#in my brain the thing happens at the end of the first video so the first time you see lloyd again is he and raven's scene

[lorneytunes]

Beginner Mindset

Recently while doing a tarot reading for myself about my shifting journey, I drew a card that said I needed to "embrace a beginner mindset". I've been thinking a lot about what that means, and as a results I've begun the process of starting my shifting journey from scratch. Coincidentally, I’ve also seen a lot of posts from others about going back to that baby shifter feeling, when it's all about being IN your DR not GETTING TO your DR; thinking about the end result, not the way of getting there.

In that vein, today I saw a YouTube video about training your brain to lucid dream after years of failure, and re-capturing the feeling of excitement around it. I’ve decided I'm going to apply the techniques outlined there to shifting.

These were the main points:

List out all the things you're excited to do in a lucid dream and highlight your top three

Think throughout the day, “This is a dream” and then imagine if this was a dream, what you would do to take control and achieve one of your top three things.

Keep lucid dreaming at the forefront of your mind throughout the day

There were other points too, but these are the ones I think are most applicable to shifting. So from now on I'm going to focus on one DR, and start keeping that at the front of my mind and think about all the things I'm excited to do while shifting there.

I’ve already started by writing the list of 20 things and highlighted my top three (let me know if you want to see a follow-up post with my list). From here, throughout the day, rather than tell myself I’m dreaming, I’m going to go, “Oh, I’ve shifted!” and then imagine that instead of being wherever I am, that I’m currently experiencing something from that list. Preferably the top three, but it was very hard to pick just three things so I don’t see why I can’t expand it to more. The idea was to increase my desire to go to/excitement over that DR anyway, and that has definitely happened.

I’ve been thinking for a while that the reason some people might be having more success than me, is that for a very long time now I’ve found it really hard to daydream. I don’t know why, given I used to do it every night to help me sleep, but for years now it’s like I keep stopping myself, like it's silly or something. Being a writer I often get too caught up in what’s realistic or a good plot/scene rather than just enjoying the process, so I can absolutely see how I could get in my own way like that.

My hope is that giving myself these parameters like, “Imagine you’re actually having lunch in [x] right now!” or “Imagine what it would be like to learn [y]!” will help make daydreaming more achievable. Rather than imagining bigger stories, I’m just living through those tiny everyday moments. And from what I’ve heard from some of the bigger experienced shifters, imagining those everyday moments can really help your subconscious start to see your DR as a real place rather than a fantasy.

At the very least I’m going to try and do it every day for a week. Given I find it really hard to build habits, I’m not expecting to remember to do this very often in the first few days, so I’ll definitely be extending the experiment to up to three weeks if necessary.

Anyway, thanks for reading my first post and another Big Brave Step for me into the shifting community after two years of mostly lurking. Please send love and encouragement so I can do more of these. I'd definitely be down to blog how the experiment goes from day to day, or answer asks about my DRs (I have so many 😅).

[joelletwo]

[The Final sugi dying kitten betrayal -> utsuro-gin fight -> sakura boat imagination -> completely tonally consistent with these ginpachi-sensei closer]

now listen. u know i would rather die than post five nearly-uninterrupted minutes of a fight scene. so take that into consideration.

[lucifer-kane]

I understand why The Rescue of Jill and Marjolein was the way it was but the one thing I still wished was that something did happen so Lloyd's soul would have been pulled from that puppet body and back to his own. The setup at the beginning had me ready for something like that to happen. I know the logistics would have been hellish since Paul plays both Raven and Lloyd, which is why it was the way it was, but oh my god the idea in my brain of what could have been is sooooo massive (articulating it is harder though)

The idea of Lloyd being back in a human body having to navigate the hell that is the sensory input, then the sensory input of the Hellscape itself. Of Lloyd coming into the scene looking battered and beaten by his own body alone because everything is just so much that everything is taking longer than it should. But the man he loves, the people he calls family, need help and damn him, he's going to help. There's not a lot of help to bring, but he does all he can.

[spectralpooch]

if i ever like ur textpost and dont reply theres a good chance its bc i tried to reply but tumblr ate it and im too nervous about it sending multiple times to try again

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

 Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors. 

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?” 

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago. 

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off. 

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.” 

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there. 

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.” 

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him. 

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused. 

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief. 

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out? 

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least. 

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are. 

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off. 

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.” 

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too. 

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream. 

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him? 

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess. 

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone. 

Oh he’s so fucked. 

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.” 

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late. 

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work. 

He had to. 

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen. 

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?” 

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.” 

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.” 

And you laugh. 

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions. 

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now. 

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today. 

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems. 

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg. 

And he stops looking there. 

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them. 

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away. 

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing. 

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss. 

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again. 

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen. 

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes. 

His cheeks are hot. 

Fuck is he blushing? 

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you. 

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you. 

Okay fine, it is. 

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground. 

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop. 

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor. 

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up. 

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different. 

“You good, Chef?” 

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat. 

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.” 

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Anything, Chef.” 

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.” 

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders. 

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back. 

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious. 

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief? 

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.” 

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.” 

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor. 

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you. 

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him. 

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well. 

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video. 

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

[mintwithchoco]

When will I see you again?

tripleS Sohyun x Male Reader

Word Count: 1876 words

Categories: fluff, shorts, idolgirlfriend!sohyun

Inspired from:

“Are you sure you're gonna be okay?”

“Pffft, of course! Four months was it? It's not gonna be that long.”

“What if there's a sudden change in the schedule and I have t—” 

“Sohyun.” You instinctively grab her hand. “I’ll be fine. Don't worry about me. What matters now is that you're debuting soon right?”

Despite your efforts of putting her mind at ease, Sohyun is still reluctant to leave you behind. Four months may seem short in your eyes, but anything could happen in that period of time. As you are carrying her suitcase to the door of your apartment, Sohyun stops in her tracks and looks back towards the living room, clearly reminiscing the moments you both had together.

It is definitely a hard decision for Sohyun—being an idol comes at a cost. While it is her dream to pursue a music career, another dream of hers is to find a perfect partner in her life. That's when you came into her life, bearing a similar mindset, the difference being that you’ve already achieved a few of your dreams. You almost have it all—a calm 8 to 5 job, a decent car and a spacious place to live in—only needing a fine woman to complete your life. 

Sohyun suddenly snickers, “Remember when we were struggling to get the TV working, oppa?” 

A quick rundown of memories crosses itself into your brain in an instant. You just moved into your newly bought apartment, exactly after three months of being in a relationship with Park Sohyun. You know that she isn’t gonna be around for long at the time, but you gladly let her help out with setting up your living room. From building IKEA furniture to putting up small decorations around the house, it’s safe to say that the day is more than memorable to you, being it ends with you taking her innocence away that night. I mean, can you blame yourself though? Sohyun clearly knows what she is doing to you, wearing that beautiful floral sundress that barely covers her tantalizing body.

“Oh. You meant the time when you smacked me with the remote because I kept checking you out?” 

“Because you weren't doing anything!” Sohyun whines.

“How can I concentrate when you look way too hot in that dress?” Sohyun flusters upon hearing your words, her head pressing against your shoulder while groaning cutely.

The moment is then cut short when her phone suddenly rings loudly. Her manager is the one calling, signifying that her departure is now imminent. She answers the phone swiftly and with a few simple replies, the call ends.

“Are they here?” Sohyun nods. “You're going to the dorm first right?” 

“Yeah, we’re shooting the video for my arrival.” Sohyun then sighs, “I’m so nervous. My heart is pounding.”

Looking at her state reminds you of yourself way back on your first day of work. Everyone has that fear of the unknown, so it's natural to be filled with anxiety at this very moment. But there's another factor that makes her overthink things — you. What would it be like if you were alone? Will she ever have time for you? Will texts and calls be enough for the both of you? And most importantly, will this relationship lasts— 

“Sohyun, listen.” You intertwine your hands with hers once again. “Though our steps may not go along together now, remember that I will still walk this journey together with you. I’m still gonna be here no matter what happens.”

Sohyun’s eyes freeze in time, staring at you deeply until it begins to well with tears. At that moment, she realizes how much she means to you, how you are willing to give up the precious time you wanted with her, and how supportive you are throughout her career journey up till now. She doesn't need to say anything as you already opened your arms for her to fall into your embrace. The hug gets tighter with Sohyun soaking your shirt with her tears, emotions finally flowing out as she imagines how much she will miss you throughout the later months. She takes in all of you for the last time—the warmth of your body, the remnants of your scent and the gentleness of your touch before looking up to you.

You waste no time in reaching out to her chin with your fingers and leaning down to close the distance between both of your lips. The softness of her lips sends shivers down your spine, your hot breaths being shared as you part your lips slightly. Sohyun trembles in your arms, making small noises which invigorates you to pull her closer by the waist. You would love for the time to just stop at the exact moment, but unfortunately, as you pulled away from her to catch a short breath, reality hits.

“Ah, sorry. Got a little carried away.” 

Sohyun shakes her head. “It’s gonna be a while for us to feel like this again.” She then checks her phone. “Yeah, I should really go now.”

You immediately help her drag her suitcase outside. “Have you double checked everything?”

“Mhm, I’m all good. Don’t worry oppa, I will try to text you whenever I can. I promise that I won’t forget about you, even for a single day!” Sohyun says, her voice full of determination.

“As long as you’re safe and sound, honey. Don’t pressure yourself to make time for me, just focus on your shows and schedules okay?”

Sohyun nods cutely. “Alright, I’m going off now!”

“All the best honey!” You give a quick peck on her cheek. “I love you!”

Her cheeks grow a faint blush of red. “I love you more!” 

The pressure and useless thoughts in her mind are now washed away as Sohyun makes her way to the elevator at the end of the hallway. Once she gets inside the elevator, Sohyun looks back and gives you a goodbye wave while shouting, “Bye oppa! I’ll be back soon!”

As the elevator doors slowly close, you return her wave with a smile.

“See you soon, my love.”

It's been seven months, and unfortunately, you've gotten used to this scene. 8 PM on a typical night, alone and wide awake in your dark room, accompanied by the low buzzing sound of your AC, bored out of your mind with only your thoughts to please.

︶︶︶︶︶

Eventually, you grow tired of it and drag yourself out to your living room. The TV is already on anyway, so you quickly grab a drink from your fridge and get comfortable on your couch. You’re not even focusing on the show playing until your ear caught a specific word mentioned.

“Today we are joined by, tripleS! Welcome!”

Your eyes immediately lock onto the screen, and as if fate wants it to be perfect, she appears right in front of you, her visual still as perfect as you can remember. That beautiful smile plastered on her face is a symbol of her being proud of her achievements, starring in one of the biggest K-Pop girl group at the moment. The way she talks is different as well, given that she is one of the older members and one of the backbones to their amazing discography, writing and producing a number of iconic songs for her group and even other artists.

Within the next hour, you continue to watch the show, even though it isn’t really your cup of tea. A change of pace is not a bad choice though, considering that you’re already finished binging the shows that you really like anyways. The longer you watch the show, the more you get distracted, not because of the show being too typical or boring. Your focus is strictly on the woman that you miss so dearly for the past few months, talking away to the hosts and having lots of fun with her members who she already considers as family. 

At this point, the show is wrapping up to its end. You are now lost in a million thoughts, confused about what your next action will be. Following the circumstances—the time period it’s been since she has updated you with her schedules, the amount of posts about her that you’re seeing more on your socials, and most importantly, the emptiness you gradually feel due to her absence in the house—there’s only one conclusion you came to, in the form of a question. 

When will I see you again?

You grab your phone on the table and quickly find her number. Before you could even tap the call button, you hesitate because of the fear of disrupting her extremely busy schedule. Your feelings are strong however, as you talk yourself out of your denial, having hope that she may reply back with a voicemail if the call is ignored. Your intention keeps going back and forth, until you stop yourself and thought, “Fuck it. If it happens, it happens.”

The phone beeps.

Unexpectedly, your doorbell rings.

Hang up the phone and walk over to your door. You’re pretty sure that it’s your workmate returning your laptop that you asked him to fix, and the fact that he always comes over unannounced. As soon as you pull the handle of your door, a figure rushes inside without any warning and closes it.

“What the—” Your eyes widen upon recognizing the figure, amidst the black cap and mask covering half of their face.

“Phew! That was close. I thought someone almost saw me.” 

All alarms go off in your head when both of your eyes land upon one another. That deep soothing voice is too familiar to you.  And even under their thick winter jacket, their body figure is still noticeable. There's no denying it. You definitely know this person by now, and you have nothing else on your mind other than to lunge forward and bring them into a tight embrace. 

Sohyun obviously doesn’t resist as she feels the same way, gladly wrapping her arms around your torso after removing her disguise. 

“Sorry that I took too long.” 

Deepen the hug and bury your face into her shoulder. At long last, you finally feel complete. Even if she's coming over for just a while, you’re more than happy to have your beloved’s presence around. An act of a strong boyfriend who can handle everything without his significant other is slowly being dropped, judging by how you're literally melting in her arms while holding back tears of joy.

“I missed you.” A kiss on her cheek. “Really missed you.”

She smiles. “I would hate you if you didn't.”

Once you release yourself away from her body, you excitedly invite her into the living room and help her to carry whatever she brought along. The curiosities that you have is filling up your mind, and yet, you didn't ask any of it to her. Instead, you simply utter these three words to bring her instant comfort.

“Welcome home, Sohyun.”

Despite knowing that you won't be able to see each other constantly, you still desire to remain in her life for as much as you could—like a star in the sky, which shines so brightly regardless if it’s in the bright blue morning, or the gloomy dark night.

===========================================

note; the writing high strikes again, but sadly not in the form horniness. also been addicted to triples content as of late, so it's only right that i write a little something. :D

don't worry, i'm still working hard on the commissions, so please wait just a little bit more for longer fics! writing short fics like these is a way for me to feel better and motivated to work on the mountain of drafts i have. so maybe you would see more of these in the future!

anyways, i hope you enjoy this one, even though it's barely edited and a bit rushed. and as always, i appreciate all of your support, thank you for reading and have a good one! <3

[yok00k]

LOVE.

pairing: pinkcoquette/Sanriolover!oc x bf!jk

genre: fluff, smut

“Sippin' bubbly, feelin' lovely”

Synopsis: you wanted to try the “pink coquette core” on your boyfriend and your poor sleepy dog

warnings: brief SMUT at the end, oc is desperate, clingy, and be waking everyone up @ midnight in the name of coquette core💀, too much love in the air, mention of jk only in his sweatpants, dirty thoughts, (pink bow should have its own warning too imo)

Author’s note: this is my very first work/drabble ^o^ I was mainly inspired by these outta pocket ‘coquette core’ videos on tiktok and it made me think about my man jungkook and my son bam (this is unedited & will probably stay that way, I just write for my own sanity)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

Pleaseeee my kookie? I promise it will be quick” I desperately pleaded to him as I straddled him on the couch. I showered his entire head with plenty of my sweet kisses, trying to convince him to do a foolish video that’s quite trending today. The only response I got are his arms snaking around my lower waist while he continues to watch his tv show, Bloodhound.

Early this morning, I was scrolling on my ‘for you’ page and saw a bunch of pretty and pleasing coquette videos. Essentially, pink bows were wrapped around the daintiest [and most random] stuffs including ramen cup noodles, lip oil, or even a rose toy. Do I get the pattern of the coquette trend? Absolutely not. But one certain thing I’m sure of is that I will wrap a tiny baby pink bow around my boyfriend. And it will happen no matter what it takes.

Since offering him with plenty of affection doesn’t seem to work, I had to go down with my last technique. “I will grant you three wishes if you let me do it” I whispered softly to his ear. Immediately, he grabbed the remote to pause the show that he was so focused on .

“Anything?” Jungkook eagerly asked, two round, shining dark eyes gaze upon me as they search for assurance in my words. “Anything” I guarantee, kissing his pretty nose before getting off his lap.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

“koo stay still” I complained while giggling at the sight of him attempting to awkwardly stand still with a flimsy ribbon flimsy bow that looped around his torso and veiny arms.

‘How cute’ I thought.

While trying to capture videos and a couple of photos of him, I can’t help but to flash a grin. Small things like this really make my heart so full. Spending a solid quality time with him, even if it’s doing something nonsense is a memory I will forever value.

“So cute” I mumbled, staring at my phone as I went through the images I took seconds ago.

After a minute or two, Jungkook, who’s still standing, took a loud, deep breath.

