#make it into a little vent-y series

[ginervacade]

Honeybee and Ladybug

Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: The Grid Kids wonder why Seb and Reader decorate with Bees and Ladybugs. The answer? Jenson Button and Y/N is a sap. Seb just loves his wife.

Warnings: none that I can think of? There’s a tiny, skippable period joke ( as is customary to this blog)

Author’s Note: My first attempt at RPF! ( it took forever because I was being a chicken about it lol.) I was wanting to use “little ladybug” as a pet name in some sort of writing and the Jenson Button girlie in me said “ I have an idea!”

SECOND, MORE IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE: This fic is heavily inspired by the lovely @pucksandpower and her ADORABLE Grid Kids series. ( particularly Gentlemen: A Short View Back To The Past) I did change the reader’s past occupation Go read her series, it is the cutest thing ever and you will giggle the whole way through!

Onward to the fic!

*****

“ Mom?” Lance said as Y/N sat back down on the couch, watching as she pulled the little pillow into her lap and held it close.

“ What’s up babydoll?” She replied, smiling as he leaned in toward her from his spot in the floor. There were plenty of chairs, she noticed again as she ran her fingers through his hair, yet he always seemed to prefer the floor. She suspected it had to do with being able to stretch out and move around, as Georgie and Lando sometimes did the same.

“ This is not me saying I don’t like it, it’s very cute,” Lance began and Max chuckled, mumbling something along the lines of “This should be interesting.”

“ What’s with the insects theme in your decorating?” As if to prove his point he gestured to the little pillow she held, which was embroidered with a little bumble bee and a lady bug.

Now that the rest of the boys thought about it, they were sort of everywhere. Canisters in the kitchen for Seb’s coffee and Y/Ns tea were a honey bee and ladybug respectively. There were nature photographs of the two on the bathroom walls. Charles remembered the guest room being all done up in bees and ladybugs too. Y/N had a vent clip in her car that was a sparkly ladybug. The key hanger by the door was a pair of flowers and she and Seb had matching key chains of the two insects that slotted into place to light on the flowers. Her favorite blanket, old and worn out by now, the one she wrapped around them all whenever they were feeling overwhelmed, had ladybugs on it too.

“It’s not just insects though Lance,” Mick pointed out.

“ It’s always bees and ladybugs,” said Lando, then the realization seemed to dawn in his eyes, “ Wait, do they represent you and Seb?”

“ Yep,” she replied, smiling fondly at her husband.

“ Aaaw, that’s cute!” George cooed.

“ I get the bees for Seb, everyone does that, but why are you a ladybug?” Charles piped up.

“ Haven’t you guys ever heard Jenson call her “ his little ladybug”?” Max asked, making air quotes around the phrase and mimicking the retiree’s voice.

There was a chorus of laughter at that.

“ You boys up for a story?”

****

“ Why do you always wear dresses to media days?” Jenson asked, looking her up and down in confusion. She was in a short dress, tight at the top and flowy at the skirt, and a simple pair of black heels. Her hair was back, the ends curled and adorned with a large blue bow that matched the dress. She had on pink lipstick. Every media day she showed up looking like this put together little lady, it kind of drove him insane.

“ I just like them. I like feeling pretty.” She replied simply, shrugging her shoulders.

“ You like making me look bad is what it is,” Jenson laughed, gesturing to his jeans and team kit.

The next morning when she walked in for quali day in a red dress with black polka dots Jenson rolled his eyes. Tossing an arm over her shoulder he cheerily announced, “ Good morning my little ladybug. Let’s get a 1-2 today, yeah?”

Y/N giggled a little too much for Sebastian’s liking, leaning into the touch, the bridge of her nose turning pink as she mumbled something like “ That’s always the goal, isn’t it?”

Sebastian hated the little schoolgirl, hero worship crush Y/N didn’t seem to realize she was harboring for her teammate and mentor.

Looking up to him he’d understand. He’s older and more experienced, he looks up to him too. But Jenson is also Jenson Button. Tall, charming, conventionally attractive, but a known playboy and flirt. Sebastian thinks Y/N deserves better than to fall for all that.

***

“ Oh shut up, I did not,” Y/N says, blushing.

“ You definitely did, love.” Seb’s grin has the boys giggly too, “ Does it help knowing I was very jealous?”

“ A little bit,” she concedes, still blushing, leaning into Seb’s side earning Aws and coos from several of the boys.

