therapist regularly. I started once I moved from Woodsboro. He says I have survivors guilt and developed PTSD. I can't hear screams or see knives out of nowhere without going into a full panic attack...I hate it. It's gotten better but I don't know how much. I isolated myself as soon as I graduated Highschool. "

She nodded and sat down in a round, pink wicker chair across from you. "That's common. Especially with what you went through...I hope this isn't coming on too strong and I know I'm still a student bbbuuutt...If you can't get ahold of your therapist; I might be able to pick your brain." She gave a dramatic shrug and you smiled at her.

"That would be great. Thanks."

She got back up and had her hands on her hips. "There's a few rules here. 1. Do not use my things without asking. Not a freakin tissue or a hairpin. If you use my body wash; we're fighting. That shits expensive, okay? It's not hard to ask people. "

You smiled. "That's cool. I have my own brand so we'll both be fighting. Mind you, I fist fought two crazy guys for my life all in one night."

She snorted. "I grew up with older brothers. 3 of them."

"Fair." You chuckled, folding your arms and feeling better with her as your roommate.

"Two;" She held up a peace sign. "If you're gonna have a hook up in here; let me know before hand. If I get woken up by you getting nasty with some frat boy named Brad I'm whipping both your asses out that door."

"Oh, I doubt that. I haven't dated since my boyfriend died. No hook ups either. "

She cringed. "...Oh...Well-"

You held up a hand. "It's okay, it's an understandable rule. As long as you do the same for me. "

"Cool. So, we're on the same page here?"

You stood up and nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Is there a number 3?"

She snapped her finger at the air. "Damn! I knew I forgot one. If we go to a party together; you don't bail on me, alright?"

You grinned at that. "I couldn't agree more...I doubt I'll party too much."

"What? Girl, you are in a college dorm a long ways away from any supervision... You're letting loose."

You headed to the door. "We'll see...Thanks a lot Halie. I think I'm gonna walk around campus to get a feel. I gotta face those camera's eventually."

She held up a finger and ran to the bathroom. "Hold on! I'm coming! Let me get myself in order. You need someone to show you this place. Especially before the sororities flock to you."

"Sororities? Their's more than Zeta whatever?"

She gave you a mocking sad face. "Oh honey...I have so much to teach you." She went to the bathroom and raised her voice to talk to you. "You are lucky you got me as a roomate! You know that?"

"Yeah, I'd say so!" You chuckled and waited at the doorway. She came out, a pull over purple sweater on with a mini skirt. It pained your heart as you remembered how Tatum dressed and realized how much Tatum and Halie would get along or Sidney for that matter. You shook the thought away as you both stepped out into the world.

You both walked down the stairs as you whispered to her. "Get ready. These media types are ruthless."

"Bring it on. What's some Howard Stern wanna be gonna do? Tell me I'm fat?" She mumbled back with a smirk.

"Uh, one did and got punched in the face...Not my proudest moment but not my worst either." You mumbled and she snickered.

The minute you opened the doors, camera's and microphones were shoved in your face. Shouting over each other and asking questions that jarred you at first. Now? You were used to it. Halie on the other hand blinked repeatedly in surprise as you grabbed her hand to lead her down the stairs outside.

You turned around once on the grass. "Listen, I will answer all questions at the mess hall at 2:30."

The reporters looked around each other before leaving. You mumbled to Halie who laughed. "I'm not...Have fun, vultures."

Halie raised a brow at you. "Christ, how the hell can you stand that everywhere you go?"

You walked with her on the sidewalk. "Oh, it's usually not this bad. They're just trying to get publicity with that stab movie coming out."

"Oh yeah, that's right. What's it like having a movie made about you?"

You gave her a serious expression. "Not nearly as fun as you think..."

You trailed off as you heard someone nearby. "You are completely out of your mind! Evil Dead one was better than evil dead 2 by a landslide!"

You whipped your head around, eyes wide as you saw a face you didn't think you would ever see again. He seemed to notice you at the same time as he stopped talking to the guy on the bench and slowly looked up at you. You both stared a long moment.

"...Ray?...Randy Meeks?" You slowly grinned, a level of happiness at seeing a familiar face you hadn't felt in so long.