“baby are we done yet?” he whined. “Oh my bad kookie” I rushed to turn off my phone to finally give my undivided attention to him. The ribbon tied around him got unfasten by me. Finally, he can breathe freely again.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

It was midnight when out of nowhere, another light bulb popped out of my brain on what (or who) to use the notorious pink decoration for. And in this case, I won’t be able to sleep unless I accomplish the sudden idea. Somehow, I managed to escape from Jungkook’s arms securely holding onto my waist. I quickly grab two pink short strips and head to the living room. The entire apartment was filled by silence and darkness therefore I turned the mini lampshade in the corner, causing Bam to wake up and immediately have his guards up. When he recognized that it was just me, he put his head down on the floor while holding a gaze on me as if he’s questioning ‘why is she bothering me at this hour?’

“I’m sorry for waking you up this hour bammie, mama just needs to do something real quick ok?” I gently explained to the Doberman. It didn’t take me so much time to delicately tie a not-so-tight bow around his both ears. What took time was taking good pictures of him for the reasons that he’s moving too much and doesn't know what on earth is going on.

“Look at mami bam” I whispered, snapping my fingers to get his attention to look in the camera. The poor dog keeps moving his head, figuring out the thing around his ears are for.

“Baby what are you doing?” an abrupt voice spoke behind me.

Shit. Turning my body around, I got a glance at the half lidded eyes filled with pure curiosity. As I examined his tall and muscular physique, I also didn’t fail to notice that he was only wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants. And when I say only, I meant only so don’t ask me for any color of something.

The things that my mind urges me to do.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

I dropped my knees in front of him, left hand wrapped in his upper leg while the other hand softly palmed his growing tent. I looked into his eyes as I gave his clothed cock few pecks, teasing him. Instantly he gave me a nod before throwing his head back, gesturing to me to keep on going.

I wasted no time and pulled down his sweatpants till an angry, hard cock that slapped his bottom abdomen was released from being suffocated. It’s too pretty, so desperate to be touched. Using my small grip, I wrapped my hand around his shaft, directing it right to my drooling mouth. I gifted his pink mushroom tip kitty licks, then proceeded to gradually bob my head up and down greedily to his cock as if he’s my last meal.

“mmh.. so good baby” jungkook shamelessly groans, the cold room is filled with nothing but dirty, loud moans. The noises motivated me to go on and also to do the best I can to make him feel good.

―୨୧⋆ ˚

“___, you still with me?” he asked again, bringing me out in reality from the filthy thoughts that've been going around the back of my head.

“yeah.. I was just trying the ribbon on Bam” I responded breathlessly as my gaze returned to his beautiful eyes. I just smiled, as if I wasn’t imagining an obscene scene with him a few seconds ago. “let’s go to sleep” I announced as I got up from the ground.

and before we sleep, I made sure to turn my little cute scenario into reality.

[brehaaorgana]

ADHD money/budgeting system I'm currently using for my benefit is going well (I've been using it for like half a year now?), and I wanna recommend it.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT. 10/10 do recommend. Uhhh rambling about it and my generic disclaimers + gushing extensively under the cut but TL;DR I think it's great for ADHD ppl, I've used it for 6+ months now and I find it super SUPER helpful. also weirdly fun.

DISCLAIMERS:

Budgeting helps you understand/know your money, it can't make money appear where there is none.

Everyone should learn to budget even if you don't have much money (especially then)

This is NOT a magic trick solution. Just like everything else, it is an assistive tool. This is one of those adult things we can't simply opt out of without negative consequences, though.

My advice is based on something I am currently able to do. That is, I can spend an amount of money on this specific thing that works well for me. If you have no extra money to spend then previously I was tracking things in a notebook. So you can still do this.

I believe Dave Ramsey is a fundie fraud/hack and no one should listen to him about money.

DID YOU KNOW THEY CANCELLED MINT???

Okay? OKAY.

Ahem.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT.

It is called YNAB for short. The first 34 days are your free trial, and that is my referral link. If anyone uses it and then signs up for a subscription, we both get a month free. Also you can share a subscription with up to six people (account owner can see everything but individuals can pick and choose what they share amongst each other) so like...idk your whole polycule can be on one account. Or your kids. Whatever.

If you are a student, it's free for a year. If you aren't, a subscription is $99 for a year (paid all at once) or $14.99 monthly, which is equivalent to paying Amazon prime. Go cancel Prime and get this instead tbh.

They got a whole article just on ynab and ADHD. They also have like...a big variety of ways to access their info? They have a book, podcast episodes, YouTube videos, blog posts, q&A's, free live workshops you can join (you can request live captioning), emails they can send (if you want) a wiki, and so on. They got workshops on all kinds of topics!!

So whatever ends up working for your brain. It also has a matching app.

If you lost Mint this year they have a gajillion things for moving from Mint.

Also they have a "got five minutes?" Page which has a slider so you can decide how much attention/time you have before going on lol:

They only have 4 rules of the budget, they're simple and practical, and it doesn't get judgey or like...mean about your spending.

1. Give every dollar a job 2. Embrace your true expenses 3. Roll with the punches 4. Age your money.

THEN THEY BREAK THESE DOWN INTO SMALL STEPS FOR YOU! They even have a printable! Also these rules are great because there's built in expectations that things WILL HAPPEN and it's NOT all or nothing with a fear of total collapse into failure. Reality and The Plan don't always align, especially if you have ADHD. So it's directing our energy towards the true expenses and not clinging to The Plan!! over reality.

You can automate a lot of shit (you can sync with your bank accounts just like mint, but also automate tagging the categories of regular expenses/transactions). And if for whatever reason you accidentally do something that makes the budget look weird or wrong:

A) you can usually fix it somehow OR b) they have like, a button you can press that gives you a clean slate and archives the previous version of the budget for you.

So if you forget for a few weeks or months, or accidentally input something wildly wrong, or just don't want to look at a really terrible month anymore and feel like you need a fresh start you can usually either fix it or start fresh which is really nice.

The app also (for whatever reason) scratches my itch to have things like...have incentives or little game-like goals in a way mint never did? I don't know why. Filling up the bars or putting money into the categories to cover my expenses is satisfying lmao. You can also make a big wish expense category for all the fun shit you want, and fund it whenever you can and then you can see the little bar go up and that's fun.

Anyways I've been using it for like 6+ months now and I think it's really helped me when I use it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Call Up

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get called up

Your first senior call up happens when you're seventeen (nearly eighteen) and still playing at Arsenal.

You've got a day off before the derby against Chelsea so your mothers have flown out to support you and, somehow, you've ended up at Millie Bright's house.

You're surrounded by your Momma and Morsa's old teammates (and a few of the Arsenal girls who were on the team when you were very little). There aren't enough seats for everyone but you're happy to sit on the floor in front of Momma and let her slowly card her fingers through your hair.

It's one of the things you've missed about being in England. You miss the little things about Momma and Morsa like this. You know they miss you too because there's never a day where they rearrange your daily video calls or don't send Leah around to your apartment when they think you're feeling especially sad on the call.

You miss them. They miss you. But you all know that it's best for you to be here, in England. You're still the second choice keeper but you know that if you keep working hard then by your eighteenth birthday, you'll have managed to clinch the number one spot.

After the derby, it's international break and you know that, while the senior teams are calling everyone up this week, you need to wait a few more days until the Denmark youth team sends for you again.

You've settled in well in the under-nineteen squad and you know that there's a round of friendlies coming up soon that you're excited to be apart of.

"The third choice keeper broke her arm," You can hear Morsa complain about the Swedish team," It was such a freak accident. It was gory to even watch. I almost threw up."

You don't pay much attention though, leaning back easily into Momma's hands. You're not paying attention to anything actually because you almost miss the vibrating of your phone on your leg.

You don't recognise the number but you pick it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Is this y/n?" A professional-sounding voice asks," The Arsenal keeper?"

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Excellent. I'm calling up on behalf of the Swedish Senior team. I'm sure you know by now but our usual third keeper has been injured. We're offering you the call up in her place."

"W-What?"

You must sound especially panicked because everyone in the room has turned to look at you in confusion.

"I understand that you usually play for Denmark's youth teams but we've had our eye on you for a while. We've got a round of three friendlies coming up, one for each keeper, and would love to have you with us."

You feel frozen in place, capable of nothing but blinking.

"I..."

"Sorry," The person says," I'm getting ahead of myself. I understand completely if you wish to stay with Denmark. You're such a talent. Forgive me for wanting to have it on my team. I understand if you need to discuss this with your mothers as well. Do you need some time to think about it?"

"No!" You say quickly.

You've never really thought about a senior team call up. You just kind of assumed that Denmark would be the obvious choice. You've spent so much time in a Denmark shirt that you just assumed Sweden didn't want you anymore.

"You've already come to a decision?"

Your feelings on this call up must have already been decided. It must have been decided for years in some deep, hidden away part of your brain because there's no need to even think about it. There's no need to even discuss it with Momma and Morsa.

Somehow, you think you've always known the decision you would come to.

"I'd love to join you for the friendlies."

You can hear the person's smile through the phone. "Excellent," They say," The details will be sent to your email as well as your agent's, who I'm sure will forward it to your mothers. Just in advance, what would you like on your jersey? Your name or Eriksson-Harder, like your Denmark jersey?"

You make eye contact with Momma, who looks increasingly worried the longer you stay on the phone. "Harder-Eriksson," You say," Please."

"You've got it. I'll see you very soon, y/n."

"Yeah, you too."

The call ends and you stare at your phone for several seconds.

"It's a bit early for the youth team call up," Morsa teases," You're changing your name? Does Eriksson-Harder not cut it anymore for Denmark?"

You blink. "More like Harder-Eriksson suits Sweden better."

"Sweden called you up?" Momma asks," That's strange. You've never had any problem rejecting their call if it came before Denmark's before."

You shake your head. "No, it wasn't the youth team. It was the senior team."

The room's quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Morsa's voice goes hoarse. "What?"

You look at her. "I got called up for Sweden's senior team."

Someone else in the room, Leah, you think, says," Holy shit."

Momma pulls you into a hug. "Harder-Eriksson?" She asks, eyes glistening with tears.

You manage to shrug. "Morsa got Eriksson-Harder when I played for Denmark. You get Harder-Eriksson when I play for Sweden."

Morsa is still frozen in shock, looking much like how you feel. Her hands are shaking a little as she crushes you in her embrace. When she pulls away, she's crying too.

"Magda," Momma says," Why don't you call Frido? I'm sure she'd want to know."

Morsa nods robotically. "Right. Yes. Frido. Would want to know. Yes."

"And you," Momma says fondly, cupping your face and kissing your forehead," I think you should call a certain retired keeper, shouldn't you?"

You've already got Zećira's contact lined up on your phone.

[arcanesea]

fine line

PAIRING: kim seungmin x reader GENRE: fluff WC: 572 WARNINGS: none(?)

“Okay, that’s it,” Seungmin closed the book he was holding, looking directly at you. “What’s going on with you?”

Nothing’s going on with you, is what you want to say. But you just stopped scrolling and shifted your gaze to Seungmin who was leaning on the couch across from you. Your eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.

“You’ve sighed like 100 times in the past 15 minutes,” Seungmin observes. You rolled your eyes at him, focusing back on your screen. You scroll past a book review video; too tired to think, scroll past a breakfast recipe without saving it, scroll past a cute animation video without even smiling.

“101 times now,” Seungmin announces. You look at him, still not saying anything. Afraid that if you even open your mouth, you won’t stop talking. Seungmin stands from his seat and moves to the other end of your couch. He lifted your feet fleetingly before sitting down with your feet on his lap. “Don’t you want to share what’s inside that little brain of yours?”

“Are you saying I’m dumb?” you voiced for the first time since the last hour. You wittingly press your heel towards his thigh, earning a low grumble from Seungmin.

“That’s your word, I won’t say such things to my girlfriend,” Seungmin said, drumming to your shin. “So?”

You unintentionally sigh and then smile at Seungmin when you realize before setting your phone on your chest.

“Don’t you feel like the world is moving too fast?” you proposed. Lately, the bones in your body refuse to cooperate, and you’re just constantly tired. “Weren’t we just graduating high school yesterday? And suddenly we’re going on our own way, doing interns and everything else. It’s like we don’t even have time for each other.” your voice waning.

“Aw, is this your way of saying you miss me?” Seungmin teased. You respond by once again pressing your heel towards his thigh. “But I get you” he leaned back on the couch, pausing to find the right word to respond to you. You sigh again, laughing now that you remember the exact count of how many times you sigh.

“I don’t think it’s normal to feel this way, because like… we have different paces, and I shouldn’t compare myself to others. But at the same time, I just can’t stop thinking about where we’ll go in life… What will happen to… us?”

“Do you think we’ll break up after we graduate?” You nodded sheepishly. A grin plastered on your face, matching Seungmin’s playful energy. He puts a hand over his chest, sounding hurt, “Unbelievable.”

You laugh ardently. Of course, there’s only a small part of you that thinks that way, the others are proceeding with certainty that you’ll get through whatever crisis this is with him.

“I know you’ve heard enough of it, and it probably won’t have any effects. But we’re going to be fine, babe,” Seungmin said, tracing circles on your shin. “The future’s undecided, right, but we’re doing everything we can right now to shape it into something that we dreamt about.”

And he’s only wrong about one thing, every word he says does have its effect on you, and you believe in him. You believe you’ll be fine.

a/n. shout out to every last-year college student out there. we got this<3 also seungmin kinda look like jake (enha) on that pic... he's so boyfriend

[brattyfork]

can’t

summary: you’re having a hard time getting off, matt offers a solution

warnings: THIS IS SMUT, but there’s nothing crazy, this is pretty long tho

when i broke up with my boyfriend, i knew it’d be hard, knew it would take a while to get over him. what i didn’t expect was how much i missed him sexually. the whole time we were together i didn’t masturbate, i didn’t need to, if i was horny i just went to his house and he helped me. this leads me to where i am now, desperately trying to get off after almost two years of not touching myself. i tried everything, watched porn, read books, even bought like four different toys and nothing could get me over the edge.

i had just finished watching a pretty steamy movie with my roommates, three triplet brothers. i suggested the movie, not realizing how much sex was in it, the boys didn’t seem to mind too much. chris was on his phone, his head snapping up every time he heard a chick moan. nick had his headphones in watching tiktoks but matt was actually very invested in the movie. at the beginning, he was playing clash of clans on his phone but quickly got distracted by the movie and just kept watching. after the movie ended, matt was the only one paying attention. “im gonna go take a nap” i said, trying to sound as tired as possible. he just looked up at me, smiling and nodding as i walked away.

i figured now would be as good a time as any to try again so i got set up. got myself a water, grabbed my lube and various toys from my closet and pulled up pornhub on my laptop. i know porn rots your brain or whatever but at this point i didn’t care anymore. i grabbed my airpods off my bedside table and put one in my ear, so the boys couldn’t hear the porn but i could still hear them. setting up, i played one of the first videos i saw on pornhub, having no idea what to even search for, hit play and pulled my blanket over my legs, seeing as i had no pants on i was kinda cold.

while looking for toys, i stumbled across something called a wand, it had pretty good reviews so i caved and spent the hundred bucks on it. i plugged it into the power strip next to my bed and turned it on, it was loud but i figured the boys were doing their own things so whatever. i squirted the tiniest bit of lube on it, i was already pretty wet from the movie and i hated the greasy feeling of the lube. i flipped the switch and got to work, or at least i tried to. i was doing pretty good, the wand felt awesome and i felt myself getting close but it would just disappear out of nowhere. after inadvertently edging myself three times, i was basically crying. being so frustrated i threw the wand across the room, pulling it out of its socket. i pulled my knees to my chest, sobbing into them. seconds later, my door flung open, matt appearing behind it.

“y/n! is everything oka-“ he paused, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him, closing the door behind him.

“what’s happening? what is all this?” he gestured to my bed, moving closer. i didn’t speak or move, i just kept sobbing, hoping this was all some bad dream i would wake up from any second. i felt my bed shift from matt sitting down next to me. he placed a hand on my back,

“y/n?”. i just leaned into him, crying some more while he wrapped both his arms around me, still hugging my legs with a blanket still covering my lower half.

“hey, hey, you’re okay, what happened?” i figured there was no point in lying to him, he had already seen everything.

“i can’t come, i haven’t in gotten off in weeks” i said, my sobbing becoming more intense from the embarrassment of having said this out loud.

“don’t cry sweet girl, you’re okay, take a deep breath with me” he lifted my chin to look at him, taking a deep breath in through his mouth and slowly letting it out through his nose, i copied him, repeating it a few times before i could form coherent sentences.

“there you go, you’re okay. do you wanna tell me what’s happening?” he asked sweetly, making sure that i knew i didn’t have to tell him anything if i didn’t want to.

“i haven’t gotten off since i broke up w y/e/n, i can’t seem to do it myself, and as you can see,” i gestured to all the items on my bed “i’ve tried everything.” he stayed quiet for a second, obviously having no idea what to say.