“ The crush only lasted about half a season, but the name stuck.”

“ And spread like wildfire through the paddock,” Y/N agreed.

****

In Brazil when they did Secret Santa she smiled as she read the little note.

To our little ladybug, since you’re always cold.

“ Oh I love it!” She said, running her fingers over the ladybug adorned blanket. “Seb look, it’s so cute and so fuzzy!”

“ It is.” He said.

She giggled again, then on impulse “ like your hair,” she said, messing it up to make him turn that adorable shade of pink.

They missed the fond smiles they were getting from Micheal and Mark.

****

“ Then half the grid picked it up.”

“ You boys have probably heard more than Jenson use it, just without the possessive marker so you didn’t notice. It used to irk me that he said my with it.” The word sounds icy in Seb’s mouth even now.

“ It was just his name for me originally. Was someone a little possessive, hm?” Y/N teased.

“ Absolutely,” Seb replied, with no shame, “ I did not like anyone else trying to claim my girl.” This gets more giggles and a wolf whistle out of the boys.

“ We weren’t together yet honey,” Y/N said, confused smile on her face.

“ Liebe, I was pining long before you knew.”

Mick, George, Charles, and Lando all awed some more.

“ Like a bee for pollen?” Max joked to a chorus of groans.

“ Actually I do think I’ve heard Nando say it,” Lance said, remembering how Alonso had pecked her on the cheek last time she’d been in the paddock with a “hola mariquita.”

“ Rosberg too,” agreed Charles.

“ And Webber,” Lando added.

“ Lewis too,” George and Mick said at the same time, recalling multiple “ hey there Ladybug! Missed you”s whenever she entered the Mercedes garage.

“ It was cute till Jense devolved it,” Y/N said with a fond eye-roll.

“ Devolved?” Mick asked, peering up at them like a confused puppy.

Seb just laughed.

“ Oh please, you still adored it. He just wanted to have his own special nickname for you.”

“ But I swear it was like he forgot my actual name for a whole season!”

“ That’s true, everything was Bug.” Seb conceded.

“ Easy on the breaks in turn 4, Bug.” She said in a dramatic but better than Max’s impression of the former world champion. “ Where are you going, Bug? Stop staring, Bug. Focus, Bug. Bit understeery today, Bug.”

“ Oi! You’re bleeding, Bug.” Seb added with a chuckle.

“ Oh I about killed him for that! Could you yell it a bit louder Jense? I don’t think the Ferrari garage in Albert Park heard you!”

“ Oo,” George winced, he and Max the only two who seemed to understand. Y/N just laughed.

“ Really though, every sentence. Why’s your hair down, Bug? Ask him out already, Bug! We’re gonna get a 1-2 today, Bug!”

“ Then I made one comment about Bees dying off.”

“ And I called you Honey, exactly one time, and Micheal ran with it.”

“ Honey Bee and Ladybug.” Seb squeezed her shoulders, “ and the rest is history.”

[revelboo]

I've never been so sucked into a Megatron fic as I have been by your Broken Arrow series. I'm really interested to see if y/n will break and how Megatron would handle it if they did! It's very exciting!

I do love playing with tension. 18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

Broken Arrow Pt 12

TFP Megatron x Reader

• “Don’t,” you growl the word at him, shoving at his arm as he drags you back into him so he can curl around your much smaller form. Hating that you don’t hate this contact. Especially as he slowly wraps the length of your leash around his palm and vents against the back of your neck. Knowing you’re not getting away from him until he lets you and trying not to think about what you’d done with him or that you’d enjoyed it. Because nothing about this should be okay to you, but there’s still that part of you that had actually been scared for him when he’d been injured. That had warmed at his teasing and taunts despite yourself. That knew he could have hurt you so many times, but no matter what he says, those sharp claws are always so gentle like he’s afraid of breaking you. Despite biting you.

• Finally, you relax against him, your back to his front. Giving up after realizing he’s not letting go. Maybe biding your time hoping he’ll slip into recharge and turn you loose. Still not realizing that he’s never letting you go now. “We don’t need to be enemies,” he murmurs, servos sliding down over your hip and you grab his wrist when he slides lower to cup you. “As lovely as your anger is, I like the way you look out of control, too.” Stroking you, he feels your fingers tighten on him, but not even trying to pull his hand away. Enjoying his touch no matter how you balk at it, as you rock yourself against his palm. Wanting to hate him, but you can’t, can you?