His breath caught before he released a surprised chuckle and came towards you arms outstretched. "In the flesh...YN, what the hell are you doing here?"

He stood a foot from you and Halie. You wanted to wrap him in a hug but stopped yourself. The memory of your goodbye crinkling your heart up like some used wrapper. It still hurt.

He lost his smile when he saw you frown. "I...I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't know you went here. I swear, I didn't-"

He shrugged. "Hey, it's a free Country. You can go wherever you want."

You sighed as Halie darted her eyes between you two. "Uh, this is my Roomate; Halie McDaniel's."

Hal waved. "Hi."

Randy nodded, "Yeah, we had a class last year. Professor Green?"

"Oh yeah, that's right! God, what a nut." They both laughed as you stood there awkwardly.

Randy turned back to you, folding his arms. He looked so grown up compared to when you last saw him. He seemed taller to you, his wardrobe was more grown as well and he had a goatee that was popular trend at the moment. "So, why didn't I see you here last year?"

"Uh...I just didn't know what I wanted to do."

He raised a brow. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Don't freak out."

He tilted his head with both brows raised at you. "YN, it's me. Do I look like I freak out easily?"

"Okay, Criminology."

His eyes widened a fraction and he parted his lips. "Oh."

You cringed. "I know, I know. I just...After what happened, if I can prevent it by seeing the warning signs; I want to."

He nodded. You could tell by his reaction he wanted to forget it ever happened. You wish you had that level of willful ignorance but you couldn't. He muttered. "No, no that's...It's very you."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not."

Randy chewed on his inner cheek in thought and looked at Halie. "Uh, can we have a moment?"

Halie raised a brow with a smirk. You raised your brows at her at whatever that smirk meant. "Sure. I'll meet you right here YN."

"You sure? We literally just made the rule-"

She held up a hand with a smile. "As the one that made them; I will make an exemption this once." She gave an annoyed expression at the guy Randy was talking to walking up to her. "Don't worry, I can keep you company." She huffed. "Uh, Mickey...How do I put this nicely?...I'd rather keep company with a rapid animal with rabies."

Randy walked with you as she gave you a thumbs up and you gave her a bewildered expression. Randy spoke up first as you passed other students walking. "So, Criminology huh?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to know what went wrong, ya know?"

"Pft. Birth. That's what went wrong." He turned to you with a distant look. "Yn...I uh

...We didn't leave on very good terms."

"You blamed me for Sidney's death and told me you didn't want to see me again...So, no. We didn't."

He rubbed his arm and tapped his foot with a heavy sigh. "I know...Look, I'm sorry. That was fucked up of me."

You shrugged with a sad expression. "Was it wrong though? I was-"

He looked at you and cut you off. "No, you weren't!...I was just a hurt, dumbass kid that was trying to coup. You were in a shitty, fucked up situation and Billy and Stu twisted your arm behind your back practically like the sick freaks they were." He sighed. "It's in the past. It's been two years. You and me going to the same college across the Country? If that isn't some sign from some higher power to get over it then I don't know what is!"

You smiled softly. "So...You aren't angry at me like you were?"

He shook his head with a smile. "No. I'll always be sad about Sid but I don't blame you at all. I really am sorry for being such a jerk....Are you mad at me?"

You smirked, putting a hand over your mouth and chin to hide it as you spoke. "...I don't know. That was fucked up of you to say."

He frowned deeply and nodded. "I know, I'm sorry."

"...And you were a jerk."

"I know, I know."

"...And you owe me, I mean seriously-"

"I know! Okay? I-" He paused mid rant as he saw the mirth in your eyes and your lip curling under your hand. He grinned at you and shoved you lightly. "YN, real mature. "

You released laughter you hadn't let out in awhile as he hung his head and laughed too. "Sorry, just seeing how much I could milk out that apology. You're still so easy."

He scoffed. "Hey, I am a man now; okay? More ways than one." He clicked his tongue "Not to brag."

You rolled your eyes before giving a dramatic gasp. "Oh my god; you finally got laid? Quick! I need to go tell those news reporters! The world has to know Randy Meeks isn't a virgin!"