“im so sorry y/n” he said finally , pulling me into a hug.

“it’s okay, thanks for listening to me cry” i chuckled out, trying to diffuse the tension.

“i uh have a suggestion, if you’d like to hear it…” i nodded against his chest, willing to try almost anything at this point.

“i could um try and help you” i pulled away from him, searching his face for any sign that he was fucking with me. his face was dead serious, concerned, with a slight ting of red on his cheeks.

“really? uh how?” i asked, knowing what he meant but wanting to make sure we were on the same page.

“well, i could finger you or eat you out? whatever you want really, whatever you think will help”

“are you sure? that’s a big ask”

“you didn’t ask, i offered. but only if you want to, if you don’t i’ll go and we can pretend this didn’t happen”

“no!” i said, louder and whinier than i meant to, “i mean um if you don’t mind”

“i don’t mind at all” he said as his eyes glanced down at my lips, letting his eyes move down my body to where the blanket was. he got up, moving around to the other side of my bed, picking up my laptop, closing it and setting it on my bedside table.

“ matt?”

“yes angel?”

“can you uh can we like maybe um-“

“words baby”

“can you kiss me?” a small smirk grew on his face.

he walked back around to the side of the bed i was on, standing in front of me he held my face in his hands, leaning over to place a small kiss on my lips, pulling away briefly before kissing me again this time pushing me back to lay on the bed. he hovered over me before settling down in between my legs, whimpering as i felt his bulge rub my clit between the blanket. he continued to kiss me gently before pulling away with my bottom lip in between his teeth. he smiled at me before grabbing my face, turning my head to give him better access to my neck. he started with light kisses, making me shiver before he started to suck a little bit, unfortunately not enough to leave marks. he then bit where he had been sucking before, licking the same spot causing me to whine. he came up, pressing another kiss to my lips before looking down at the blanket.

“can i take this off?” i nodded quickly. he pulled the blanket off exposing my bare pussy. he lifted my sweater slightly, placing kisses down the valley in between my breasts, moving down to my stomach. he let his knees fall to the ground, now sitting at the end of the bed. he wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me down toward him. i gasped at the sudden movement, looking down to see his piercing blue eyes staring straight back at me. he began kissing the insides of my thighs, not for too long, knowing how much i needed this. he looked at my pussy, glistening from all the attention, seemingly entranced.

“matt?” bringing him out of his trance

“sorry, you’re just so pretty” i blushed at the compliment. he leaned down, pressing a light kiss to my clit before licking a stripe up my folds making me let out a low moan. i could feel him smile against me as he continued to eat me out, my moans growing louder as he got more into it. lost in my pleasure, i felt something proding at my entrance before pushing in.

“oh fuck matt” i managed to whine out.

he began fucking into me with his finger while still sucking on my clit. it felt unreal but i still needed more.

“matt more please” i begged. lucky for me, he understood what i meant, adding another finger, making me let out a loud groan. i reached my hand down, searching for anything to grab onto. matt noticed, interlacing his fingers with mine. with another thrust of his fingers, he brushed my g spot, making me squeeze his hand.

“oh my god matt do that again please” he did as i asked repeating the motion, my moans growing louder.

“matt please don’t stop im so close please” i begged, grinding my pussy against his face trying to gain more friction. he held my thighs down, trying to keep me still so he could get me over the edge.

“fuck i’m gonna cum please don’t stop please please” i begged, babbling whatever words would come out of my mouth, not caring how i sounded. with a few more pumps of his fingers i came completely undone, my thighs shaking from the pleasure i hadn’t experienced in weeks. he continued eating me gently through my orgasm before coming back up to my face, kissing me. i could taste myself on his lips and it was intoxicating.

“better?”

“a little”

“a little??” surprised after my relatively intense orgasm

“matt” he looked at my inquisitively, searching my face for what i would say next.

“can you fuck me , please?”

“want my cock inside you princess ?” he said lifting his shirt over his head.

i nodded but i should’ve known better. he tilted his head to the side, giving me a look.

“you need to use your words baby, i can’t read minds” he reminded me

“ need you inside me please”

“so polite, sweetheart” he cooed, undoing his belt, completely mesmerizing me. he pulled his pants down, leaving him in just his boxers as he went to crawl on top of me.

“no, take those off too” i demanded, desperate to see all of him.

“so needy” he complied, letting his boxers hit the floor. i wasn’t surprised, i knew matt wasn’t small. i smiled excitedly, ready to just have him inside me. he reached both his hands out to me motioning for me to grab them. he pulled me up before grabbing the hem of my sweatshirt and pulling it over my head. he leaned down, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing me. i wrapped my legs around his hips as i deepened the kiss, trying to get as close to him as possible. with his arms around my waist and my legs around his hips, he lifted me up before sitting where i had been before. he placed me on his lap gently, both of us groaning, him feeling my wetness spread down his cock, me feeling his cock against my clit.

“can you ride me angel?” he said pulling away from my lips slightly, planting them firmly back after he asked. i just nodded into the kiss, needing him so desperately. he pulled away from the kiss, taking one of his arms off my waist, bringing his hand up to my mouth. he gently pressed his index and middle finger into my mouth.

“get my hand wet baby” i sucked on his fingers for a bit before he decided they were wet enough but when he pulled his fingers out i grabbed his wrist, keeping his hand near my face. i licked above where my hand grasped his wrist, all the way up to his fingertips. his pupils dilated in an instant, i could barely see any blue, his eyes fully black with lust. he brought his hand down and stroked himself a few times before lifting me slightly off his lap, lining himself up. he looked at me, making sure he saw no discomfort in my face. i gave him a small smile before sinking onto his cock. he held my hips as my arms flung around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. he guided me down, making sure not to rush me. i finally bottomed out and let out a big breathe. i sat there momentarily, enjoying how full i felt. i lifted my head from him, kissing him before pushing up on my knees, coming off his cock slightly before going back down. he let out a groan, and with his hands still on my ass helped me ride him, lifting me off him and helping me sink back down. after a little bit of this i could feel my legs getting sore, i didn’t say anything, feeling bad that i was too tired to ride him. despite me not telling him, matt noticed. he quickly flipped us over, him now on top of me, giving my legs a much needed break.

“did you get tired baby?”

i nodded, hoping that would be enough of a response for him.

“that’s okay, wanted me to take control?”

i whined at his words, grabbing his face pulling his lips to mine. he began to pound into me at an ungodly pace and i dragged my nails along his back, making him groan into the kiss. i disconnected our lips briefly.

“you feel so good, so deep inside me” i whispered against his lips. apparently he liked that as he reconnected our lips and started fucking me so hard i saw stars. i began to essentially scream into the kiss. he pulled away, “you sound so good for me sweetheart”

“matt i’m so close c-can i hnng” i struggled to finish my sentence.

“go ahead baby, wanna feel you cum on me”

with his permission, i let go, my legs began shaking as i let out the loudest moan that’s ever passed my lips

“fuck baby you look so good, can i cum inside you?”

“fuck, pLEASE” i croaked out, becoming overstimulated.

his thrusts became sloppier and he slowed down as he released inside me, completely filling me up. he pumped into me a few more times before pulling out.

“are you okay sweet girl?” he asked, concerned as my eyes were half lidded and fluttering open and shut.

“mhm” i responded, only able to mumble and whine.

“cmon let’s get you cleaned up” he lifted me bridal style, carrying me to my bathroom, setting me down on the toilet.

“go pee baby” he ordered as he made his way back into my room to clean up a little. after i peed i sat on the toilet, elbows propped up on my knees with my head in my hands. i heard matt’s footsteps as he made his way back into the bathroom, holding a t-shirt, underwear and your favorite pajama pants.

“can you walk?” he asked, sounding worried despite his smirk on his face, proud of how good he made me feel.

“maybe?” he reached out his hand for me to grab, helping me off the toilet. at first, my legs felt like i had no bones in them but i was able to stand after a few seconds. i slipped the shirt over my head before holding onto him to put on my underwear and pants. he walked me into my room, helping me into bed before handing me an unopened water bottle.

“drink this” he ordered, as he walked toward the door.

“are you leaving ?” the thought of him leaving after all that made me want to sob.

“course not baby, just turning off the lights” he said flicking off the light before returning to the bed, crawling under the blankets. he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close before giving me a sweet kiss on the back of my neck.

“thank you matt” i said, intertwining my fingers in his.

“anything for you my love” pulling me closer if even possible.

A/N: hi, thanks for reading my first full fic :) i want feedback! constructive criticism is appreciated (just don’t be mean) also idk if the peeing thing is weird, i think it’s kinda cute so 🤷‍♀️

[tarjapearce]

Mama pegging Miguel? I mean I would see something like that happening after all their years of marriage and Miguel being against it at first but then agreeing and mama having the best time of her life. I’m sorry my brain is not okay. And I’m sorry if this would make you uncomfortable in any way.

Let's be honest here. As much as we love seeing Miguel as the Dom, we've all fantasized in having him a mess underneath us. So yeah. Just gonna Indulge myself here ~

⚠️WARNINGS: FILTHINESS. Sub! Miguel, sloppy blowjob, rimjob, hole play, Mama is a one kinky mf, Gentle femdom, use of toys, fruity lube, fluff. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

You weren't one for watching porn, but seeing the reviews on the video, either straight or gay mostly of the commenters agreed on something. Toying with your partner's erogenous zones and exploiting them felt good.

Some comment were explicit and specific as to what they enjoyed the most. Even though porn was the worst way and place you could learn stuff from, the comments didn't lie. Or so you were assuming.

And things turned weirder and weirder the upcoming days. Bdsm toys, and tips started to show up on your media feed. You had your little kit stored away into the drawer under key. A kit that was often pulled out when Miguel felt particularly stressed and borderline pissed. You were each other's relief.

Not only the lingerie appealed the visuals, but enhanced it. The sole idea of having Miguel tied up and needy for you made your skin crawl in a thrilling sensation that left no room for wonders and doubts.

You had imagined in multiple times how would it be to swap the dominant role for once with Miguel. As you clicked on the toy's add, a new expansion to the world you had been exploring on the surface with him, opened just for you.

------

"Can we talk?"

"Miguel?" You sat next to him in his office as your paperwork was verified by him.

"Is something wrong?"

He mumbled as he kept working on his laptop.

His fingers stopped typing, his eyes turned to seize you with a surprise yet underlying alarm underneath them.

"I wanna peg you."

"What? Why?"

"Im curious and... If I'm honest, I wanna see you a mess"

You whispered on his ear and he chuckled, his cheeks turned into a faint shade of red.

"Ah, C'mon! I'm sure we can have some fun."

"Sigue queriendo, cariño" (Keep wishing, honey)

"Dont think so."

He just shook his head with a small smile.

"Ill wear something nice for you."

"Nope."

He took you by the chin and kissed your lips.

"Pleaseee?"

"No."

His eyes kept drifting towards you and the contraption you had just pulled out from a package. How did he ended up agreeing?

-------

Oh yeah.

A blowjob with something else he had never experienced before, and if he was honest, wished to have experienced sooner.

Sex with you was not only mind blowing, but kinky. You were kinky and shameless and seeing you assuming his role, was such an interesting switch of your dynamics. For science purposes, you said and it was more than enough to convince him.

Pillows perched behind his back to offer him a good support as his legs spreaded open for you.

Seeing you, clad in PU leather stirred his curiosity and hunger.

"Thought you'd use the handcuffs"

"We haven't even started and you're already getting kinky"

He pouted but it quickly faded as you kneeled in between his legs, hands caressing the outer of his thighs.

A gloved hand of yours took him by the base and stroked upwards in slow motions.

"You're always making me feel good."

You kissed his cheek and then his lips, as your hand kept stroking him. Lips crashed hungrily, chasing eachother desperately. Your tongue invaded his mouth, twirled around his, luring it out for you to suck it. Earning a satisfied groan from the both.

"Relax, ok? Lemme make you feel good"

With a sigh, and another breathless kiss Miguel granted you control.

You kneeled once more and resumed your stroking, blood rushing to his tip, twitching his cock alive and rock hard.

"Have I told you I love your taste?"

Beaming smile slowly melded around him. Flat tongue running on his base as your palm fisted his tip. Hot lips searing his skin with little kissed that transformed in gentle sucks. Your head supported against one of his thighs you had secured next to your head.

He groaned when you used your tongue around his frenulum, His hands clenched for a moment on the sheets as you focused on it for a moment to then take him bit by bit.

The sound of you gagging him made his head spin with sensations his body always experienced as new. A soft deep throat followed by your hand cupping the base and stroking as you paid special attention to his tip.

The little gargling and wet sounds you gave, made his body receptive and sensitive.

Red eyes fixed on your movements, and God, it was quite the sight, but you stopped, licking using your spit to stroke him faster as your other hand ventured to his sac and further.

His pants and soft raged breathings, made you bit your bottom lip.

"Tell me what you want, cariño"

His body tensed for a second as you toyed with the outer folds of his hole.

"F-Faster"

"Oh no no, I can't have you coming too soon. Need you nice and hard when I take this" Your finger moved in circular motions on the tight muscle ring.

He exhaled as the sheets crumpled underneath his iron grip

"Does it feels good, Papa?"

He nodded with shaky breaths as you engulfed him once more, but you stopped

"Uh-uh. Use your words"

You smirked to then put some flavored lube between his supple butt cheeks. You licked your lips at how receptive and sensitive his body was under your calculated and gentle handling.

Why hadn't you ventured sooner in this? Embarrassment perhaps? His groaning at your sinking finger inside him snapped your wandering attention back to him.

"You're so tight, mi amor"

You purred

"Let me-" He choked as your tongue swirled mercilessly around his tip, your cheeks hollowed hard as your cheeks clamped around him, "Dios mío, No te detengas-"

(My God, don't stop)

Another choke as another finger eased ever gently inside. You wriggled them softly, making a soft 'come' motion inside, allowing him to get used to the feeling.

Your lips glossed over both his precum and your own saliva, but that didn't stop you. He was about to push you deeper but a glare was enough to keep his hands on the sheets.

His jaw clenched, lips contorting in soft ohs and ahs as you kept blowing him and your fingers moved into him a faster but still gentle speed.

"So so close, mi amor"

He grunted while throwing his head back, sinking for a moment in the pillow. His chest heaving, the riple of his muscles tensed and shook at his desperate breaths. You stopped the sucking and he whimpered, annoyed.

"No, no mi amor. Go... Goback please, I'm so s'close." His slurred words made you giggle

"Want me to suck you dry, Papa?"

A hiss came from his lips as you found that little nub of muscle and prodded kindly at it. His mouth gaped.

"Yes" The neediness in his voice made your senses tingle. You were sure at this point you were soaked, but it wasn't about you right now. You wanted him to come undone before you while teaching him new ways to please each other beyond penetration.

And so far his body reacted so well to it, it made you smile as pride filled your chest.

"Touch yourself, Miguel. Lemme see gentle strokes"

One of his hands immediately took a hold of his aching cock

"Lento, mi amor" (Slowly)

A frustrated sigh rolled off his lips as your mouth focused on his sac. You pulled your fingers out, carefully before spreading his legs wider. As he jerked in slow motions, your tongue swiped around his hole, earning a shuddering sob from him.

His sac fell on the bridge of your nose as you helped him to stroke himself. You were eating him, and smirked as his moans turned urgent. You released one of his testicles with a gentle suck and smirked

"Hands off."

"Verga..." He rubbed his warm and flushed face in frustration. It was the second time you edged him, "I'm not appreciating you playing with me like this" (Shit)

"Relax, I want you to enjoy"

"I was until you stopped"

His voice a breathless and annoyed mumble

You stood from the bed to reach for the toy you had bought the moment he agreed. A buzzing double strap on. The outer end was just the right size to reach his sweet spot without hurting him, a first timer dildo. The inner one aligned perfectly into your spot.

Harness snuggly secured around your hips, a couple of lube squirts were poured on to the toy. Hand stroked and smeared the fruity smelling lube all over it.

You leaned to kiss him. His hands held you in place. A mix of himself and the sweet lube reminiscing on your mouth.

"I'll be gentle, ok?" He nodded in between kisses.

A new wave of thrill bolted through your body as you added some pillows underneath him for leverage. The strap perfectly aligned with his glistening hole.

"Give me slow strokes, Papa"

With a sigh, he cupped his hefty cock once more, the sensation of your gloved fingers made his body to shudder once more. His eyes widened softly as you rubbed the tip of the toy against his hole. Fingers left him to be replaced by the slick toy.

"Breathe" You cooed as you pushed in a couple of inches, allowing his muscles to assimilate the gentle intrusion.

"Does it hurts?"