• Those sharp denta brush the shell of your ear, nip at the lobe and those awful servos keep playing with you, lazily exploring. And when you shift against him more on your hip and lift your thigh, he immediately tunnels a servo inside you, mindful of those claws. Out of control? He has no idea. You’re still clinging to his wrist as he slowly fucks you with that servo, pressing your head back against him as you go taut. Hating when you begin rocking your hips against his hand, needing more friction and he chuckles against your hair. He’s still got your leash and you can feel that breathless pull that he’s bound you with when he’d forced your fingers into contact with his spark. But if he has your leash, you have his, too. He’s growling against you, servos petting as you slicken for him. You can feel his spike against your butt, pulsing and hot as a brand. As affected as you are. “More,” you whimper, straining against his hand and swearing when he pulls it away in response. Denying you. Teasing.

• Laughing at your frustration, he shifts your thigh up enough that he can find you and bury himself inside you, groaning against your neck at how tight you are like this, listening to your breathy little noise of pleasure. Feeling you grip his spike. “Patience,” he growls, lips brushing your cheek. “Isn’t this better than fighting me every step of the way?” Moving deliberately to rock himself slowly against you and stroking deep. Palm sliding up to rest against your chest, against the frantic beat of your heart.

• This is a new form of torture, thrusting almost lazily against you in no real hurry when you just want to reach that peak again. But his words twist through you, because you could submit and enjoy this. Enjoy him. Because even if he grumbles about it, he listens to you, seems to care about your opinion. Would it be so bad to surrender and sit by his side? Spend your nights in his berth and your days pulling at his leash, trying to curb his worst impulses? “Make me,” you whisper and his servos tighten on you as he snarls.

• Stubborn brat. Rolling you partially under him, he begins to move faster against you, driving deep again and again. Because that rebelliousness unravels his control. Make you? Those little noises of need you make spurring him on as he ruts against you. “You’re mine.” If it takes all night, he’s going to get that through your head. You come undone against him, crying out his name as you fist his spike in wet, silken heat. And he keeps moving against you until he’s sheathing himself deep to release inside you. Hips rocking to drag it out for both of you. “Say it.”

Previous

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[widowmaxff]

bad day

pairings: wanda maximoff × fem!reader

warnings: angst (with happy ending), arguing, reader crying, depressed reader — I think that's all!

When you heard your front door slam shut, you knew Wanda had a bad day on work today. This was actually normal for the two of you, you talk to her and she tells you about the time at the place, having your help so she calms down and everything is okay. And that always worked, you usually ended those days eating pizza in bed while watching your favorite series on TV.

The redhead mumbles loudly as she walks with strong steps, throwing the keys on the living room table where you were, without even saying hello. You get up from the couch quickly, soon following your fiancée up the white staircase to finally reach your shared bedroom. Your gaze reaches Wanda, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands on her face and her elbows resting on her knees. You calmly approach the redhead, thinking of words of comfort for her.

"Wands, are you okay?" You ask, making her laugh ironically before raising her face towards you, which was red, but you didn't know if it was from anger or from running tears.

"What do you think?" You swallow hard at the stiffness in her voice that would normally be sweet and calm. "Don't be an idiot, Y/n. Obviously I'm not okay." You contort your face at those words that came out of your bride's pink mouth. She rolls her eyes when she sees the expression on your face, getting up and going to the closet in your suite.

"Wanda, I was just trying to help you. You don't need to take out your anger on me because you have nothing nice to say to me." You follow behind the girl, who mumbles when she hears your words, but receives only silence in return. "Baby, you can talk and vent to me, you know that. We always do this when you have a bad day."

"For God, Y/n. Just leave me alone, okay?" She shouts in your direction, making you startle and take a step back. "Stop wanting to be an annoying, poor attention-seeking person all the time! Why don't you do something useful instead of getting in the way, hum?" The redhead shoots.

"What the hell! Can't I have a day where I can have a little space?" You feel your throat close as you hear all those hateful words directed at you. Your breathing became unregulated and you felt a great burning sensation in your eyes. Wanda had her fists clenched as she waited for something to come out of her mouth.

"Cat got your tongue now?" She takes a step forward, but you step back, afraid of her. Your fiancée's eyes get darker when she sees that you weren't feeling safe being around her, this wasn't normal.