He shushed you but the smirk pulled at his mouth. "Shhhh!...Shut up! Ya know what? Nevermind. I don't care what the Universe is saying. You're too much of an ass to include back in my life again."

You smiled at him a moment before it came out. "...I missed this. I really did."

He gave a soft smile as well, blue eyes staring at you warmly. "Yeah, I did too. I just feel like we wasted two years letting a good friendship go for nothing...."

"Never too late." You gave him a look, stopping in the middle of the walk way. Stretching out your arms and he rolled his eyes. "Fiinnnee...Don't let my guy friends see...Or the ladies for that matter."

You hugged him closing your eyes a moment as you muttered. "Please. If anything, I'm building your school cred here."

He chuckled at that, hugging you and patting your back before you seperated. You saw him rub the back of his neck with a smile. "You uh...You changed. I'm glad you said my name first because I almost didn't recognize you."

You looked down at yourself. "Yeah, I grew up. And I wanted to seperate from my old image as much as possible...Media."

He nodded in understanding. "Oh yeah. They swarmed me the other day." He did his most dorky voice impersonation. "M-Mr. Meeks is it true you got shot right through the heart and lived?" He gave you a deadpan expression and showed the wound on his right upper part of his chest.

"Damn, it really did go right through you huh?"

He put his shirt back in place. "Eh, it got lodged there actually. They didn't even remove it. No harm to keep a souvenir. It's a good conversation starter at airport security."

He barely moved your shirt to reveal the scar of tissue they sewed back together from the bullet skimming you.

Randy hissed. "Youch. Does it give you trouble?"

You nodded. "It did. Physical therapy and a brace later and I'm doing okay. It ripped the tissue though so I still get pain if I raise my arm up too hard or fast or high. She picked a hell of a place to shoot."

"Well, time and panic-"

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't a good time to make choices."

You changed the subject and stretched your arms out in his direction with a laugh. "And look at you! No khaki's? No polo shirt? No old sneakers?"

He laughed with a faint tint to his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah. I grew up too."

"Seriously, you went from the geeky kid at the video store to a full grown man. Like, I seriously can't wrap my mind around it!" You mumbled. You saw the blush on his face and cringed. "Sorry, is that too forward? My social skills have been shit the last year or two of hermit life."

He looked to the ground with a huge grin, hand in his leather jacket pocket as he raised his brows. "No....No, not at all."

You felt your own cheeks warm in embarrassment but he looked back up at you with a smirk. "It's...I'm glad you're here. Maybe we can get back to how things used to be?"

"With everything that happened and us going from high school to college? Doubt it. But we can definitely try to have a friendship again. A new one."

He smiled warmly at you. "I'd like that."

You felt an arm wrap around you to see Halie with 'get me the fuck out of here' eyes darting to you. "I am so sorry to interrupt this reunion but if you ever leave me alone with that creature again; I'll kill you."

Mickey stretched out his arms. "Oh, come on! A date; one!" He tilted his head with a smirk. "You won't regret it..." He sang out in a cheeky tone.

Randy laughed and mumbled to you both. "I'll distract him while you make an escape. Talk to you later, YN?"

He smiled. "Hell yeah. See you later!" You waved with a giddiness that you hadn't felt since you were at Woodsboro. He gave you a goofy grin and saluted before yelling at Mickey. "Hey, Mick. I wasn't done...Evil dead 2 was HORSE SHIT."

Mickey instantly stopped pursuing Halie as he turned around to Randy. "Ooh my god, you are SO fucked in the head!"

Halie and you laughed before running down the sidewalk. Halie gave you a smug look. You raised your brows. "What?"

"Raaannndddyyy? Old fling?"

You scoffed with a bewildered expression. "WHAT? Oh my god, he's an old friend from Woodsboro. He was actually one of the survivors."

She huffed in amusement. "Could've fooled me. That boy had eyes for you."

"What? Nnnoooo."

"You are in denial, ma'me. He had heart eyes for you. That guy heard wedding bells in his head the minute he saw you." She gave a teasing tone and you batted her hand away as she pointed at you with a grin. You blushed and rolled your eyes. "No, it's not like that. He's just a good friend! I swear!"