He inhaled sharply and shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

Your hips stilled for a moment as your hands kneaded his inner thighs. His hand stroked himself slowly, but tightened the grip at his base.

"Yeah"

Smiling, your hips resumed their movements. Slow, deliberate circles that made the toy move carefully inside his tightness. You added another inch deeper when you noticed his breathings turned a bit more laborious.

"You're such a good boy, Papa"

The friction and the constant waves of pleasure the buzzy contraption oozed into your bodies made his strokes tighter, and your legs to quiver for a second.

His pants turned louder, turning into groans as you added another inch. His eyes closed shut at your careful and loving thrusts, Hips rocking in pliable, mild movements. His skin shook ever softly at your pushing.

His fangs bit his bottom lip when his strokes turned a bit faster, Your hands held him by his waist and you groaned.

Even though the toy inside you could never compare to his flushed and mouthwatering cock, it offered enough stimulation to make you whimper.

Mewlings and needy sounds coming from you and Miguel made it all ten times better when he bucked his hips and his eyes clamped shut when you prodded at his sweet spot. The sound his mouth did had you hissing and biting your own lip at the sight of him.

Front bangs falling into his flushed face, eyes rolling at the back of his head as sweat collected on his chest by the constant jerking. Mouth agape, panting and mumbling shy praises at your movements.

"Just like this, mi amor?"

A breathless yes.

Even though your walls quivered and milked the toy by the vibrations, your focus still remained on him and his own pleasure that only heightened by the strong vibrations on his toy's end.

"G-Gonna cum"

His words urged you to prod at the little nub of nerves that had him groaning your name.

One of his hands went above him, holding onto the headboard as his other pumped himself in a way that sent him sputtering inchorent lewd spanglish mumbles.

He choked. as you helped him cum by stroking your hand above his. Sweaty foreheads colliding, gaze locked on eachother.

"Come for me, Papa"

Your hand kept pumping and he moaned into your mouth as thick, hot blobs of fresh cum spurted from him, and rolled down your wrist, a few streaks nested on his happy trail and lower abdomen

You kissed him as you pulled out as gently as you entered

"Fuck" He mumbled against your lips. Hot breath fanning against yours, muscles spasming and shuddering as he rode his high. You could only smile with an endearing look at his blissful face

You kissed him once more. A few I love you's scurrying off his mouth.

"Love you too, mi amor"

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dead bodies, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort, implied sexual content,

W/c: 8.6k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual after such a long wait. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. When i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

“I shot Minnie.”

It takes you a breath for the words to sink in. Standing in the bathroom in the half-grey darkness golden hallway light streaming in through the open door. It’s strange how inside of your body you feel at that moment.

That frantic fever urgency of your pulse, your breath, your everything when traumatic things are about to happen and when they’re happening.

For a moment you’re keenly aware of every molecule of your body. The tacky-sweet feeling of slick drying between your thighs, the cold smoothness of the slate tile beneath your feet, the too-long press of your fingernails as you grip the bathroom countertop to keep from falling to the tile floor. Everything in feverish detail.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the light from Yoongi’s phone screen illuminates your face in blue. You look at the mirror, then down at your hands.

Minnie, a gun.

A bullet, Jin.

Your brain is whirling. Putting two and two together is like putting together a recipe. Only now you have the result and have to backtrack. How did you get here? Jin keeps talking, word vomiting down the line, and you miss a few sentences while you’re trying to put it together.

Butter, cream, sugar.

You, Jin, Jimin.

Jimin.

You think you might vomit tiramisu all over the bathroom floor.

You close your eyes, thinking hard while Jin talks. His words run over themselves with worry. “I discharged my weapon if we go to the hospital- they’ll- they’ll know and I don’t know if I can cover this up with just lies-”

“Is he dead?” Your voice is lethal in its quiet, so quiet that you think it might not go through the phone. Jin doesn’t hear it- too preoccupied with his own terror.

You close your eyes, quietly begging anything or anyone who might be listening. If god is going to take so much from him- the least she can do is give jimin this. One simple measly miracle is all you're asking for.

“Jin- tell me right the fuck now- Is Jimin dead?”

“Pup.” Jin sounds like he’s just been strangled. Like all the wind has just been knocked out of him. “Put Yoongi on the line.”

“No.” You're shaking, your heartbeat in your ears louder than your lofty hopes. Hand digging into the counter so hard that you feel it in your bones. “No, not until you tell me right now- is Minnie-”

“Hey pup.” Jimin’s voice is a quiet croak. You sag against the countertop and slide to the floor. It’s barely a weak whisper on the other side of the line. You’re glad it’s not a video call. You’re not sure you could handle seeing him if he sounds so raw. “Minnie- Minnie are you? does Jin?”

Does Jin know?

Jin must have taken back the phone because- “I need you to go get Yoongi. Now. We can’t be here any longer than necessary.” there's the muffled sound of shuffling, of hair grating against the speaker. "We're vulnerable here, I don't know if more people will come."

You move, leaving the bathroom and thundering up the steep stairs to the bedroom. There's the distant sound of Hoseok in the kitchen probably putting away the tiramisu. You head for the nest, rushing, falling to your knees in front of it, phone pinned between your shoulder and your ear.

“Yoongi isn’t here. He’s with Jungkook and Tae and Namjoon.”

“Hang up then and I’ll call Namjoon.” You peel back the nest skirt to get under it, where Jimin keeps his gun cases. They're there in the shadows, three of them black and plastic. A photocopy of his concealed carry license is taped to each on top. No one had been particularly happy about him storing them there (Namjoon especially) But now you’re glad to have them close on hand.

“No, not until you tell me where you are.”

“Pup this isn’t- you can’t-”

“Jin, please.”

You try the same code that Jimin has for his cellphone. You know it because you have a habit of going through his after your dates for some of the photos that he takes of you and Tae.

8-7-5-8.

The box clicks open and you roll your eyes. Alphas.

“Pup” you wait for him to say that he needs more help than you can offer, that carrying Minnie and keeping him alive is more than you can help with. You wait for him to say that you’re neither strong enough mentally nor physically to handle this.

But it doesn’t come. Jin’s tiny fraught sigh is there, but then-

“Alright.”

There are spots for five different handguns inside. Two missing vacant cuts into the foam. You take the smallest one, checking stock to make sure it's got bullets in it. You fumble with it, unsure and unused to this. You make sure the safety is on before you tuck it into your waistband.

“Send me your address. And if you need to- get rid of Jimin's gun- god only knows whats on that.” To Jin’s credit, he hardly splutters, hardly takes in another shaky breath.

“How do you know-” You descend the stairs slower. Screwing your eyes shut tight to keep from crying, leashing your voice into something gentle.

“Jin, Minnie is bleeding. You have more important things to worry about right now. We need to figure out how to keep Jimin alive and undiscovered.”

“You know-”

“Yes, I fucking know about Jimin, okay? We’re wasting time. Bye.”

You hang up on him. Your hands are still shaking and you spend a breath looking at them. You want to call Yoongi. Your body aching for your mate's touch, for how steady he makes you feel just by being there. the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, the way his hand is always hovering near the small of your back to guide you- to options that won't hurt and secrets that won't damage things.

You need your mate for this, already your pulse is hammering. The haze of a panic attack on the edge of your vision. One second foggy fear, the next heartbreaking clarity.

Maybe you know how this ends, you know why this is happening even if you try and ignore it. Maybe you realize just then what's going to happen. Not today but eventually, it turns you cold from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You might not lie to the pack (lying by omission doesn't carry the same weight) but you lie to yourself often.

You will call Yoongi, you decide. You pick the phone back up and navigate towards Tae’s contact. Your thumb hovers between her name and Jungkook’s. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your voice steady calling her but Jungkook will almost certainly be able to tell something's wrong just from your tone alone. He's perceptive like that.

Before you can make the call something moves in your peripheries.

There is a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the front door and the bay window. It makes you startle but at second glance it’s just Hobi. You look down at him 3 steps up the stairs. Yoongi's phone in your hand and a gun at the small of your back, covered by the fluff of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask who you were talking on the phone with. He just tilts his in question, eyes teaming with that warm sort of playfulness.

You have a decision to make; let his opinion of the pack remain what it is or change it for good. In an irrevocable way that you won't be able to take back. It feels like too much change too quickly. Barely an hour ago he was telling you he loves you and now-

The thing about secrets is that they’re terribly hard to keep.

Hobi notices, because Hobi always notices when there’s some sort of change in you or a shift in your mood- call it a survival instinct if you won't call it love.

The set of your jaw is less pouty neediness and more leashed discomfort. Your expression is the same one you had when tae came out and you sat with them at the table and told them for you. You'd think that telling other people's secrets would be easier but it isn't.

Hobi knows your tells. What it looks like when you're about to play your hand. Ace's and all.

You descend the last few steps, each one thudding, making sure you're on the same level before you slowly wrap your arms around his waist. You do it slow even though you feel every second like a gunshot wound. Like every second could be Jimin’s last heartbeat.

(thump thump thump)

Pulling yourself in tight. His hands smooth up and down your back. You could call Yoongi but-

Hobi looks down at you, pecking your forehead. He smiles softly, his lips twisting into something like a grimace because you smell a little bit sour. Doesn't mean he's not going to kiss you but-

You wonder how many times he’s kissed you already, it's only been a day but you’re already losing track of how many, maybe 2 dozen now. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes then back again.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to pout at me until I go get Yoongi?”

You shake your head and close your eyes hard. "Don't get Yoongi."

Stealing yourself just a little and hold Hobi a little closer, a little harder. But there’s nothing you can say, no lie that you can tell that will make this better. No secret that you could confess either.

“Jin called and something bad has happened.”

You feel more than see the goosebumps on Hobi’s arms as you pull away, the visceral hard swallow as he looks at your face again, waits, expecting you to pull back say-“It’s a joke it’s nothing-“ But it doesn't come.

“You have two choices Hobi, you can go to the pizza shop, and hang out with Tae and Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi or-” Hobi searches your face for something he knows; the darkness in your eyes, the vague tremble in your arms around his waist. “Or you can help me and be scared. I kind of-”

I kind of need you

But Hobi should have agency in this and shouldn't just take this path because of you. After Yoongi, you've learned when and where to give people the choice to be dragged into things they'd be better off sidestepping. You don't say it but Hobi hears it all the same.

Hobi looks so earnest but asking this of him is no easy thing. It would be easier if you weren’t so keenly aware that you’re taking away something from him. You’re giving Hobi the choice you never got that Yoongi never got, and he'll choose the same path anyway.

He cups your face, skimming his thumb up and down your cheek.“I’m okay with being scared.” I'm okay with being scared so long as it's for you.

“This is serious, this is- you can’t ask questions until I have time to answer them, you just have to listen, understand?”

“Okay.” He nods, tousled hair fluffing, looking so innocent and eager to please that you almost tell him to just stay home.

But as much as you hate to admit it. If Jimin is injured, there’s a chance you and Jin might need a second pair of hands.

It’s a blur. Tugging on your shoes- the same ones Yoongi got you ages ago for your first date with Jimin and Tae. And when you stand, he’s holding out your jacket for you to step into. When you nuzzle into the collar there's the scent of vanilla there from where Jimin rubbed his nose to your throat when you were at the hospital. It doesn't seem possible that it was only yesterday. Everything is Jimin Jimin Jimin.

“Thank you,” you say, sounding vaguely hollow. He kisses the nape of your neck and you put your hand over it.

You point your feet in the direction of Hobi’s car and get in the driver's seat. Taking his keys from him because you need them, need to be the one who drives right now. Holding the steering wheel and controlling the acceleration. Pressing down as fast as a heartbeat.

Thumpthumpthump.

You pull away from the house with a screech hitting the curb with a bit of flying sparks. you don't even wait for it to warm up. Hobi’s hands are on the plastic console of the driver’s side, holding it to keep himself from bobbing before he's belted in. He looks over at you startled. But he doesn't ask you to slow down.

You keep your eyes on the road, blinking back tears. Controlling your emotions because you can’t drive through blurry eyes. Every inch, every tick of the needle, every second of pavement screeching tire means you're a second closer to jimin.

"Jin’s going to send you an address in a few seconds, and I need you to tell me which way to turn.”

Hobi looks at you and then looks at the phone. He doesn’t try to put on a playlist, he doesn’t try to do anything just stares at you and bobbs in his seat when you take a corner too fast.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing; you’re just driving like if we don’t get there in time, someone is going to die.”

~-~

Hoseok remains remarkably calm for the drive, barely saying anything except for the winces he lets out every time you do something risky with the car like take turns at 30 miles an hour or evade a break check by driving along the shoulder.

You start to pass by empty factory buildings. The wheels of his car thudding over cracks and dips in the road until it becomes dust and gravel and the smell of gasoline permeates the interior of the car. Questions building like the heat pumping from the vents.

But he did promise not to ask until later.

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old street lamp lights punctuate the darkness. Husks of metal rise like soldiers from the shadows. The sky burning rust orange from the distant lights of the city. Not a single star in sight.

Jin’s car is there; Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as the car's lights roll over it. Jimin's car is another 50 feet away and buried in the darkness. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine across a narrow tributary casting everything; the river and the buildings, into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in car tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out.

"Hobi, sink or swim?"

He looks down at the gun in your hand, "Swim." You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him but you don’t waste another second arguing. You head off following the disturbed dust and Hobi trails behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe from larger questions he should have been asking.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be? The only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin. But the way you walk; completely silent is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly. It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger, your index finger balanced along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Yoongi. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? Hobi had almost forgotten about it.

There are some things that you never forget. Trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you; you say nothing.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you.

Jimin is sitting in one of the puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet bereft when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway. Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!”

you run to him, tucking the gun back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding wet-dark fabric. Not water but blood.

Hobi stays there in the doorway, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor.

Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, and Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek. "Hey- wake up for me a sec okay? We're gonna get you out of here-"

“Hey pup” he laughs half delirious with pain, wincing like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs. "Did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed and his pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her I’m sorry. Could you tell her for me?”

This is something Tied tourniquet tight around Jimin’s shoulder to keep him from bleeding out. something you didn't immediately notice. You stare down at the vest now- at the yellow patch letters slowly darkening with blood.

FBI, and then in smaller letters; Organized crime division, Dir. Kim.

Jin appears from around the corner, covered in dust and blood across his thighs, and his throat. So quick you barely have time to raise the gun and then put it down when you see it's not some stranger- someone sent from Yoongi's family to tie up loose ends.

Your hand tightens on the gun as you stare at Jin.

The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his forearms and black nitrile gloves cover his hands; same as Jimin's- although one is ripped. His eyes flick from you to Hobi and he almost flinches.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Jin looks back at you. “Did you have to tell Hobi?”

You bristle “I didn’t tell him anything yet. That’s how you properly protect people. Instead of you know-” The insult doesn’t make sense and neither does your anger. Jin is your pack omega but it doesn’t feel like it when you grab his lapel and shake him a little. He doesn’t move, You’re too slight to alter his course.

Hobi stumbles to your side, hand on your shoulder and Jin's. The pack omega almost flinches at the touch.

“Will both of you swallow your god damn pride and-”

The three of you fall silent when Jimin reaches up to grab your thigh.

Jimin's hand on your wrist goes vice-tight, and when you look down at him, he's more lucid. More there through the haze of pain and blood. "If anyone has any right to be mad at Jinnie- it's me."

You stare Jin down, and after a breath, he's the one who looks away from your glare, taking your hands from his coat and gently detangling them.

"Let's just get him to the fucking car." You bite out. And you get back on your knees to gently guide Jimin away from leaning up against the metal. Get your hand around Jimin’s good arm and start to try and tug him to his feet. His eyes follow you fever bright. “Tell Tae that yourself when we get you out of here.”

the three of you get jimin on his feet. Jin under his good shoulder and Hobi by his hip you there, grabbing Jimin's gun and the mask from the ground. Hobi almost trips on a piece of metal.

He’s being so good with this so- so normal. Making pregnant and stressed eye contact with you when you look at him but stay mostly silent.

Jimin’s car keys fall onto the dusty earth just as you get to Hobi’s. placing jimin gently into the backseat before you stop to pick them up.

“My car; they can’t find it here.” You glance at Jin, then Hobi, looking grey.

“Someone needs to be in the back of the car to stabilize you. you can’t just be flopping around when we drive to the-” You break off because oh this just got so much worse; there’s no way that Jimin’s going to be able to go to the hospital. Even with injuries like this.

You make eye contact with Jin again, and both of you realize at the same time, the mountain of evidence that must be inside it, but you're only the three of you- if you take Jimin's car and Hobi takes his and Jin takes his own- no one will be there to hold Minnie and keep him stable. But who knows when you'll have a chance to come back and get Jimin's car.