Wanda knew that you were very insecure about yourself, having thoughts about always disturbing other people's lives and when she talked about you doing this and being annoying, her heart seemed to break into a thousand pieces that would take a long time to put back together. Her speech repeated in your head as you thought about what to say to your fiancée.

"I..." Your lips tremble, almost letting out a sob in the middle of his speech. "Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you." A solitary tear falls from your eyes, making Wanda feel guilty, but her jaw is still clenched. "I'll be in the guest room if you want to talk... or anything else. I will leave you alone. Sorry, Wanda." You turn on your heel as you poke your fingers to ease the nervousness.

Walking out of the room towards the other, trying to hold back the crying sobs that were coming out of your throat. You normally didn't cry in front of your fiancee, you hated doing that, but when she shot those words at you it felt like mean people had put pepper in your eyes and you were trying not to care about it.

When the door to the guest room was locked, the air you were holding in your lungs was finally released, along with the tears trapped in the corners of your eyes. You disturbed people. You were annoying. It was what was repeated in your mind by several voices, but the worst of them was Wanda's, the person who made you want to live every day, but at that moment you just wanted to die and maybe never get in anyone's way again. She never yelled at you or made you feel what you felt now, so the pain felt more unbearable than it already was.

You felt your legs go soft and fall onto the double bed. Your body came together, almost as if you were giving yourself a hug. Placing your left hand over your mouth so that the noises of your crying wouldn't be heard and wouldn't bother Wanda's bad day even more. Your eyes were so tired and red, it felt like the water hadn't stopped falling for so long that you allowed yourself to sleep without your bride's cozy arms.

When morning arrived, you thought about not leaving your room, not even getting out of bed. But despite everything that had happened, you longed to talk to the redhead again, to apologize again. So, when you heard the click of the lock, you took a deep breath and stood in the large hallway of your house. You walked down the stairs towards the kitchen, smelling your favorite breakfast. The red hair was the first thing you saw when you entered the room. Her back was turned as she prepared something on the stove.

Wanda seemed to sense you in the kitchen, quickly turning to look at your swollen face from last night's crying. She sighed deeply before walking up to you and looking into your eyes, which she adored so much. "Can I hug you?" She asks, you clearly agree.

The basis of your relationship was consent, due to some past traumas and insecurities. When she puts her arms around you you feel your body relax into her touch. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't want to say those words... I had a bad day and I know that doesn't justify anything, but I swear I regret every word I said to you."

You don't say anything, because if you said something, you would probably burst into tears again and your eyes were so sore that it was tiring to leave them open. "I know you won't forgive me right away, but know that I love you so much and I regret it so much. You're nothing like I said..." Wanda rambles. "on the contrary, you are the most amazing person to be around. The sweetest person who certainly shines with kindness wherever you go. You would never, ever get in my way, darling." She continues whispering beautiful words to you, making your heart soften at her words. "I love you, never forget that."

"I love you lots too." You finally say, with a hoarse and low voice. "I forgive you, Wanda. But promise me one thing?"

"Whatever you want, my love."

"Promise never to yell at me again? Please." Your voice falters a few times in the short sentence, making Wanda want to beat herself for making you suffer.

"Oh Love. I promise, of course I promise." She looks you in the eyes, caressing your rosy cheeks. "I swear on everything I will never do that to you again." Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before placing a small kiss on your forehead. You nod at her, faithfully believing her words.

"How about we eat your favorite breakfast now, hum? I don't want to see you with that sad face, I want to try to reward you by making your hunger go away." You laugh before firmly cupping Wanda's face and placing a smacking kiss on her pink mouth. Your day certainly got better when you felt your bride's lips and it will be much better when you enjoy every moment with the love of your life.

[illiterateaffairs]

don't thank me | stiles x reader

masterlist

pairing: stiles stilinski x f!reader (best friend/witch) + allison friendship :)

word count: 836

warnings: none!

summary: set in season 1, stiles decides to thank allison for getting lydia to go to the winter formal with him

author's note: the first of hopefully many shorter drabbles that follow stiles x bestie/witch!reader throughout the series that live in my newly minted 'every little thing' universe. i startd a masterlist linked above and will order them how i envision them taking place, and anything that veers off in a different direction will be labled "alternate endings". lmk if any of this makes any sense anyway enjoy and pls tell me what you think!!