"Mm-hm." She walked ahead of you, a hand going over her brow as she pushed her tongue in her cheek to prevent a coy smile from pulling at her lips. You followed after her, already feeling at home for the first time in two years.

However, something felt off. That feeling someone was watching you...You swore you saw someone staring at you. It was that hair standing up on the back of your neck feeling as you saw someone out of the corner of your eye. Tall and blonde. But when you looked around yourself; you saw no one. You kept walking with Halie, convincing yourself it was just your nerves working against you.

[l0vergirlwrites]

premiere anxiety ; tom holland

warnings: mentions of anxiety (very light though)

"do you have any gum on you?"

turning your head to tom who sat beside you in the busy limo, you gave him a slightly annoyed glance as you reached into your clutch to pull out a stick of his favourite peppermint gum, the shiny blue wrapping flashing into tom's eyes.

"thank you, darling" he thanked, smiling when you handed it over to him, smiling as he placed it into his mouth, his jawline defining as he chewed on it.

you both were on the way to the premier for spider-man: no way home & to say you were nervous was an understatement. after a few years of keeping your relationship private (but not secret), you were finally attending a red carpet event by his side to celebrate the achievements of his final movie of the spider-man trilogy.

with the press & almost every media platform, not to mention the fans, breathing down each of your necks about relationship details, you were afraid you would crack under the pressure.

"i think i might throw up" you whispered to tom after hearing his publicist announce that you were five minutes away from the premiere venue, meaning that flashes of light, screaming fans, yells of paparazzi, chaos &--

tom placed his hand on your knee to keep it from bouncing, squeezing it so you would look at him instead of your heels. moving your eyes to his face, you started to relax but your anxious thoughts didn't diminish.

"you're not gonna throw up, y/n/n" tom assured you, moving his hand from your knee to hold one of your slightly shaky hands.

"i know, i just..."

"... can't stop spinning, right?" tom knew you like the back of his hand.

nodding at his words, tom gave you a loving smile & placed his free hand against your cheek, careful not to ruin the makeup you & zendaya did back at the hotel.

"i know tonight should be more stressful for you than me since it is your movie & your special night... but I'm still anxious about all the things that could go wrong," you explained to him, seeing him nod at you understandingly & look at you with such care.

"i don't want to ruin tonight for you because of my anxiety" you admitted, tom's thoughtful smile faltering at your admission.

brushing his thumb against your cheek, tom tutted at your words in disagreement.

"there's no way that you'd ruin tonight, love. it means the world that you're here with me... i don't want anyone here but you" he confessed, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile creeping through your anxious state.

pulling your hand to be put above his heart, you felt tom's heart beating rapidly beneath his prada suit.

"you wanna know how i get through these premieres & press events?" he asked you, your hand still resting above his heart.

"i think of you" he whispered, knowing it'd be cheesy to say, but nonetheless true.

with your cheeks heating up at his statement, you smiled brightly & felt yourself melt in front of tom then & there.

"so, when you're on the carpet... just think of me & it'll go by fast, I promise"

smiling full of love at the sentiment, you leaned closer to tom & couldn't stop yourself from kissing him. his right hand cupped your cheek & yours rested at the base of his neck, feeling over the soft material of his suit. his left hand held your waist for balance, the material of your silky spiderwebbed-themed dress under his fingertips made him smile into you, chuckling as his nose brushed yours. you were able to taste his peppermint gum on his lips as you kissed him slowly, savouring the moment.

pulling away for a breath, your lips parted. "i'm so proud of you, tommy. so incredibly proud" you mumbled to him, eyes opening to see him still smiling down at you.

the snap of a camera was heard in the background, knowing it was coming from harry & his need to capture sweet moments between his brother & his girlfriend.

"i couldn't do what i do without you, y/n" he praised, kissing you again without thinking about how you'd have to fix your lipstick after.

"well guys," harry said, slightly ruining the moment. "we're here! so fix your lipstick"

as you reapplied your lipstick & wiped off any excess that was on toms lips, he stopped & turned away from the door handle. "so, what are you going to do on the carpet?" he asked.