If the authorities find his car and the body still inside that building. There's no shortage of what they might be able to convict Jimin for. If there was ever a time that you needed another person it would be right now. You should have called Yoongi.

You look up at Jin, “Get rid of it, we just have to-”

“The river-” You stand there, two opposite sides of the same coin both grinning because it's a good plan.

“If we sink it, they’ll never find it.”

A couple of miles away where the floodlights shine, they must knock over something large because you hear the boom and feel the tremble in the earth.

You take everything out of the car first, throwing it into the front seat of Hobi's car. Hobi tries not to think about the items too hard. The sniper rifle, the 3 bulletproof vests, or the ski mask. There's a variety of other equipment underneath the false bottom, arranged perfectly, everything has its spot. An empty tranquilizer gun. Ropes and black trash bags.

The three of you work like a polished team. Moving the car as close as you can to the water Near an old dry dock that flooded, where the soil turns soft and spongy.

It’s hard to push even though you put the car in neutral. the three of you still have to put all your weight into it. Jimin waits in Hobi’s car, parked on the edge. Watching your sluggish procession.

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.”

“Shut up you are not going to die” You snap. The line of the doorframe digs into your shoulder as you push with all your might, putting all of your anger and betrayal behind it because it has nowhere to go otherwise.

Jimin really isn’t helping. Hand pressed over his bullet wound, blood slowly dripping from between his fingers.

Your feet fight against the muck, sliding through it, cold and gross around your ankles. Water soaks your socks.

“Seriously I’m bleeding all over the interior. gonna have to get it detailed after i'm gone.” Hobi picks his head up from the other side, grinning at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve even felt a ghost of a smile grace your face since you got the call. He has no idea how much you need that smile.

“It’s red, won’t stain. Don't worry minnie.”

“Your concern for me is glowing.” He's smiling but Jimin’s hand is knuckle-tight over his shoulder.

“Shut up.” you grind out.

Once you get going downhill it’s easy to push the car, down down down until you hit the muck, knee-deep in the fowl-smelling stuff. You walk with it into the icy water. Hobi’s sweatshirt is so big on you and it billows around you in the brackish water. Weighing you down like an anchor in a storm. You guide the car and the cold water is up to your waist. The car thuds and then shudders, bubbling as you get it deeper and deeper.

"That should be good. Come on."

You think you’re fine until you try to pull away from the side of the car and can’t.

Hobi is already cutting through the water back towards the shore, his back to you. You can’t move, and the car is sinking inch by inch. Slowly dragging you along with it. Some corner of your sweatshirt snagged on the doorframe or hooked.

Your hands move scrabbling. Trying to find the spot at your hip where you’re caught. But you can’t see, the water is so dark you can't even see your hands below the surface. Is it terror or just the cold that makes your hands so uncooperative?

You haven’t even had time to cry out before there is a body behind you, hand closing around the spot where you’re snagged under the water, ripping the fabric with strong hands.

Jin’s hands don’t leave you once he’s untangled you, grabbing your hips and dragging you back, back through the mud and up to the embankment. His hand on the back of your neck, “I’ve got you pup, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Hobi’s already standing up there, soaking wet too. The dust pills on your pant legs and behind you, the car gives one last gurgle. Disappearing for good.

In the dusty darkness, you look at Jin. His gaunt face, soaked with muck like you are. The ends of his hair clumped together, muddy. You blink up at him and he blinks down at you, water in his eyes.

Jimin and Hobi wait, watching you both stand there. Suddenly the gun in your waistband feels too heavy to carry any longer.

Jin closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight like he's waiting for you to shove him again. “Before you yell at me, you should know that Yoongi already knows, about me being an FBI agent. He's known since the beginning."

there is a moment of silence where hobi looks from you to jin. But then You collide with Jin burying your face in the front of his shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat. One bloody hand comes up to touch your hair and cradle the back of your head.

“Pup- we don’t have time, we have to go. Minnie-” You pull back, eyes wet.

“Alright- alright- just- we’ll meet you at home?”

Jin turns to Hobi, nodding. Hoseok stoops, putting Jimin's legs in the back of the car, they're shaking. All of Jimin is shaking. His body is in shock from losing so much blood and from the cold.

“Don’t speed, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over.”

~-~

(Namjoon.)

The inside of the pizza parlor is balmy with the smell of cooking dough, garlic, parmesan cheese, and Jungkook's happy sunny scent. So at odds with the cold outside.

Namjoon watches Tae and Jungkook giggle and act like pups. Heart clenching the way it always does when he looks at the pack. They smell like roses and honey, like spring days far away now in winter but Namjoon can already feel the spring warmth thawing his tiredness left over from work. A haze to the edge of his vision like he's feeling bumble-bee fluff and sucking honey from the air.

Hope is hot and necessary like sunlight, and Namjoon has a whole lot of it for the future right now. and good for him honestly- it's the last easy breathes he's going to have for a good long while.

He can't believe it. You and Hobi. His body gives an involuntary happy shiver.

Yoongi catches it and raises a knowing eyebrow.

The pack is willing to wait here and give you and Hobi a little more time to sort things out. They've given you hours, they'll give maybe one more. They've already taken Tae and Jungkook out for ice cream. Dessert before dinner has both of them sugar high and hyper.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty- there are no glares or looks as they laugh loud and try to imitate a dance, jungkook's phone propped up on a napkin holder.

Namjoon and yoongi don't join in, they just stare at each other. Yoongi looks like he might be a little bit in shock, the scent blooming every few seconds, sweet chocolate cocoa when he thinks of it, and salty worry when he reaches over to check Tae's phone- just to see if you've texted.

Namjoon knows, and so does Jungkook because Jungkook knows everything.

“I can’t believe they actually-” Jungkook snorts, this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s repeated those words, he’s been muttering it under his breath every few minutes for the last few hours, mostly to himself. Jungkook indulges him this time.

“I know- I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for at least another month.”

Jungkook’s hand is nearly permanently glued to the back of Yoongi’s neck, squeezing reassuringly every few seconds. Even as he and Tae giggle and fall into each other, watching back their video on Tae’s phone. Her sparkly phone case catches the light, and little bits of glitter fall and trickle slowly just like the snow falling outside.

Namjoon's thoughts slush slowly.

Namjoon feels settled down to his bones, in that deep-seated alpha way that he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate even if he tried. Nesting tonight is gonna hit so fucking well. Namjoon is going to scent both you and Hobi until he can feel the sex and pleasure on his teeth and tongue, might just need to taste your arousal for himself. He'll be sweet about it and give you a little wiggle room just to put you back in your places. He feels half feral wanting it already. If he's not careful a scenting like that might send Hobi into rut or you into heat.

Namjoon's almost trembling at the idea of it.

God fucking damn it, he's so in love it hurts a little. He’s sure that Yoongi feels the same deep calmness, the sense of rightness, thinking about you and Hobi.

Yoongi’s lopsided grin says It finally fucking happened. Namjoon’s dimpled smile says, I know, I’m surprised we didn’t have to orchestrate it. They don’t have to say it, the soft words would be swallowed up under the music playing over the loudspeaker (the idol group that Jimin guards- their newest hit).

Their knees are nested between each other’s on the too-small table and too-small seats. Namjoon’s big palm on Yoongi’s knee all tight. His hand over the pack alphas, tangling and playing together in a way that Jin would call flirting without words and Tae might call poetic.

The pack took one car to the pizza place, Namjoon's, gathering snow outside. Probably a bad move honestly because Namjoon is on call. The surgery this morning went off without a hitch, clipping aneurysms on a middle-aged alpha usually goes off without a hitch because Namjoon is quite good at his job. If anything happens post-op Namjoon will have to leave them stranded here.

As Namjoon watches something crosses Yoongi’s face that looks a bit like confusion, his hand leaves Namjoon’s to settle on his hip. Eyebrows pulling together.

Huh? Is it the mating mark?

Their food has just arrived, cauliflower pizza for Jungkook, a messy calzone for Yoongi, and his own meat-filled slice when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Namjoon smiles seeing Hobi’s contact, and answers it. It’s you on the line when he picks up.

“Whatever you do, don’t put me on speaker. Don’t react. Just go somewhere where you won’t be overheard by anyone.” Namjoon's smile falls instantly.

Something about your tone has goosebumps rising on his arms. inexplicable, whether it's instincts or just the fact that Namjoon knows your voice and has never heard you sound like this that tips him off he's not sure.

You’re in the back of Hobi’s car, Jimin sprawled across your lap, your fingers stroking down his cheek, your other hand putting pressure on his bullet wound. Jimin lets out these little hiccupping breaths and in the front seat, Hobi’s eyes flick to the two of you. Your pause your call to soothe him, letting him inhale big settling breaths of your scent. Nose and mouth pressed hard to your wrist. Teeth biting down because Jimin needs something to muffle his pained growl.

"Just hold on Minnie, I know it hurts. We’re almost back to the house."

Namjoon hears it, and his whole body goes cold.

You can say many things about the pack, about pack alphas and pack omegas, but listening goes both ways. Namjoon would never dream of disobeying you when you talk like this. Namjoon stands and walks to the door mechanically. Only when he’s outside, cold air swirling around him, does he speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s happened," Namjoon closes his eyes "-and I need you not to tell the others. I need you to come home and leave Jungkook and Tae. Jimin's hurt and we need you.”

Namjoon feels the moment the tense breath in his chest sticks there and he realizes you’re not joking. Jungkook looks up, furrowing his eyebrows at Namjoon in the dark window. The snowflakes falling catch the lamplight around him, dotting his red sweatshirt like the reverse of blood on snow.

There’s a pause and then, “There’s a lot you don’t know, but I need you to hurry.”

Namjoon nods then pauses when he realizes you can’t see. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you sound so serious.

“Do you understand why I’m asking you this Namjoon?”

Namjoon has always been an honest alpha, even when it doesn’t stroke his ego. “No.”

“Because if Tae sees what’s happening, she’s going to need someone to comfort her, and everyone needs to be focused on mini right now.” Your voice trembles, breaking. Below you, Jimin smiles, leaning into your arm. Babbling little and delirious from pain and blood loss.

“Love you so much Tae- wanna be your mate- wanna marry you too if y/n lets me- wanna have your pups."

"Jimin. You are an alpha. You can't get pregnant." Hobi says dryly from the driver's seat, making a very careful left turn that's so slow that it garners a honk from the people behind him.

"But Tae could at least try-"

You close your eyes against the lights of the highway, and across your lap you feel wet soaking into your pant legs. You don't look down, You know it’s blood. It’s so warm, spilling across your knees like sunshine. Bubbling up with every heartbeat.

You don’t know how much more blood Jimin can lose before it’s critical, which is why you need Namjoon.

“-And if Jungkook finds out the stress could make him have a seizure.”

Namjoon is silent on the other end of the line. Completely quiet. Frozen on the sidewalk outside of the pizza place. Above him, the pastel blue pizzeria sign buzzes and flickers. Namjoon inhales the cold air, his exhale coming out warm and steamy visible. When he turns to look inside Yoongi is already staring.

Namjoon must look devastated because Yoongi shoots to his feet. Saying something to the others before he heads out after Namjoon. The bell clinging until he's right there reaching for the phone.

“I’ll see you at home.” You shut your eyes tight. “Bring Yoongi too. I need him.”

The phone in Namjoon’s hands buzzes and when he looks the call has disconnected.

~-~

It's a good thing that most of the snow has melted off or else you’d have a harder time concealing Jimin’s bleeding form as you pull into the driveway. You’re barely outside for a handful of seconds. No curtains move in the shuttered windows of your neighbors. No one is in the cul-de-sac, not even Noodle is waiting for you on the rock wall.

There is no red trail in the snow, just a few drops that land on the dark slate walkway that you’ll clean up before morning. The porch light is off and Your hand leaves a dark imprint on the railing as you rush to open the door for Jin and Hobi, supporting Jimin between the two of them.

But the door opens before you can get to it.

"Joonie!” Jimin's tone drips with false cheer, grinning at the pack alpha and your mate standing just inside the house. As Jin and hobi half drag and half carry Jimin inside and out of sight. Blood dripps down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.

“Holy fuck” your mate mutters. Out of Jin and Hobi and you- you easily have the most blood on yourself. Your pants are soaked through with it and muck from the river, even your hair feels wet and sticky. You must certainly look like a sight, like something out of a nightmare or a bad memory- yoongi can take his pick.

(In truth, the sight of you blood soaked brings up only one other night in yoongi's memory; a night just as tense and pain filled as this. the night you killed Geumjae. This won't be the last time Yoongi sees you soaked in blood either. But at least next time the blood you'll wear won't be the packs and you'll be wearing it as a king and not a pawn).

The drive must have truly taken a toll on him because the second the door closes behind you Jimin’s knees give out and his eyes roll back, passing out as the last bit of energy vanishes from his body. Hobi almost falls with him, but Namjoon and Yoongi are quick to come to his aid.

“Quick- the table.”

Yoongi clears the dining room table with a simple swipe of his hands, sending the bowl of tangerines scattering, rolling like many mini suns across the hardwood floor. They put him down as gently as they can, but Jimin's a puppet with his strings cut. Namjoon swoops in, more trained than any of you, grabbing Jimin’s ankles and holding them up above his heart.

"Come on- Minnie- come on " Namjoon reaches over to tap Jimin’s cheek, gentle once and harder the second time, more of a true slap. Jimin gasps awake, but he’s only half conscious. It’s twilight, his eyelashes fluttering face pale. Mumbling Tae's name over and over again.

"Jin, hold his legs up for me- here"

You’ve never seen Namjoon move so mechanically, so professionally. He's already wearing sterile gloves. His black doctor’s bag cracked open and full of gauze and other medical paraphernalia. The skin around the bullet wound is pinched with blood. Gushing fresh as Namjoon cuts away as much of the tourniquet as he dares with a pair of kitchen shears.

Jimin’s head lolls to the side.

Namjoon lets out a single wet noise. You haven’t heard him cry in so long, you don’t realize that’s what it is until you look at his face.

Your mate’s face is pale and gaunt as he looks at you over the dining room table. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“No- I wasn’t sure what to say, I-” Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Minnie, then up at Jin who looks like he might be about to pass out himself. Holding himself away.

“Who shot him? Did someone corner you? Jin-”

Jin lifts his chin about to confess but before he can Namjoon snaps “Everyone needs to be quiet- please.”

Namjoon places his stethoscope oh so gently to jimin's skin Even the slight action makes Jimin’s face twist in pain. The whole pack is quiet and still, like statues.

The moment passes syrup slow, And Namjoon moves his stethoscope an inch to the left, then the right. Only then does he toss it down onto the floor. Grabbing a sterile towel from his medicine bag and presses it hard over the bullet wound. Closing his eyes and grimacing before he stuffs it, fingers and all into the bullet wound.

Jimin jerks violently, howling, nearly thrashing in pain if it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi and you holding him down. He flails, hitting you in the face knocking you back.

Hobi catches you before you fall. “I’m fine, it’s okay just- help them hold Minnie" your hand over your hot cheek. It will probably bruise- but you don't even care as you watch as Namjoon pulls himself onto the kitchen table, putting his full body weight over the bullet wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“He needs a hospital. We need to pack it and then take him there. He’s lost too much blood.”

"We can’t- all bullet wounds need to be mandated reported.”

It’s not all that large of a hole to be honest. Maybe a finger with on the back side and a little smaller at Jimin's front because Jin shot Jimin at such close range. It’s a threw and threw. Even though Namjoon packed the front his back still leaks steadily.

“But Jimin will live, whatever’s going on-” Namjoon shares a glace with Yoongi Jin, then you- and you watch as it dawns on him. “wait- You do know what’s going on, theres something you're not telling me.”

It's accusatory but you nod while Jin and Yoongi stay placid. Namjoon looks once at Jin again then at you, deciding who he trusts more to correctly gauge the odds.

Namjoon looks at you, waiting.

“If the wrong people find out Jiminie is- that he’s-” you pause, and Jimin grimaces, there is blood on his teeth, in his mouth. “It might not just be him hurt by the end of it.”

“But we can’t just let him die.”

Hobi just stands by the couch, your nest just tousled as you’d left it what feels like a lifetime ago. for the first time that night- hobi breaks.

"Oh my god Jimin's going to die-"

Jin's hands are in his hair, yanking, "Tae is going to kill me-"

“Shut up, no one is dying yet. If he dies on us I’ll kill him myself.” you scoff, holding Jimin’s wrist, his hand. “I won’t even bother with a gun I’ll just..."

You fall silent with a sudden intake of breath. Yoongi's head whips in your direction. Jin too looks up from where he was just bowed, realization lighting his eyes up bright.