“Allison, hey,” Stiles pants, walking up beside her with a pile of dresses in his arms.

She chuckles, watching him struggle to hold the clothes, “Having fun?”

“Yeah, the time of my life,” he jokes back, setting the stack down on a table beside them.

The two of them were shopping for the winter formal, along with you and Lydia. It had been less than an hour since he had learned that Allison had gotten Lydia to agree to go with him, and yeah it may have been because she owed her for making out with Scott behind her back, but that still meant he had a date with the girl he’s been crushing on since the third grade. 

He thought he'd be more excited, but he’s chalking it up to the nerves and disbelief. Definitely not because he’d started questioning his supposedly platonic feelings for his best friend. 

As he watches Allison browse the dresses on the rack in front of her, he can’t help but be interested in how she’d gotten Lydia to go along with this. 

He clears his throat, “Um, so I guess I should be thanking you for setting this all up. I mean, I know it was because Lydia owed you, but you didn’t have to do this for me...”

Allison gives Stiles a small smile as she interrupts him, “I appreciate your appreciation, but I can’t take all the credit.”

He furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t really my idea as much as it was Y/N’s.”

Stiles is taken aback by this information, “What- Y/N’s?”

Allison nods, attempting to go back to nonchalantly looking at dresses, “Mmhmm. I was venting to her about the whole Scott-Lydia thing, and she mentioned how much it bothered you too, so…she suggested a way for Lydia to pay me back by also giving you a shot.”

After a few moments of silence, Allison turns her head and see’s Stiles staring blankly into space and has to hold back a laugh. “So, you should really be thanking her, not me.”

Stiles stutters and looks down at his hands, trying to figure out why this piece of information is bothering him, “What, uh, made her suggest that?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact you’ve been obsessed with Lydia since you guys were kids? So she tells me,” Allison murmurs, “I mean that's true right? You like her?”

“Lydia? Yeah of course, I mean what's not to like?” He stumbles, still not making direct eye contact with the brunette.

“Because if you’d rather go with someone else, you don’t have to…”

“Who else would I go with?” Stiles asks, finally looking up with his eyebrows pinched.

Allison shakes her head with a casual shrug, “I don’t know. You should go to formal with someone you really like.”

Stiles makes a face, “Do you really like Jackson?”

Allison rolls her eyes, “As a friend, yes.”

Stiles rolls his own eyes and looks away again.

“And you really like Lydia? Just Lydia?” Allison continues.

Stiles gives her a glance, wondering why she’s asking. “Yes…Lydia’s the only one I’ve ever liked.”

Allison hums. “Good. Then we’ll all have a lot of fun at the dance together.”

Stiles nods and gets lost in thought again. On the one hand, it makes sense why you, his best friend, would come up with a way for him to get a dream date with his crush. On the other hand, the idea of you so easily setting him up with someone else hurt his stomach. 

He doesn’t get the chance to unpack that further as Lydia stomps up behind him, asking him to bring the dresses he’d collected for her to the dressing room. He internally groans, picking the stack back up and following her to said dressing rooms.

As Allison watches them walk off in amusement, you appear on her other side. 

“Black or silver?” You ask, holding up two sets of heels. You watch her stare pointedly at you instead of answering, “What’s that face?”

“You’re still really going to stand there and act like you’re fine with Stiles going to the formal with Lydia?” 

Your shoulders slump, “I told you to let it go - and you already went through with it, too!”

“Doesn’t mean I agree with it,” Allison sighs, “I don’t see how watching Stiles on a date with someone else is meant to help you move on if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

You shrug, “It makes him happy, that’s what matters to me.”

Allison inwardly rolls her eyes and goes back to the racks, “You’re both idiots.”

“What was that?” you ask after hearing her mumble.

“I said you’re a lovable idiot,” Allison grins at her.

You snort, and shove her lightly, “Silver or black?”

“Black,” Allison finally answers and you nod in thanks, turning to go buy your shoes.

Allison shakes her head watching you retreat. 

Loveable idiots, the both of you. And one day you’ll both stop denying it.

author's note: in my head allison and stiles were best friends and deserved more scenes, so she is also besties with the reader because thats my best girl <3

[samoankpoper21]

Drunken Confession - Suna Rintarou

Summary: Suna's best friend is going on a date. How will he react?