"think of you" smiling at your response, tom kissed your forehead, nothing but love flowing through his veins.

"let's go do this, movie star" you told him, holding his hand while his other grasped onto the door handle.

smiling back at you one last time, tom took in the moment.

"let's go"

i really hope this wasn't bad lol

[its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons]

pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Mammon x Fem!Reader, Leviathan x Fem!Reader

warnings: tw abandonment (but it turns out okay, I promise), mentions of the act of birthing,

A/N: you came to the right place! as the second oldest of six children, I have some experience when it comes to pregnancy:) I hope you don't mind, nonny, but I'm gonna split this up into a few parts so I can do the dateables as well!

Lucifer

The moment you had shyly produced the positive pregnancy test from the pocket of your hoodie, it felt like Lucifer had entered into a fever dream filled with nursery designs, baby names, the expenses that pile up before the baby even arrives, researching human pregnancy, keeping you out of harm's way and healthy and happy...

So when you first stagger out of bed and rush to his bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth and one shaky hand on your slightly swollen tummy, Lucifer isn't surprised

He is very concerned, however. You had been so nervous to tell him of your pregnancy, you waited until the last moment before your bump was noticeable to tell him

That meant you had been suffering from all of these pregnancy side effects before he'd permanently moved you to sleep in his room

Lucifer hoists himself out of bed and pads into the bathroom, gathering up your hair, if any, into his fist and pulling your hunched form between his legs for support

You hate this feeling with a passion; throbbing stomach and a lump in your throat with little to no vertigo and tears rolling down your face as you try and catch your breath

You tell him it hurts, you ask him if he can take the pain away as your head rests on his chest, lashes fluttering with wooziness

Lightheadedness was unbearably common; you would suddenly grip his sleeve and he could watch the color drain from your face and your knees get shaky, body beginning to sway

He always catches you though, finding a place for you to sit or lie down and gather yourself

Tummy rubs become more common; the feeling of his hands against your bare tummy, spreading their warmth and nullifying the ache, allowing you to relax

He's extremely attentive as well and can tell whenever you need something

Water? Here's a cup sweetheart, remember, you're hydrating and eating for two people!

Craving something? Chocolate? Fried pickles? Chips of some kind? sweets? He's stockpiled anything you could want and locked it away just for you.

I feel like Lucifer would want your baby to be a little girl. A little princess he can carry on his shoulders and spoil with his love and gifts.

Satan ruined him for having another baby boy, but if that's how the cards fall, he certainly wouldn't mind. Unfortunately, he'd be constantly walking on eggshells, afraid he'll make your little boy into another rebellious child

That's the last thing he wants

Lucifer does his best to keep his kid away from Satan and Belphie and out of the 'Formerly Anti-Lucifer League', but sometimes you're taking a nap or out shopping with Asmodeus, and Satan and his brothers manage to coerce the little one into their shenanigans

One thing is for sure though, even if Lucifer didn't want any kids and the creation of one was unplanned, he would never ever turn you away

He's very responsible and does anything in his power to make the pregnancy as easy and happy as possible

On the day you are to give birth, he's a mess

He has already sweat through 3 shirts by the time the IV has been secured to your hand

Everything he says doesn't come without a stutter

He's squeezing your hand and kissing your hair during labor, trying to distract you from the burn between your legs as much as he can

You probably need extra stitches from baby's horns ngl

Definitely cries before the baby is even put in your arms

Refuses to let his brothers come and see you, "They can wait until we go home."

Lucifer is Smitten™

He smooches the tiredness under your eyes and tells you to get some rest

Surprisingly, he enjoys a lot of the names from the human world you discuss and will most likely pick one of those

But if it's a girl, her name is Lilith. I'm sorry MC, your input is invalid at this time

You don't regret 'final day in the devildom sex' at all when you get to witness the Avatar of Pride reduced to tears when the nurse puts the child in his arms

P-P-Pregnant? MC, ya better be jokin'...

Mammon

You weren't, judging by the pregnancy test(s) clutched in your fist

He's not mad at you, he's not upset, (in fact, he's the happiest he's ever been), he just scared

Broken Condom Victim™

He loved you just a bit too hard last week...

but let's be real here, HIS MC, carrying HIS baby?