The three of you share a look and for a second, the only sound is Jimin's blood dripping. A little faster with every heartbeat. Down the leg of the kitchen table onto the floor in red rivulets.

Drip drip drip.

(What you don’t know about Jin and Yoongi’s tentative agreement is that even though they know about each other- they've still been on either side of this. They’ve never worked with each other, never shared querying glances like this. It's a special secret language that thieves and secret killers share.)

Yoongi follows your line of sight to the kitchen. The knives sit sheathed in the knife block. The same ones that he bought Jin as a fancy courting present years ago. The same one's Yoongi sharpens before he cuts the meat that the pack eats for samgyeopsal and bulgogi and shabushabu.

A sharp cut is an easy cut to fix, unlike a blown-apart cavernous bullet wound.

“No.” Is your first reaction. Even though it was your idea. “It’s too dangerous.”

"It won't work." is Jin's response. Namjoon glances from you to him. He hasn't yet realized what you're talking about. doesn't posess the same finess for bloodshed that the three of you do (the three of you could conquer the world, you just haven't' realized it yet)

"It will work." Yoongi straightens. there are whispers of darkness on yoongi's face. a childhood he doesn't talk about in his eyes. a childhood filled of blood and less kindness than you'd think; for it to have made a man like yoongi; who knows how to be gentle because he's felt every kind of unplesantness there is.

"I've seen it done before. A long time ago but still- it works."

“What,” Namjoon snaps. "Are you guys fucking talking about?"

“There’s another option.” Yoongi’s hands are on Jimin, holding his wrists down. his other hand tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing his bloody cheek. His hands are getting colder and there isn’t much time. He’s quiet for a moment, lips pressed to jimin's skin, before he looks up. None of you want to say what you’re thinking.

“A good stab wound with a larger knife, through and through will disguise the bullet wound. It will stop him from bleeding any more. No one will know that Jimin was shot and we can take him to the hospital."

Namjoon’s scent is sour, sour, and acrid and it makes Jimin arch in pain, face twisted. He still doesn't understand why no one must know that Jimin was shot. Still doesn't understand that it was Jin who shot him. He'll learn later over hospital coffee but for now, he misses the blood-soaked and cut up FBI vest laying in a heap on your dining room floor. No yellow left on it- just red.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting anyone stab anybody."

Jimin’s head lolls on the table. His mumbled words fall on deaf ears. “Stab away….might as well…already stabbed through the fucking heart from Tae" (how could Cupid be so cruel?)

"Joonie look at me." Your hand is on Namjoon’s arm, his shoulder, the back of his neck and he rounds on you. Alpha aggression striking before Namjoon can reign in his instincts. He almost snaps his teeth at you. You don't react at the alpha baring his teeth in your face because underneath it all is the panic of a child, a pup who's terrified he's about to lose his family (a sinking feeling in his gut that says maybe, he already has.)

You understand, you know what it's like to feel that way.

Your voice is so calm and gentle. “Namjoon- you just have to trust me. If we take Jimin to the hospital and if they have a reason to take his fingerprints. There is a very good chance Minnie will go to prison. That I will go to prison- that Yoongi will too.”

Jin blinks, eyelashes fluttering. And Namjoon is silent, Hobi's silent too. All of them watching you. Your hands are steady, and your eyes are clear. The clearest they've ever seen.

“There is a lot we haven’t told you. But you need to trust me.”

It’s then that he spots it. Yoongi’s tone is dark as he yanks the wooden mask out of Hoseok's hands. Yoongi would know those masks anywhere; the one that the family gives its employees. This specific type is to delineate a non-relative. The specific kind is the mask that killers wear.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

You look up at him, “it’s Minnie’s.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves, breath coming quick and fast. “No, it’s not- it can’t be.”

Namjoon’s teeth look particularly sharp when he snaps. “Does anyone but me give a fuck about Jimin right now? Or do you guys only want to pretend that you do?” The rest of the pack watches Namjoon as he ties a new tourniquet. A better one. he can't meet your eyes. quiet and furious as he pulls the knot tight.

“There are too many ligaments in Jimin’s arm, you could cripple him.”

“What other choice do we have?"

“So thats it?” your voice is a shred past hysterical, “we just take him to the hospital and let him go to jail, or let him bleed out and die here?”

The four of you stand over Jimin, on the kitchen table, the spot where you’ve eaten dinner and broken bread and loved each other for the last year. A place of nourishment and love now a place of pain and terror.

You walk three strides to the kitchen and grab the largest steak knife from the kitchen block. Your eyes dark and determined as you stare them down.

"I'll do it if you won't! I'm not letting Jimin go to prison!" you blink tears out of your eyes and there is a moment of silence, a moment where everyone just looks at you.

There is a warm body at your back, a strong chest and long arms that you know circling your waist to pull you back against them. Rubbing soft down your stomach as another comes up to guide your hand. long fingers that curl around your small fist. Grabbing the knife and guiding it, syrup slow out of your grasp.

"There we go" hobi says, words whisper soft.

It's like his words break the spell. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” namjoon snaps.

Namjoon holds the knife and everyone watches as he walks to the pack's liquor cabinet. grabbing the nearest highest proof bottle that he can find and pouring it over the kitchen blade.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it should be me, because I know where Jimin’s joint is.” The pack nods, agreeing. Scattering.

You toss a rag to Jin. “Wipe the gunshot residue from your hands before we get to the hospital. Wipe Jimin’s too while you’re at it. Just in case.”

Namjoon holds the knife in the kitchen. You all have some amount of Jimin’s blood on you and he blinks from the table lucid.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, staring down at Jimin, knife in his hand. “Go outside and warm up the car. You’ll drive because you have the steadiest hands besides me.”

You and Jin and Hobi are silent, everyone just watches namjoon for a second. Yoongi hesitates, turning back in the doorway. "Do it from behind that way Jimin can say he didn't see who stabbed him."

Namjoon nods, looking down.

There is Jimin’s blood on the doorknob and the floor. You wonder who’s going to clean it up.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, and your mate starts, running out the door, leaving it open so that the cold can slip in. Namjoon’s hand tightens on the knife.

Jimin grins up at him from the table, eyelashes fluttering.

"Do it."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

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~-~

Notes:

the line "A faceless god, if you’re going to take so much from him- the least you can do is give me this." is a call back to a line all the way in the beginning of the series where tae writes "the least you could have done was leave me whole" about yoongi.

the beginning feels a little drawn out but honestly i feel like it's such a traumatizing moment that it makes sense. the beginning was one of those cases that i read it so many times i can't tell if its ass or gas- so it's up for you to decide. i like the later parts of the chapter a lot better.

All things said, hobi is taking this incredibly well.

I was such a sleepy bunny editing this this morning! i'm sorry if there are more errors than usual.

ooh they fighting~ this might be a little bit of a /oh shit/ confession- but i greatly belived that the m/c would have killed jin had she thought that he was actually trying to kill jimin for being involved with the mafia like- one wrong move on his part and she might have shot him. they're gonna forget about it and nothing will change between them but god- that moment where he comes around the corner could have gone so bad if she was a little more trigger happy.

honestly i started to hate this chapter halfway through editing it, if there was ever one that i needed you to show love to its this one god 😮‍💨 i never thought i'd feel out of practice writing this sort of thing.

are the funny parts out of place? do they break up the terror too much or just the right amount?

I cannot take credit for the methodology behind how they hide jimin's bullet wound. i will confess this is copied from an episode of Elementary- ie the american version of sherlock. i tried to look it up if you could possibly conceal bullet wounds this way and didn't find anything so you're just gonna have to trust me.

[seeingivy]

it's time to go

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: im sweating.

songs/media mentioned: happiness by taylor swift and it's time to go by taylor swift (not mentioned but name of the chapter!!)

previous part linked here

--

You take a deep breath in as you stand at the shining bright doors of the building, the reflective mirrors at the front showing you your small frame in comparison. You brush down the ends of your dress, ridding your palms of the sweat accumulating as you push through the doors. 

There’s a receptionist sitting at the front, with short black hair who is diligently typing away on the computer. You can see the issue of Vogue, the one the Attack on Titan cast did for season two, placed in a placard at the top of the desk. And when you look around, you see that every Vogue cover you’ve done - the one of you and Sukuna, for your albums - is displayed everywhere. 

Then again. This is a big deal. Surely it’ll be their biggest feature of the year. 

“Alright. Your interview should be up the stairs, in room eleven. They’ll start set-up at twenty and then the interview will start at half-past.” she states, handing you a shiny key-card. 

“Would you happen to know if my request regarding the piano was approved?” 

“I believe so. It should be in the room.” she responds, smiling. 

“Thank you!” you respond. 

You walk up the stairs and find the room, a few workers shuffling around the set. They all give you polite smiles as you walk straight onto the stage, an expensive brown couch on the left and the grand piano you requested on the right. 

You take your backpack off and pull out the box, filled with polaroids all tagged to perfection for your interview, as they all start adjusting the microphones and cameras into place. A shorter, older woman walks up to you, shaking the microphone pack in her hand as she gestures for you to stand up. 

“Hi! Thank you so much for helping me out today. I’m Y/N.” you respond, clipping the pack to the back of your dress. 

“No problem. I’m Leila.” 

You pause. 

“I know you. We-we’ve met before, right?” 

Her face widens in shock as she nods, a bright smile spreading across her face. 

“Yes, that’s right.” she murmurs, voice quiet. 

“It was…god. That was years ago, back when we were doing press for season two. We filmed a video for your daughter, she was asleep and she was a really big fan, right? How is she doing?” 

“She’s doing good. She’s still a big fan of your music.” she says, smiling as she loops the wires through your ears, shuffling your hair behind your ear as she readjusts. 

“That’s sweet. I’m so glad she enjoys it, that-that’s very special to me that she does.” you respond, cheeks warm and something stirring in your chest. 

You take her in full, trying hard to wrack your brain for how she used to look. She’s definitely years older now - five to be exact - but you can’t pinpoint any. No wrinkles, no tiredness - still the same woman you knew. 

But you’re miles away from who you used to be, having aged what feels like eons. You think back to the interview, the compliments you and Eren gave to each other stinging in your mind. 

Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together. 

Y/N. You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.

You’re sure you're crying as you look back at Leila, her eyes wide as she reaches forward to wipe the tears. The deep feeling, the sadness sitting so deep in your chest that you’ve been trying to ignore, is suddenly too overwhelming, too loud for you to swallow. 

“I’m so sorry. Was it something I said?” she asks, her look frantic. 

You take her hand in yours, squeezing three times. 

“No. It’s me. I just remembered that interview. What Eren and I had said to each other and it made me a little sad, that’s all.” you respond, wiping your tears against the back of your hand. 

Her face deflates. 

“I’m very sorry for what happened. To the both of you.” 

You sigh. 

“Thank you. I-I appreciate that.” 

“This industry is not kind. To anyone. And having seen how you two were as kids, how genuine,  it’s sad to see what they’ve said to you both. You know that most of it, if any, isn’t your fault. People- they’re cruel. You’re a very brave girl for still coming here.” 

You swallow hard. And hope she still thinks you’re brave at the end of your interview. 

You sit down on the couch, anxiously tucking the ends of your hair towards the back of your ears, as the interviewer walks in, a bright smile on her face. Leila leaves, giving you a thumbs up as she walks away.

“Y/N. Congratulations. I’m Layla. Thank you for finally coming down for your interview.” she states, taking her seat on the couch next to you as they adjust the microphone in front of her. She has a blue box in her hands, which she tucks behind the couch. 

You don’t miss the snub she makes at you for postponing for months on end. You became a triple threat months ago. And your interview - about your career, about your work - was supposed to happen ages ago. 

“Thank you for waiting until I was ready. I can promise you-you won’t be disappointed with what I have for you. What’s that?” 

“It’s for you. We’re saving it for the end of the interview.” she states, giving you a smile. 

You nod, as you brace your knuckles against your own box, the director coming over to give you both directions and stage you properly against the cameras. 

“Hello everyone! My name is Layla Ray and I’m here with Y/N L/N. After a great deal of anticipation, Y/N is finally here, seated with Vogue, for the infamous triple threat interview. We’re going to go through the highs and lows of her career and ultimately discuss what comes with such a great title. Y/N, how are you feeling?” she asks, giving you a bright smile. 

You swallow hard. 

“Thank you, Layla. I’m doing okay. How are you?” 

“I’m great, thank you for asking. This interview has been a long time coming. Six months to be exact. Any particular reason why?” she states, adjusting her tone to be quieter, matching your tone. You can tell she’s a skilled interviewer - the excitement from before dying down as she brings the energy lower. 

“I-I wanted to be sure of what I wanted to say here. I want to be honest when we talk about my career and that requires self-reflection. I needed the time to do that. And I-I brought things here to share so I had to put those together too.” you state. 

“We’ll go back to the start then. What drew you to the industry - acting, singing, dancing?” she asks. 

You pull out your first picture, the one you ripped off of your wall. The paint is still stuck to the tape on the back, the picture of you, Falco, and Colt at your popstar themed birthday party. Colt and Falco have excited smiles on their faces, a sparkly pink crown on top of your head and your hands are clenched around the microphone, at the bottom. You can hear Eren’s words ringing in your mind. 

Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture. 

“This is me at my fourth birthday party. It was a popstar themed birthday party my parents threw for me. I performed a little show for them and my brothers, did karaoke, the whole thing. I-I saw Hange’s speech a few years later when they became a triple threat and it-it basically cemented this as my dream.” you respond, holding up the picture before handing it to Layla. 

She’s smiling, running her fingers over the picture. 

“This must be a surreal moment. A dream come true.” 

You wish. 

“Let’s talk about Attack on Titan. How did you find out about it, what was it like being cast, and on a set for the first time?” 

“I found out about it through a flier at my coffee shop. I kind of showed up on a whim and did a chemistry read with my co-star. I got the role later that week and was flown out to be with them all. I-I was overwhelmed when I got there at first. I didn’t know much about the set, the terms that you’re supposed to use, they-they had to teach it all to me, like I was a five year old. A fish out of water moment.” 

You nervously walk to the other side of the set, where Eren’s sitting in the makeup chair. The team is brushing through the ends of his brown locks, his eyes fixed on his script in front of him, as he murmurs his lines under his breath. You reach forward and snatch the paper out of his hands and tuck it under your arm. 

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” he responds, eyes wide as he smiles at you. 

“Sorry. Good morning, Eren.” 

He smiles. 

“I was joking. Did you need something?” 

“I have an embarrassing question. Can you come here?” you murmur, cheeks burning pink. 

He quickly hops off the chair, giving a sympathetic nod to the makeup team, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his face close to yours as you talk in hushed tones. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“What’s a hot brick?” you ask. 

“Huh?” 

“Hange. They-they asked me to bring them a hot brick. And when I said what, they were like…You do know what a hot brick is, right? And I got so embarrassed I kind of ran away and now I don’t know what to do.” 

Eren pauses as he registers, which is immediately followed by him smiling and leading you towards the back of the room. He picks up one of the charged batteries of the walkie talkies and places it flat in your palm. 

“A hot brick is a fully charged battery.” 

“Oh. Right. Th-thanks, Eren.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s only like your sixth day on a set. I didn’t even know this stuff until the end of my first movie. You-you aren’t behind, I promise.” 

“Okay. Thanks, I guess.” 

“I’ll help you. Before the rest of the cast gets here. Teach you all the terms and the secrets and stuff. You’ll be a natural.” 

“Really?” 

Eren gives you a nod, the smile on his face drawing your eyes to his dimples. 

“Thank you, Eren. Really.” 

“It’s no biggie. I’ll help you with anything you want. Just ask, okay?” 

“One of our most overwhelming questions that we received was what was it like filming with your cast? Your show - along with Jujutsu Kaisen - were really the first of their types to have such a big child actor presence on them.” 

You smile, pulling out your next three pictures. The first - it's a picture of you and Bertholdt, holding a World’s Greatest Dad mug in front of Levi, who has the most annoyed expression on his face. The second is of you and Historia - tying Reiner’s hair into two tiny ponytails. And the third - you and Marco, hugging each other so hard that your cheeks are pressed together. 

“It was the time of my life, really. I-I went to sleep every night with a smile on my face. They were genuinely such good friends of mine and this experience, these memories - they’ll always be special to me.”

“Do you have a favorite memory?” she asks. 

“Hm. I-we were all kind of immature at that age. I still am. Anything related to dirty jokes, especially when Erwin or Hange were involved is a surefire favorite. Sometimes I’ll remember them and still burst out laughing.” 

The teacher stands at the front of the makeshift classroom, the lazy energy enveloping the room. The warm haze of the summer has the ends of your hair sticking to your neck, the cold desk soothing your burning skin - preventing you from listening to whatever the physics teacher is saying about the solar system. 