Content warnings: cursing, suggestive smut, alcohol use...can't think of anything else

A/N: Y'all I have been stuck on Suna for quite some time now, it amplified more after reading this one fic where he's a tattoo artist who pines over his plus size friend and the way the author wrote him is exactly how I picture him and it was just truly a work of art aslkdfalkdsj I've posted the link so please check out their work!! So good! Anyway I decided to do a slight twist to my drunken confession series^^ this time it's you receiving the confession^^ As always reader is chubby!/poc! and switches between using the Kansai accent. Enjoy~!!

"I always thought you and Rintarou were gonna be a thing." You nearly spit out your water at your mom's declaration.

"What the hell mom."

"Whaaat I'm being serious. He's a nice boy. It drove your dad and I crazy watching you two dance around each other. To this day it's still driving us crazy! When are y'all gonna get together?" Chuckling you remind your mom, "Have you seen his exes? They're all skinnier than me and besides back in high school I mean I knew I looked good but I don't think he would've wanted to date someone who's way darker than him and heavier than him."

"Now you're just playin' stupid."

"Oh geez thanks mom."

"Your dad and I see the way he looked at you back then and now. He got a thing for you honey so why not pursue it?" You began to chew on your bottom lip. The thought of being with Suna has crossed your mind numerous of times. From the moment you two met in high school ungraciously - he approached you asking how much you weighed because you were now his motivation for his weight lifting pr - til now you found him attractive, even more so with the addition of his tattoos and piercings.

"I don't know ma, I literally came over here to vent to you about how boring my date was."

"You know how you could get over another man?" your dad quipped from his place on the couch in the living room.

"How dad?"

"Find another one."

"Really dad!"

"That's what he told your brother all the time." your mom say shaking her head. Rising from his seat from the couch your dad finally joined the both of you in the kitchen, one arm snaking around your mother's plump waist, the other grabbing a fresh blueberry muffin your mom just put out. "Babe those are hot!" your mom scolded him.

"Not as hot as you."

"Ew save the bedroom talk."

"Look dear," your mom continued trying to hide her blush. Years later you still found it endearing how enamored the two of them were with one another. "It doesn't hurt to try. Text him and say you're going on a date, see what his response is."

--

Throwing your keys in the cup you began gnawing at your lip. You hated lying to Suna and you knew he would throw a fit considering that Fridays are reserved for the both of you but you were dying to confirm you parent's - and possibly your - suspicions.

Y/N: Sunaroooooooouuuuuuu

Sunarouuu <3: what

Y/N: ugh a little less sass would be nice???!!!

Sunarouuu <3: wHAT

Y/N: -_- Y/N: whatevs Y/N: anyway I gotta date today asdfkjl

Sunarouuu <3: And you're telling me because...???

Y/N: You know I'd appreciate it if you were a bit more happy for me 😥 Y/N: anyway he's taking me out tonight at around 7ish

Sunarouuu <3: breh u know fridays r our days da fuck

Y/N: I know I know I'll make it up 2 u next week I swear 🙏🏾😭

Sunarouuu <3: yer lucky the boys wanted to hang out 2nite

Y/N: 🫶🏾

Suna groaned his fists covering his eyes. "Fucking shit."

"Uh oh," Aran asked. "What happened?"

"Looks like I'm drinkin' with ya tonight."

"Whaaat? Y/N finally dumped ya?"

"Shut the fuck up Miya." Kita rounded the corner smacking Atsumu behind the head, Osamu giving Kita a thumbs up. "Stop teasing Suna. What happened? What'd she say?"

"She got a date or some shit like that." Sighing Kita advised, "Why don't you tell her how you feel? How you've always felt."

"Because fuuuck it'll just mess up our whole dynamic."

"Doesn't hurt to try. You can't get mad at the situation if you haven't even tried to change it."

"I hate it when yer right." he grumbled.

"Anyway I'm about to head home."

"Aw come on Kita ya should drink with us. We're drinkin' to celebrate Suna's rejection." Just as quickly as those words left Atsumu's mouth he dodged his head from the object that flew towards him. Kita shook his head chuckling. "Unlike you guys I have someone to go home to."

"Yer not talkin' bout your stupid dog are ya?"

"Keep it up Tsumu and I'll let Suna kill you for real this time." Holding his hands up in mock surrender he laughed bidding Kita a good evening.

--

Suna slammed down the shot glass, his cheeks red his head spinning. "Maybe ya should slow down" Aran fretted. "You've been knocking back shot after shot."