That's like the highest level of ownership on his lovely human you could get! Levi, Asmo, Beel, Lucifer, everyone would be SOOOO JEALOUS!!!

AND

He gets to have a little one running around again!

You saw how sweet he was to babified Satan in the obey me anime premier! He LOVES little kids and nothing would make him happier than someone to play with (besides MC of course) that wouldn't make fun of him for messing up and being silly!

AND

You're so pretty!!

I mean, ya were always pretty, but somethin' about ya is different and yer even more beautiful than before somehow!

Mammon said, his entire face the shade of a pomegranate

Pregnancy glow is REAL

Asmo agrees, after stealing you away from an extremely overprotective mammon and hiding in the attic to chat without disturbance (mammon)

But as much as YOU know he would be the BEST father, comments from his brothers continue to drag him down and the evenings he cried into your shoulder became more and more frequent as your pregnancy progresses

Mammon, as we all know, is, in fact, a tiddy man

He likes to touch and squeeze them, and just gently hold them while cuddling or even browsing in a store, he'd just come up behind you and touch your boobs

(also, mammon likes all sizes, so if you have next to no tiddy like me, you'll be at his mercy as well. those with the large honkers, however, watch yourself)

Now that there's a miracle growing in your tummy, other parts of your body are preparing for its arrival, including your chest

Swelling, swelling, soreness, growing and darkening of the nipples, and swelling make it so Mammon can no longer touch your pretty tiddies :(((

(grammarly didn't like that word)

On the day mammon snack size was to be born, mammon is silent but extremely fidgety

It was early in the morning when you'd shaken him awake like, "mammoney, I'm going into labor" and he was out of bed and out the door with your luggage before you finished blinking

After grabbing your DDD's and you, he carries you down to the car (what dysfunctional family doesn't have a car? a nice one (Mercedes, Audi, you get the idea) for lucifer and a Volkswagon bus or something for his siblings to share) and drives quickly, but very carefully drives to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way.

He covers your eyes when they put the IV in, just in case you're squeamish, and rubs your arms as the drugs begin to take effect and there's a little fear in your eyes at the thought of pushing an entire human/demon being out of your coochie

He assures you and never lets go of your hand no matter how long you're in labor

When it's all over with and you are resting in your hospital bed waiting for the doctors to finish the Apgar tests and give you your baby

Mammon is speechless as the nurse places the baby in your arms

That's HIS KID!!

Immediately starts crying

The little horns poking out of the blanket? Those look just like his!!

Judging by the bit of hair on it's head, it looks like the baby will have hair like yours

If it's a baby boy, he thinks it should be named "Mammon II" but you just giggle and remind him of the deal he made with lucifer long ago, that his first born child, no matter the gender, had to have 'Lucifer' somewhere in their name

Human names are dumb, except for yours of course, so he searches for suitable demon names

The last thing he wants is a kid named Lucifer, so that will be the kid's middle name

He really regrets his past decisions now

Leviathan

"Levi?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm pregnant."

*leviathan has been KO'd*

No joke, this man is literally floored and didn't wake up for a while and you were afraid you had just slain the fucking Lord of Shadows

Some Henry you were

You had to call Lucifer in to wake him up because he was still flat on the floor a half and hour later

Mammon is more that happy to tip a bucket of ice water on the face of the son of a bitch that impregnated HIS MC

Levi wakes up and pounces on you, gripping you tightly by the arms

"You're k-kidding r-right?"

Him? A father?

Uhhhhhhh

Unfortunately, Leviathan.exe has stopped working, try again in two thousand years

I hate to say this, but he definitely detaches himself for a while until his brothers, especially Asmodeus, literally beat him into shape

He comes back to you, a little bruised and sobbing, but not from the beating he just received

He's so sorry he neglected you! He's such a horrible demon, undeserving of your welcoming nature

He's gonna be the worst dad, and he's not good enough for you, and his kid will hate him just like everyone else does, he doesn't deserve you, he's so sorry for making you suffer the side effects and feel all alone,

Sir, I-

FALSE

It's your turn to shake some sense into him, reminding him that he would be the. best. dad!!