You look to your right to find the same sentiment shared by everyone else too. Eren’s eyes are closed, his chin resting against his desk as the sweat rolls down the side of his face. Connie and Sasha are sharing a cold drink between them and Jean’s nearly turning pink as he fans Mikasa - the only one who looks relatively comfortable right now. 

You kick Eren’s leg.

“Hm? What’dya want, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

“Jean is fanning Mika. You could do the same.” you groan. 

You feel a light breeze on your neck as you turn your head to see Eren, leaning against his arm as he fans you with the book. You take it from his hand, giving a head shake as you turn to your side, the two of you facing each other on the aisles. You instinctively place your feet on top of his, the two of you looking at each other. 

“I was kidding.” 

“I know. I don’t mind though. You’re looking a little hot.” 

You smile. 

“Just a little?” 

“Shut up. You know exactly what I think about how you look.” he says, rolling his eyes. 

You bite back your smile. 

“And that’s why the answer is Uranus.” the teacher says, metal pointer smacking against the board. 

You look up at Eren, the two of you so incredulous - from the heat, from being stuck in here for three hours, from how stupid of a word it is - that you both burst out laughing. And then get in trouble together. 

“What the hell was so funny that your teacher had to take you out of class?” Levi asks, arms crossed against his chest as he stares the two of you down, hours later. Hange and Erwin are trying to mimic his intimidated stance, but all you and Eren can do is laugh. 

“Um. You don’t want to know, Levi.” you respond. 

“It’s stupid. We’re sorry.” Eren states. 

“No. No, I want to know what was so funny that you laughed so hard you pissed one of your nicest teachers off.” 

You and Eren give each other a look. 

“It-it’s inappropriate. We’re really sorry, okay? We’ll go and apologize right away.” 

You and Eren stand up, linking arms together as you move to walk away. Except Levi’s moved in front of you two, an entirely different look on his face. 

“Do I need to have a talk with you two?” 

“What?” you ask. 

“A talk. About sex.” 

You and Eren turn your heads to each other, eyes wide. And you immediately start back tracking. 

“Levi. Ew- oh my god. What’s wrong with you? You’re so disgusting. And-and-and a pervert.” 

“Y/N. Do we have to have a talk? Are you being safe? Why are you guys making dirty jokes in class that you can’t tell me?” he repeats, eyes burning into yours. 

“No! Oh my god Levi! It’s not like that.” 

Levi looks back at Hange as you look over at Eren, who's pouting at you. 

“What, Eren?” 

“You don’t have to act like you’re soooo repulsed by it. That’s not what you sounded like-” 

You smack your hand over his mouth, cheeks burning. 

“Eren. Shut up. This is not the time or the place to be bringing THAT up.” 

He smirks, clearly delighted by how embarrassed you are, before pressing a kiss to your palm where you’re covering his mouth. He turns back to Levi, Hange, and Erwin. 

“Levi. We’re sorry. The teacher said Uranus and we thought it was funny.” 

“Uranus? What the fuck is so funny about Uranus?” Levi asks. 

You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from laughing in Levi’s face - his very angry face. Luckily enough for you, you're not the first one to break. And neither is Eren. 

It’s Hange. They’re smacking the back of Levi’s back as they ask him to say it again, the four of you - Erwin having joined you - as you all goad Levi on to say it again. And you laugh so hard that by the end of it, you’re on the floor - screaming for them to stop as Eren rubs circles into your back. 

Your chest twinges, as she hands the pictures back, and you tuck them back into the box. 

“The success after season one of Attack on Titan was pretty tremendous. You guys essentially became house names overnight. How did that feel, especially given your background? Nepotism runs deep and heavy in what we do and you seem to be one of our only outliers, here.” 

“It was horrible.” 

A shocked look spreads across her face. 

“I’m grateful for it all. Don’t get me wrong. But my life changed overnight. I-I went to school and I wasn’t treated as the same person anymore, by people I grew up with. There were people hanging around my school, waiting to take pictures of me, and-and anyone who had a chance of understanding me, they were all miles away. Filming.” 

“Did you feel that often? Comparing yourself to your co-stars?” 

“Originally, no. I-I was just happy to be there. But people, I mean. They talk. It-it kind of cemented that idea in my mind. I didn’t think it was weird that I was the only one who wasn’t filming until someone pointed it out. And-and someone always pointed these things out.” you respond. 

Colt snatches the phone from your hands, an irritated look on his face as he slides it into his pocket. After a six hour phone call with your new publicist and producers - Danny and Sareen - all you could do was aimlessly scroll through social media, their words swimming through your mind as you considered your options. 

“Quit reading that shit.” he says, making an effort to storm out of your room. He hangs by the door when he reaches it, his hands pressed against the frame. 

You shuffle under the blanket, pulling the soft fabric over your head. And a few seconds later, Colt’s pulling it off, expression a bit softer than before. 

“I-I just don’t get why you read it. What’s the point?” 

“I dunno.” 

He slides onto your bed, putting his cold legs next to yours under the blanket as you complain. 

“In my meeting with Danny and Sareen. They-they’re the new producer and the manager that reached out to me. They were saying all this stuff about how I can’t drop the ball anymore. How if I have people paying attention to me now, I-I have to keep it going.” 

Colt frowns. 

“I-I don’t know how this stuff works. What does that have to do with you reading a bunch of people saying rude stuff about you online?” 

“I told them I had time to decide, figure out what I want to do next. They said I should look online and reconsider. That if I want to be a triple threat, I-I should trust them.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah. They-they’re right. And they seem like the type to push me in the right direction, like Levi and Hange. I know they’ll do whatever to help me be the best. They want what I want.” 

Colt shrugs. And you know he doesn’t understand. 

“Let’s talk about season two. You made history this season - by being nominated for Best Actress in a Lead role among many others, becoming the most nominated actress in Institute history in one night. How did that feel? To-to do that so young?” 

“That-that was a win. It came after something really, really intense for me actually. I-I had all these feelings about what it was like to be famous. Building for months. And-and I got them put into words for me right before that happened. It was kind of like going from a really low low to the highest of highs. I-Intense is the word I’d use for it.” 

“Could you elaborate? On that?” 

You swallow hard. 

“Being famous is like living in a fishbowl. There’s-there’s glass in between you, the viewers, and me the person. And it may seem like you can see me, that you and I are the same but the glass is always between us. You enjoy on the other side, smack against the glass, sometimes even put your rods out to wring us out. We-we’re stuck there, that’s all. I realized that and found out I got nominated minutes after. But that’s this job for you. You’re at the bottom one minute and the top the next.” 

Her eyes flutter down to your tattoo but she doesn’t make a point to mention it. 

“Let’s discuss music now. Following winning Best Actress in a Drama Series, your impressive albums and tours started. You released your debut album, followed by lover girl, and then ribbons. This-this was an insane feat on your part - most artists take four to five years to produce albums at this pace. What motivated you during this time?” 

“My manager and my producer are pushing me at every step.” 

She smiles. 

“That’s some support system.” 

“That’s not the word I would use for it.” you respond, voice cutting.

She nods. 

“That’s right. Following your last performance, rumors were flying around that you had fired Danny and Sareen, your beloved manager and producer. Is this true?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why, if I may ask?” 

“I just told you. They were pushing me at every step.” 

You sigh, looking down at your hands, knotting your fingers together. One of the first things, you could come under fire for, is talking about them, so bluntly the way you are. 

“I looked up to them. My previous example from my mentors - Hange and Levi - was perfect. Almost too perfect. Because of them, because of how willing they were to support me, to defend me, I thought everyone was like that. I thought every person who was willing to be on my team was taking into account that I didn’t know much about the industry and pushing me in the right direction.”

“And that wasn’t true for them?” 

You take a deep breath. 

“I think they used that to their advantage. That I had a blind faith in them. That I wanted to please them, to please other people. I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to put out three records, to do world tours that fast. I didn’t know that it was insane that I forgot to eat some days, I didn’t know that it was crazy that they were waking me up after two hours of sleep to put me to work. I-I thought that it was all part of the hustle.” 

“How do you feel about it now? Having fired them?” 

“I-I don’t regret what they’ve done for me. I-I am thankful to them. If anything, I’m more embarrassed of what they did make me do. Why I didn’t think twice on things they asked me to do, songs they convinced me to write.” 

She looks intrigued. She knows she’s getting into the good stuff. 

“Songs like?” 

“London Boy.” you respond. 

“That brings us to Ricky James. Are you saying that you didn’t write London Boy?” 

“No. No, I wrote it. But I was asked to write it the way I did. Write a love song about him.” 

“Because?” 

“Press. It’ll get people to talk. People get bored of the same thing over and over again after years.” you respond, repeating Danny and Sareen’s words, about Eren. 

You sigh. 

“It’s embarrassing to admit that I did that. Pretend just to get people to listen to my music. I-I am ashamed of it.” 

“It’s okay. We-we understand.” 

“I don’t think you do.” you whisper. 

You can feel the tears pricking your eyes. 

“I-I regret it. It’s a horrible thing to do. Especially when, when you have real love and you give it up to pretend. And it’s humiliating to pretend, to see people coo over you and a guy you barely even know. But when you’re famous, when people are telling you this is what you have to do, when this is what everyone does, it doesn’t seem like much to give up. I-I could feel the shame crawling in my skin when I look back at it now.” 

You swallow down the regret, thick in your throat. 

“How so?” 

“The night my album premiered, Ribbons. In the past, all my best friends, they-they’d come to listen with me. Throw me a party, press kisses to my cheeks. I turned them all down that year. It’s one thing to pretend to everyone you know. It’s another thing to do it to people who know better. Who know what you’re doing. I didn’t want to pretend in front of their faces. ” 

“Speaking of that night. Could you speak on this?”

She sides the picture, the one the paparazzi took of you on the curb before Lana got to you, towards you. You pick it up and look at it - at your eyes pinched shut and your drenched hair. 

“It’s simple. Ricky James started liking me. Asked me out. I said no. And then he locked me out in the rain.” 

You see the discomfort spread across her face as she slides the picture back. 

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. But you came out of it at the top, with your hit featuring Lana Price. Was she part of your support system during that time?” 

You smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can’t sleep?” 

You look up from the shelves you were currently pawing through to find Lana, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes, as she walks over to where you’re standing. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted water but I couldn't find the glasses.” 

She smiles as she wraps her hand around your wrist and leads you to the other side of the kitchen, taking a glass out of the correct cabinet and filling it up for you. You both lean against the counter, illuminated by the fridge of the kitchen light in the dark kitchen. 

And suddenly you’re crying again, wet, warm tears falling down the length of your face. At the thought of where you were four nights ago - running in the rain until she picked you up. You aggressively wipe the tears off of your cheeks as she catches on. And Lana, despite this being the second time having met you, is quick to pull you into her arms, the sweet strawberry smell of hers filling your nose. 

“You smell like candy.” 

“Don’t go biting me now.” 

You laugh, pressing against her arms harder as your tears fall onto her shoulder, trying to muffle your sobs by clamping your mouth shut. 

“Eren told me. About Colt.” 

She pulls back, wiping the tears off your cheek as she talks, softly. 

“You’ll get better at doing this. Protecting them. I can almost guarantee it.” she says, giving you a smile. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I did it. Which means you can too.” she responds, placing her glass of water in your hands. 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Yes, it is. I’ll help you. Eren will help you.” she responds. 

“You’re already doing enough for me. Both of you. I’m intruding on your house right now.” 

You feel two hands, warm, around your neck, accompanied with a light squeeze. And then Eren, his voice still raspy from sleep, whispering in your ear. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Say that again and I’ll kill you. What’s mine is yours.” he responds, sliding his hands off of you as he pushes the fridge door closed and opens the light. 

Lana groans. 

“God. Would it kill you to put a shirt on, ugly?” 

“Would it kill you to brush your hair, you hag? Or maybe not wake me up in the middle of the night?” 

“That wasn’t even me. Y/N woke up first!” 

“It was your croaking that woke me up, Lana. You sound like a toad.” he mutters. 

You laugh, which breaks the two of them out of their argument, and has soft smiles spreading across both of their faces. 

“You guys are like siblings.” 

Lana comes over, hands cupping your face. 

“My sweet, sweet Y/N. Please don’t insult me.” 

And then Eren’s behind you, arms slithering around your waist, his voice warm in your ear again. 

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, princess.” 

“Quit flirting, Eren. You’re such a manwhore.” Lana says. 

“Princess was her nickname on set, dumbass. Because she’s a pop princess. I’m not flirting.” Eren responds, 

“Wow. So you’re too good to flirt with Y/N. You think you’re better than her?” 

“What?” Eren asks, leaning off of you. 

Catching on to what Lana’s trying to do, you turn around and look at Eren, trying to hide your coy expression. 

“Do you really think that, Eren?” 

His eyes go wide, hands on your shoulders. 

“No! No, oh my god! I don’t think I’m better than you. If anything, you-you’re better than me. I’ll flirt with you all you want. I swear!” 

You and Lana stare him down for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, a pink spreading across Eren’s cheek as he grumbles, an irritated look on his face as he shoves past Lana. 

“You guys are annoying. I’m going back to bed.” 

“Aw, Eren! Come back! Flirt with her!” Lana says, teasing him on. 

“Don’t stay down here too, Y/N. You’re going to lose brain cells.” he murmurs, shuffling away. 

You turn back to Lana, who's filling your glass with water again. She has a soft smile on her face, eyes warm as she hands you the water. 

“This type of stuff…it really helps.” she says. 

“This type of stuff?” 

“Good people. Who want to take care of you. Make you laugh after you cry, all that cheesy stuff.” 

You hum, leaning against the counter again. 

“Lean on Eren. Don’t get so jumbled up on what it means and how he’s feeling because he just wants to be there for you.” she says. 

“I’m trying to. I guess I just feel bad.” 

“I would have benefited a lot from someone like Eren, if I knew him when I was younger. When I was-” 

You quirk your head to the side, beckoning for her to elaborate. 

“For the longest time, I thought that this is just how guys were. Assholes. Dicks. That it was a matter of finding one who was relatively nice, good enough. That real guys, they’re never like this.” 

You frown. 

“My dad was an asshole. Ricky was horrible. My brother was the only person who was nice to me but we just- we lived so far and with the jobs and stuff we grew apart. And when I had to deal with things on my own, things I was too young to even understand, I-” 

She pauses. Swallowing hard. 

“I would have benefitted from knowing Eren earlier. Guys like Eren, like your friends Jean and Marco. Eren’s helped with a lot of my shame and made me better. I-I owe a lot to him really. I know we said what we said earlier, but he is like my brother. He’s always protected me. Overwhelmed me with kindness under insults.” 

You smile. 

“He’s a good guy. Always has been.” you whisper, heart warm at Eren being Eren, still. 

“So let him. Overwhelm you with kindness. Be there for you. You have no reason to be ashamed. And every reason to be scared. Quit feeling bad and just let him. He’s the person you’re comfortable with here.” 

You smile, leaning your head against your shoulder. 

“Dunno. You’re pretty cool too.” 

She laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know what would be cool. If you guys went to bed.” Eren says, shuffling into the room again. 

Lana groans. 

“All men have is the audacity. You just ruined a really sweet moment.” 

You smile at Eren, which he returns. 

“Can Lana sleep with us?” 

He stops smiling. 

“Huh?” 

“You sleep on the left and she can sleep on my right!” you respond. 

“Y/N.” he whines. 

“Please? It’ll be like a sleepover. I can’t have bad things on my mind before I go to bed if you’re both there.”

“No thanks, sweet girl.” Lana says. 

“I’m trying to lean on you guys! Give in.” you respond. 

They both groan as they agree, the three of you shuffling towards Eren’s room. You settle straight into the middle of Eren’s bed, as they both shuffle around - loudly talking in Eren’s bathroom. 

“Ew, Eren. Why did you just kiss my cheek? I’m not Y/N, idiot.” 

“That was for you, Lana Bear!”  

“What pervert spirit possessed you at this time of night? And you know how I feel about that nickname after what Hyla said to me at dinner, so shut up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lana. And I just wanted you to know I love you too. You’re like a sister to me.” 

You hear Lana smack Eren. 

“Were you eavesdropping? Asshole. I was lying. None of it was true.” 

“Okay, Lana. Sure thing.” 

“I’m serious!” 

You shake the memory from your head, as you pull out the picture for her to see, one of you and Lana that Eren took. You’re both on his couch, your hands tangled in the bowl of popcorn - glaring at the camera. Eren was blocking your rewatch of High School Musical. 

“Speaking of support systems, one of your most talked about relationships is that with your co-star, Historia Reiss. After seemingly dropping songs about each other and making up and breaking up, there’s a lot of speculation on what happened. Anything to share?” 