"Ya don't understand."

"Here he goes again." Atsumu mumbled under his breath. Ignoring him Suna continued. "I really really like her."

"So why haven't ya told her?" Osamu asked.

"Dunno. Scared I guess."

"Of what? From what I see she's been holdin' back too ya know."

"Really?"

"Oi yer hopeless."

--

Groaning you awoke to a flurry of knocks and bangs at your apartment door. Picking up your phone you saw that it was nearing 3AM with a bunch of missed call and text notifications from Osamu, Aran and Suna. Frowning you trudged your way to the door swinging it open to see Osamu and a very drunk Suna with his head down, arm slung over Osamu. "Samu? Hi what-"

"Yer apartment was the closest to the bar and he wouldn't stop tellin' me to drop him here." Ushering Osamu to hand him over you chuckle, "I don't mind. Why'd he drink so much anyway?" Osamu stiffened at your question before replying, "I'll let him explain. Anyway thanks for takin' care of him. See ya later."

"Bye Samu and thanks!" Flicking the lights on you turned to admire how beautiful Suna looked in his drunken state: his cheeks painted a dark shade of red contrasting against his skin tone, his chapped lips, and yellow grayish eyes that abruptly shot open. "Y/N?"

"Samu dropped you off here, told him that you didn't want to go home." Groaning he quipped, "Didn't mean to ruin yer date."

"You didn't."

"I think ima head home." Frowning you scold, "Suna Rintarou, how the hell are you gonna go home in that state?"

"What if yer date sees-"

"There is no date sheesh just stay here."

"I don't wanna ruin-"

"Rin, I'm telling you to stay." Staring at you intently he reluctantly agreed. Helping him remove his shoes you drape his left arm over your much shorter shoulder, your right arm hooking itself around his waist. "Come on ya big lug let's get you to bed. Lord knows yer gonna have a massive hangover." Leading him to your bedroom you gently sit him on your bed, one hand hanging onto him, the other reaching for the water bottle on your nightstand. You giggled as you watched him sway to and fro with his eyes closed. Grabbing 4 ibuprofen you smashed them into small pieces dropping it into the water bottle praying that he doesn't choke or spit it out. "Rin," you gently shake him. "Rin."

"Hm?" his eyes slowly peeled open, he gulped taking in your black spaghetti strap that hugged your full breasts and tummy and the short pink shorts that stopped atop your thick melanated thighs. Stooping in front of him he blushed at the dirty thoughts running through his mind as you got on your knees. "I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me?" Exhaling slowly he looked at the bottle in your hand and grimaced. "Water?"

"If you don't hydrate yer gonna wake up with a really bad hangover. Come on Rin do it for me. Please?" Gulping again he could feel his face heating up at the position you were in: you peering up at him through your lashes, pleading, had his cock straining in his pants. If only you knew how much power you had over him. The word please, the way you uttered it would make him burn the world if it made you happy. "Fine." you smiled unscrewing the cap to the bottle bringing it to his lips. Maintaining eye contact with you he opened his mouth letting the cool stream of water slide down his throat, his adam's apple bobbing up and down. Once the water was finished you lay him down gently draping the covers over his much too tall frame. As you were about to head out he grabbed your wrist. "Where ya goin'?"

"I was gonna sleep on the couch."

"The fuck just sleep here."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Surprised by his strength despite his inebriated state you squeaked when he pulled you to him, your head crashing into his chest. Letting out a sigh of relief Suna pulled you tighter into his embrace, his leg wrapping itself around you as he began petting your head. Blushing you wished you could act on your desire but knew otherwise. Clearing your throat you tentatively ask, "Rin?"

"Hm?"

"What happened? Why'd you drink so much today?"

"Cuz of yer stupid date."

"Wha-"

"I like you so much Y/N. Hell," he chuckles. "I think I'm in love with ya. Yer so smart and beyond beautiful but it's not just physical attraction with ya, I like yer whole being. I can't see you with anyone else so when ya told me ya had a date fuck I don't know my heart just really hurt ya know."

"You like me Rin?"

"Since I first saw you in high school." With tears in your eyes you peered up to see that he had fallen asleep.