Not to mention the fact that you were just happy he realized his mistakes and came back to you

He begs you to sleep in his bed tub with him for security, and you have to admit his tail is very comforting

Levi does extensive research on human pregnancy and now at the dinner table, instead of talking about the latest slice of life anime he'd been watching, he's just spouting random pregnancy facts and you're laughing so hard it brings you to tears

When the weird dreams and vivid nightmares happen, Levi is right behind you, rubbing your swollen tummy, and letting you talk about them

A lot of them were about him and about your future child

Most of them were about how they got hurt in some way, either that or YOU got hurt and the baby died

These, more often than not, brought you to tears and stress you out, but Levi is right there, okay? Nothing can hurt you, nor would he let anything happen to you on his watch

Learns how to massage you (safely) to reduce stress

Definitely talks to the baby a lot

Levi begged you to be induced so the birth was safe and not a sudden occasion and you agree

On the day the doctor recommended, you arrived at the hospital and got down to business

Levi didn't really want to be in the room with you, but he knew he had to for your sake and he'd played a few birth simulators from both perspectives and you really needed him

Kinda sits there awkwardly comforting you and encouraging you, holding your hand and caressing your cheeks, a bit flushed from exertion and tears

Listen

If the baby is a boy, his name will be Henry and that's final

If it's a girl, he doesn't really care, as long as you don't name her 'mammonia' or something dumb like that

definitely crashes your hospital bed to snuggle until the baby is ready

cries when the baby wraps its extremely small digits around one of his own

also at the little horns protruding from its head

and the tuft of purple in its head

Also Smitten™

He's so excited to get home and show off his beautiful baby to his brothers and then formulate a plan to raise the kid to live and breathe TSL just like his daddy <3

--

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[kienava]

“I broke my promise.”

The fire crackles and pops, and Blake wonders if it’s eaten her whisper.

There’s a long moment where all she hears is the fire smacking its lips and waves lapping up onto the beach to claim the scraps of her admission.

Beside her, the sand shifts. Yang rolls onto her side and Blake can feel wide, patient eyes watching her, but she can’t look.

So she stays fixed on the ocean - Is it an ocean? Is it even real? - as it recedes, retreats.

“Blake,” Yang says. She’s waiting for more, and the only reason Blake can bring herself to say it is because she’s tired of making Yang wait for her.

“When you... when she made you fall,” Blake explains. She isn’t sure why she refuses to say Neo’s name. Part of her believes it’s because names have power and she doesn’t want to relinquish an ounce more to Neo - but then she remembers another name she wouldn’t dare to speak, and she never felt power in those silences.

Yang sits up, moving so that only a sliver of firelight separates their shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself for that. Blake, even if I could barely see it, I know you did everything you could to try and save me.”

Blake takes in a shaky breath. “That’s not what I mean.”

“It’s not?”

“Of course I feel terrible that I couldn’t save you, but something else happened. After you were gone.”

Because Yang is wonderful and infuriating in the space of a blink, she waits. She’d give Blake a universe’s worth of space, and then she’d make a ridiculous joke about it - Get it? Space?

Collapsing in Yang’s arms on a beach sounds a lot like something Blake would have dreamt about in her bunk back at Beacon, a comforting, peaceful image that could lull her to sleep with the wispy promise to bring such a fantastical future one night closer. It’s all Blake wants to do, let herself be held, but she can’t. Not when her entire being is weighed down by the blunt awareness of what she almost did.

Blake gives herself one breath, one last cycle of the waves before she says something that she swears will make Yang hate her.

She promised to stay by Yang’s side no matter what - but she never asked Yang to make the same vow. She won’t blame her if she leaves.

The ocean crawls back, allowing itself one glittering moment to kiss the shore, and then it leaves again. That’s just the way it is. Blake thinks about how people are mostly water, how they ebb and flow, vanish into the sky and into the ground. How they help things grow.

Blake means to whisper, but it comes out all at once, so loud the fire can’t swallow it up. “I tried to kill her.”

Yang doesn’t move. She doesn’t freeze, and she doesn’t gasp in shock.