You smile. 

“Historia and I are friends. And friendship is complicated. You just got to witness ours first hand, that’s all. Everything between us - it’s water under the bridge, if there ever even was one. We’re just really similar and we butt heads. We still love each other at the end of the day.” you say. 

“Well that’s lovely to hear. How about Ryomen Sukuna? The two of you are all anyone talks about these days, especially after how cozy you two were on the red carpet.” 

You snort. And pull out the polaroid - of you and Sukuna, of him kissing your cheek at the awards show. And in the background, Nobara and Maki are pretending to gag. 

“We’re not dating. And we won’t ever. We’re just really good friends.” 

“Friends kiss each other on red carpets?” 

“These ones do!” you respond, smiling. 

She laughs, nodding as you tuck the picture back into the box. She swallows hard, rubbing her hands against her palms as she asks her next question. The one you know she’s been itching to ask. 

“Look. We’ve talked about your career at great length - all but caught up to the night that you became a triple threat. But there’s one person that we haven’t discussed yet, maybe brought up in passing but haven’t broached. Who I think is relevant.” 

You smile. 

“Eren.” 

“Eren.” she repeats, nodding. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“I mean, everything. How did it feel to know that you finally got him back for what he did to you, the way he dragged your career through the mud. I mean you basically had him hanging his head between his knees by the end of the night, after you ended him. Throwing his relationship with his brother in his face, the songs you wrote, I mean- that. That has to be liberating. To do all that and come out as a triple threat at the end.” 

You can feel the tears spilling down your cheeks as you take your last picture out, one of you and Eren at Levi and Hange’s vow renewal. You’re leaning your head on your palm, looking up at him as he smiles down at you. And you swallow the hiccups as you respond. 

“In what world did that night seem liberating to you? Making a joke out of the love I shared with someone? I sobbed my way through the entire last song. Didn’t even make a speech. In what world was that liberating?” 

You see the shock spread across her face. 

“I just thought-” 

You smile. 

“Since we were fifteen, all people have done is speculate about me and Eren. Are we dating? Are we in love? Are we real? Are we faking? And therein lies the issue, because I think the people, the fame - it came between something really real.” 

She stops, nodding. 

“Something real? Are you telling us that Eren Jaeger lied in his interview?” 

“I don’t know his truth. Maybe it was fake for him. But I was there too.....And it was real for me.” 

You look down at the picture, fiddling with it in your hands. 

“I-I’d like to sing my song, if I could. I-I think it’ll help explain how I feel.” you say. 

She nods, gesturing to the piano. You sit at the seat, sneaking out the vinyl sleeve from the inside of the bench and pull it out. The album cover is a picture of the cast from season one of Attack on Titan. You and Eren are front and center, smiling at each other instead of the camera, everyone’s heads going in different directions. Jean and Mikasa are looking at something to the left and pointing, Ymir is smiling at Historia who is disgusted at Connie and Sasha plugging their fingers in each other's nose. 

“This is my fourth and final studio album, called The Lucky One. And this is my first song on the record, called happiness.” 

You brace your hands against the keys, playing the tune into the air as you sing. The feeling sits deep in your chest. Your realization was simple. That Historia’s statement - that your Eren wasn’t the Eren that existed anymore - is true. You just chose to focus on the wrong part of it.

You loved Eren and he made you happy. He burned you down, hurt you in the way that only he knew how, but loved you, made you whole in only the way he could too. There's a deep hurt. 

But there was great happiness. It’s why you forgive him. Why you choose to move forward, and hold whatever love you did have close. 

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

There is happiness In our history Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight Leave it all behind Oh, leave it all behind Leave it all behind And there is happiness 

You wipe the tears off of your face as you turn back towards the camera. 

“Eren Jaeger is the love of my life. He’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. He’s kind, he’s sensitive, he’s all too willing to understand you. Too willing to meet you where you are, as you are, and look past all the bad parts of you.” 

You stifle your sob, the tears pouring out of your eyes. You glance back at the picture of you and Eren at the piano. And the memory sticks out in your head. 

“I love you.” 

You look over at Eren, his green eyes gentle and heartfelt as he takes your hand and squeezes three times. 

“Eren, you-” 

“I love you. The three squeezes - that’s what they’ve always meant.” he whispers, his hand warm in yours as me mimics the motion you’ve done a hundred times. 

You swallow hard. 

“Eren Jaeger is the love in the room. He gives people a chance, even when he shouldn’t. He’s supportive, so incessantly adamant about his belief in you, that you believe in yourself too. He loves hard, he loves soft, and everything in between.” 

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met. Until he wasn’t anymore. And I-I don’t know what they did to him. If they pumped him full of drugs, if they told him something about this industry that I’m unaware of, if-if it was something about me. But this Eren Jaeger, so full of love that it was almost spilling out of him, doesn’t exist anymore. He was real. But he’s not like this anymore.” 

You swallow hard. 

“This career, the way we live in our fishbowl. It-it’s so cruel. You all enjoyed watching me ruin him. You all enjoyed watching him ruin me. You liked that we spent our entire lives loving each other and maybe loved it even more when it came crashing down. It was interesting to speculate on, to talk about. You saw the softest love in us. In him. And then gutted it out of him like he was a fish.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“And with that, I quit.” 

The interviewer sits up, hand on your shoulder at the piano bench as the shock spreads across her face. 

“You’re quitting music?” 

“I’m quitting all of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. You already got to have him. You don’t get to have me too.” 

You give her a smile as you turn to the camera, before walking straight off of the set and into the waiting room outside. 

--

You sit on the bench outside, swinging your legs as you watch the people around you move. They’re all rushing to air the tape, which you expected. And making flash copies of the vinyl you gifted them, getting ready to post them online as the interview goes out. 

Figures. 

The only person who comes to your side is Leila. 

“HI.” you say, cheeks burning from the tears and your eyes swollen. 

She hands you the blue box, the one they hid behind the couch at the start, and shakes her head. 

You give her a strange look as you open up the box, filled with a large stack of letters. You reach for the one at the top, opening the pages to find Eren’s messy handwriting scribbled on the pages. 

Dear The Institute (I don’t know if you’re a person or like someone specific I’m just writing a letter to the address Levi gave me),  My name is Eren Jaeger. I’m fifteen, the son of Carla and Grisha Jaeger. I’m going to be in a new show called Attack on TItan. But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I want to tell you about my friend, my best friend.  Her name is Y/N L/N. She’s going to be my co-star in the show. You haven’t heard of her yet but I promise you won’t forget her. And I’ll make sure you won’t. Because I’m telling you now, she’s the next big thing. And you’re going to make her a triple threat.  I’ll spend this entire time convincing you until you do. But she’s amazing. It won’t take much.  You will hear from me again, Eren Jaeger

You pull another page out, opening up the crinkled pages, the block sitting in your throat. 

Hi (Can you tell me your name? It feels weird to call you The Institute. Like that’s almost dystopian.)  It’s Eren, again. Y/N is going to perform her song, New Year’s Day at the award show tomorrow. It’s her first one and it’s perfect. Like genuinely, who the fuck makes a hit song on the first try?  And even after making something great, she’s trying to be better. She doesn’t like to play the piano, but she tries anyway. Every time I try to teach her, she’s hanging on the ends of my words, trying over and over again until she’s satisfied.  She works very hard. I’m asking you to not overlook that.  See you soon (and when’s your birthday? We’re basically becoming friends at this point.)  Eren Jaeger 

You flip the pages, again. 

Good morning/good afternoon/good evening (covering all my bases, I don’t know where you live),  Now, don’t start discrediting what I’m saying as biased because of the rumors.  Granted, they are true. I adore Y/N with my entire heart. I love her with every fiber of my being. But that doesn’t discredit any of her work or how I’m vouching for it. Because she truly is amazing.  Her new movie is coming out on Saturday and her album on Sunday. Quit being assholes and give her this award already.  She deserves it. Really.  My deepest apologies (for calling you assholes and for bothering you all these years),  Eren Jaeger 

And again. 

Hi,  We broke up. And we don’t really talk much anymore. But the fact that I’m still writing this to you should be proof enough for you to at least CONSIDER her as a triple threat.  Like seriously. We aren’t even dating and I’m still raving about her work (because it’s that good).  Her new movie comes out soon.  She is all things great. The sun, the moon, the stars and everything in between. The light in the dark, every cheesy thing you can think of.  Art is a reflection of who you are. And her art has always been the best.  For the love of god, give in already,  Eren Jaeger. 

And the last one, despite being the shortest one, is what hurts the most. Dated for the day after the awards show, what you assume is barely hours after Eren was sobbing during your performance. 

Dear The Institute,  Thank you for listening. And for making her dream come true.  Best,  Eren Jaeger 

You hold the letters close to your chest as you cry into the box, nearly twenty or thirty pages you still haven’t read. Of Eren, his messy handwriting, and his endless love for you. 

His words ring in your mind. They don’t make any sense and none of it does. You didn’t have any faith in me like I did you. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star.  I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.

You sit up from the bench and walk out the door with the box in your hand. You find Falco and Colt standing on the curb against the car, soft smiles on their faces as they push you into the car. And take you where no one gets to touch you, suck you dry, push you too hard, take what you love most away from you ever again. 

Your most haunted memory sticks out to you as you drive away. As you feel the physical weight of this life be left behind on that piano and let him go. 

The waves continue to crash, Eren’s hand raking through your fingers as you both look up at the moon, shining above you. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, Eren?” 

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?” 

You curl your nose in disgust. 

“When would I have time to go skinny dipping, Eren? And if I did, you would have known.” 

Eren turns on his side, a bright smile on his face. 

“Let’s do it.” 

“What?” 

“Skinny dipping.” 

“Eren. Quit being ridiculous.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“I just turned twenty-two. Like fifteen minutes ago. I am the pinnacle of seriousness.” he states, putting on his best Erwin-like tone. 

“Eren.” 

“Come on. It’s like a quintessential experience. We don’t get those - prom, memorizing your crush’s classes and waiting outside them, going on a date in the city. Let’s do this one.” 

You nod as you both trudge to the shore, hands locked together as you quickly lose your clothes and run into the water, biting cold against your skin. The Seattle cold does nothing to help, the two of you shivering in each other's arms as you hold each other in the water. 

“Ttt-this was a sss-stuppid idea, Er-rren.” you shiver, glaring at him. 

“It-it’s ff-un.” he responds. 

You groan as he pulls you into his arms, your face flat against his neck as you guys hug in the water. You can feel his heart beating under your ear and you pull back to find him smiling at you, his hair matted against his forehead. You reach forward and push it out of his eyes. 

“Thanks.” he whispers. 

You nod, giving him a smile. He’s all but grinning at you, the smile on his face so big that it’s throwing you off. 

“Eren. What?” 

“Nothing. You.” 

“Me?” 

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Just trying to remember this moment. You and me - being real people.” 

“You sound like a crazy person.” 

“You’re not a pop star. I’m not an actor. You’re Y/N and I’m Eren. We’re skinny dipping. And I love you.” 

You turn your head to the side, confused by his sentiment all together. 

It makes sense to you now. 

--

Almost a year and a half later and you’re nervously running your sweaty hands against the pleats of your black dress. You half debate walking in, even though you flew all this way. If there’s still a place for you in this townhouse, even though you all but grew up here. 

You can hear a loud chatter on the inside, voices talking over each other as you think hard, every regret of yours running through your mind. You wonder if they replaced you already, if your doppelganger is walking around in there.

As always, this is what brings you back to them. All of them. And you hate it. Because as always, they are the only ones who understand. They are the only ones who feel it too. 

You’re fish. On the same side of the glass, separated from everyone else. 

You supposed that’s what it does to people. That being fish, to some extent, was something everyone related to - not just you and Eren, Mikasa and Jean, everyone else who was famous.

This tears down things that were a resolute fact - bringing you to places you never thought you’d return, to people you didn’t think you would ever need anymore. A fishbowl - separating you from everyone else on one side of the glass, with everyone else - normal and whole - on the outside.

Fame can do that to people. But grief can too.

The news clip rings in your head. 

. 

. 

. 

Marco Bodt, best known for his time as a recurring character in the drama series Attack on Titan, died on Friday, five days short of his twenty-fourth birthday. 

You brace yourself and knock on the door of the townhouse. Eren’s the one who answers.

--

next part linked here

an: lol. so does "passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long" still apply if he's dead....thoughts? also the lucky one tracklist

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[obae-me]

Random Sibling Headcanons

I'm a wee bit sick, which is why I've put my more serious projects on a very short pause. That being said I still feel the need to write something, so why not get some ideas out in the form of little fun ideas? Featuring colored names this time because it's fun for my brain.

These are just some little headcanons I like to think the brothers have done, since I love thinking of their sibling/ at-home relationships with each other.

In the picture of Lucifer's office, he seems to have stairs heading up to a second-story loft of some sort. I've always imagined he has a "Pride" wall somewhere up there filled with memorabilia of his brother's greatest or proudest achievements. There's some photos, art pieces, awards his siblings gave up on keeping, etc. His brothers know about it but hate it, so they all never speak of it.

Mammon and Levi once both badly injured their hands, trying to outdo each other high-fiving. You know where you try to get that perfect smack and hurt the other person's palm? Yeah, like that. They whiffed it on the first try and had to do it again and just couldn't stop after that.

Belphie usually puts small portions of his dirty clothes into his brother's hampers so they can clean his clothes for him without them realizing. It drives them all wild having to sort it out each time, and Belphie thrives off of it.

One of Satan's favorite pranks was to quickly run around the whole house and use up every hot water source he can while Lucifer was taking a shower so his water turns ice cold while the eldest is still in it. It got to the point where Lucifer is actually fine taking cold showers now.

If a bunch of them are in the same room and one of them gets a call from Lucifer, the others will suddenly try to sound like something horrible is going on, more often than not trying to incriminate the person who picked up the phone, blaming them for some false scenario that never happened.

If Belphie gets woken up too many times in the same day, he'll find ways to wake his siblings up in the middle of the night. Once he managed to get into all their phones and set annoyingly loud alarms, another night he cursed the piano in the music room to play until morning. Now the brothers have an unspoken rule not to wake their youngest sibling up more than four times a day.

Asmo likes to barge into his siblings' rooms sometimes unannounced with his D.D.D. while he's live on Devilgram or Deviltube. He loves to catch his brother's doing something stupid, it's hilarious. Sometimes he's not even live, he's just recording so he can keep videos to laugh over later.

They trade chores often, much to Lucifer's frustration, but everyone has some chores they absolutely can't stand. They've even somehow come up with a bartering system of sorts. Laundry = 1 other chore like dusting, but something like Dishes = 2 chores like taking on laundry and vacuuming.

None of them have ever missed one of Beel's games. They always show up and sit in the same spots so Beel never has to look around for them in the crowd. Lucifer brings the bag of supplies and snacks should his siblings need it. Because they always end up complaining about something by the end of the night. Mammon always brings his megaphone that almost always gets in him trouble every time. Levi gives his brothers all glowsticks. Satan always secretly has tricks up his sleeve to use against the opposing team should any of them come close to harming Beel (although that's nearly impossible, but he has them as a precaution). Asmo made everyone the most beautiful signs to hold. And Belphie brings everyone blankets since it can get chilly in the stands. He also brings a big lunchbox of snacks for Beel to eat right after the game even though they always go out to eat right after.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi as the three eldest are used to giving their younger siblings things they no longer need. The younger four have plenty of hand-me-downs but more often then not, they don't really mind. Lucifer gives out anything he's not overtly a fan of which can be anything from books to cologne to jewelry. Everyone has a few old things of his. Mammon gives out a bunch of clothes quite frequently. Despite his greed, his room can only hold so much, and so he usually goes through a semi-regular purge. Anything his brothers don't grab he sells. Levi gives out old electronics since he upgrades to the newest stuff as soon as he can. Because of this, Satan owns a pair of cat-ear headphones.

On a trip to the human world once, Asmo bought Belphie one of those electronic toothbrushes that play a song in your head while you brush your teeth so the youngest no longer falls asleep during brushing. Yes, it was a Brittany Spears one. (Does this date me? Maybe. Do they even make those anymore?)

Mammon and Asmo have both sat Beel down and tried to give him a basic course on recognizing flirting to keep their younger brother from being so totally oblivious, but no matter how many times they try, he never notices. However, now if Beel is ever given a random phone number, he knows to take it to either of those two to sort it out for him.

Once, for Belphie's birthday he received the ugliest quilt made from little squares from his brother's t-shirts, pillowcases, robes, etc. They all worked together to sew it up and it's very, very obvious who did what parts. Belphie says he can't stand the awful thing but sleeps with it every night.