And Blake has no idea what that means.

Then, Blake feels a gentle, cool touch settle on her shoulder. She’s wrapped up in herself, knees pulled into her chest, withdrawn, and she doesn’t deserve to be pulled out of it.

Again, Yang says nothing, just offers that one wistful smile. Back when she was trying to understand why that smile broke her heart, Blake used to think that it looked a little bit sad, but now she understands. Now she knows what Yang means to her, and her heart is breaking all over again. She’s pretty sure she’s set a record for how many times that can happen inside of three days.

“What promise?” Yang asks. There’s no judgment in her expression, only a quiet desire to understand. Another small heartbreak.

“Adam,” Blake says, shunting the name off as quickly as she can, whittling it from her tongue. They’d only talked about it once, and Yang had been resolute. Blake, not so much. She might be even less convinced now, in the wake of the past few hours. “Maybe we had no choice against him, but I promised myself I would never do something like that again. Then when I thought you were... I thought she had...”

Blake remembers the mecha under the bridge, flashes of red at Beacon and at the waterfall. It hurt more each time, that premier ache blossoming into a cellular agony. Hours later, it’s still wracking her nerves. To think about it is to relive it.

Yang speaks, cool aloe on a blistered sunburn. “What stopped you? With Neo?”

“Weiss was in trouble. I had to choose. But if I hadn’t had that choice I don’t know what I--”

“Okay. Am I gonna have to stage another intervention?”

Blake snaps to look at her. “What?”

“Remember when you didn’t sleep for, like, a week?”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

Yang turns and crosses her legs, facing Blake just as she had years before, sitting on a desk at the front of a lecture hall. “Sounds like you’re beating yourself up over something that didn’t even happen.”

Blake faces her, because that’s what you do when you’re suddenly arguing with someone who doesn’t hate you as much as they should. “Yang, I tried to kill her. I wanted to.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to kill Ozpin? Or Raven?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Why?”

“You never had a sword pointed at their necks!”

Yang shrugs. “I don’t fight with a sword.”

“Why don’t you hate me?!” Blake shouts and almost falls back, startled by her own voice.

Now, finally, Yang looks like she’s been stung - it’s for all the wrong reasons, and Blake’s stomach twists. She curls into herself again, burying her face behind her knees and locking her hands behind her own neck.

“I could never hate you, Blake.”

There’s so much hurt in her voice, a deep crack that reminds Blake of the first time she saw Yang cry.

She should apologize, but she can’t undo what she’s said. She can’t take back any of how she felt after watching Yang plummet into oblivion.

Before she can decide on any particular course of inaction, she’s being pulled out of her miserable little cube, and she can’t stop herself from falling into Yang’s open arms.

Earlier, when she saw Yang alive, the guilt burned away long enough for Blake to take after the waves kissing the shoreline.

All she can think now, wrapped in Yang’s arms, is that she doesn’t deserve it.

It would have been easier, maybe, if Yang hated her enough to walk away. Blake can’t very well walk away from herself. Her semblance can leave endless copies of her behind, but she’s always going to be stuck with the original. In moments like this, it feels like a fitting punishment.

With Yang holding on to her so tightly, Blake feels like a tormented copy, shattering endlessly, never escaping. She knows it’s a defense mechanism, but that doesn’t mean she knows how to stop it from coming on. Her self is as real an enemy as another.

Foolishly, she hopes that Yang is going to kiss her again when the embrace starts to break. Instead, Yang rests her forehead on Blake’s, and it’s another familiar reassurance that Blake doesn’t know how to accept.

“If you feel like you broke a promise to yourself, there’s only one person who can forgive you,” Yang says, her words smoldering like embers. Blake feels their warmth in her skin.

Blake is crying - she’s been crying, probably the whole time since Yang fell - but now Yang is here to catch the tears.

She’s right, Blake knows.

It’s hard to break old habits, and perhaps even harder to form new ones, and no one can do any of it for her. But Yang believes, and she remembers all the times Blake proved that she had compassion to spare. Why shouldn’t she offer some to herself? In Yang’s arms, it’s a little bit easier for Blake to believe that she deserves it.

[cross-posted on AO3]

***