--

Groaning awake Suna's eyes slowly peeled open taking in his surroundings. Oh it's Y/N's room. What a weird dream. Closing his eyes again he snuggled into your warmth inhaling your scent releasing a sigh of relief. This is probably one of the best dreams I've ever had with Y/N in it. I hope I can sleep a bit longer. It feels so real. Stiffening his eyes shot open when he felt you wriggle closer to his hard on. "Fuck," he hissed out trying to recollect last night's events; attempting to pry his arms from around you you whined scooting back closer to him, pulling his arms around you again. "Y/N," his morning voice caused you to internally shiver. "Hm?"

"Ya awake?" Slowly sitting up you lifted your arms above your head stretching letting out a yawn, Suna gulping at your erect nipples as you slowly began rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Fuck I'm sorry I don't know what or how-"

"Rin-"

"Look I understand if ya hate me-"

"Rin-"

"Or don't wanna talk to me-"

"Rin.ta.rou."

"But if I made ya feel uncomfortable-"

"You've never made me feel uncomfortable. Not once, not ever." Silence cascaded around you both, both of you scared to break the moment. Inhaling deeply you gently ask, "What do you remember about last night?"

"Fuck I just remember we went to the bar, I drank way more than I shoulda and...now that I think about it I don't feel hung over." Chuckling you respond with, "I crushed 4 ibuprofen and put it in your water." Dramatically gasping, Suna clutching a hand over his heart he says, "You've drugged me? How bold of you Y/N."

"Thank you for making sure I don't wake up with a really bad hangover would've sufficed the fuck." A comfortable silence settled when you tentatively ask, hands fidgeting avoiding his gaze, "D-do you remember what you said? What we talked about?" Gawd Suna wanted to smack his head against the wall, hell he was even willing to let Atsumu do it too for the sake of remembering. Awkwardly chuckling you mutter, "Doesn't matter if ya don't remember. I mean you drank a lot anyway." His chest hurt at seeing you hurt trying to hide the pain by cracking jokes. He cuffed your wrist gently. "Y/N." Biting your lip willing yourself not to cry he gently cupped your chin angling your head to look at him. "Please tell me what we talked about."

"Nah I'll let you suffer. Real fucked up how I'm the only one that remembers."

"That's unfair, one of us wasn't in a clear state of mind."

"Touche." Taking a shaky deep breath you whisper, "Y-you told me you drank because of me b-but the truth is I didn't have a date last night. I only said that to confirm my parents' suspicions."

"Which is?"

"That you l-liked me. But it's okay! I understand if you don't!"

"Gawd yer stupid." Pulling you against him his head bent down slotting his lips against yours, the fit perfect. You whimpered when you felt his big hand slide underneath your tank top sliding up your back. Pulling back both of you gasping for air he leaned forward so that your foreheads were touching. "I've liked you since high school. I didn't wanna ruin what we had, what we built so I kept dating all these girls in hopes of trying to forget you but it didn't fucking work. I kept comparing them to you how their smiles never lit up likes yours, how they didn't like to read, how they weren't you and it wasn't until the boys called me out on it where I finally realized that I have fallen helplessly in love with you."

"Damn," you smirk. "You were down bad for me huh?"

"Shut up." he groaned before yanking your hair back exposing your neck pressing and sucking wet heated kisses along your neck. "I-I like you too." Pausing his ministrations he pulled back to look at you with warmth in his eyes. Mustering up more courage you continue with, "Hell I think I love you." Smiling you lean forward to capture his lips in a passionate kiss when you gently push against his chest, straddling him, his hands instinctively finding purchase on your plump hips, his fingers squeezing the chubby flesh. Quirking an eyebrow up he watched as you slowly lifted the tank top over your head, his eyes darkening. "Rin, let me make it up to you, for all our lost time."

©ALL WORKS BELONG TO SAMOANKPOPER21; ANY INFRINGEMENT OR PLAGIARISM WILL BE REPORTED!! DO NOT STEAL MY WORK!!

[brokebonewritings]

Growing Pains

Matt Murdock x reader

Tags/Warning: 18+, Language, Emotional Abuse (NOT from Matt), Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Summary: You take Matt home to visit your family, now as a couple, and he finally experiences what you had vented to him all these years. Song: Matilda by Harry Styles

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a content warning, I'm not gonna lie. The EA part is short but can hit home to a few people I'm sure. I hope you enjoy, and please take care of yourselves!

The drive to Maine wasn’t too bad. It was the summer so no risk of ice on the road. Your childhood home was on the coast in Bar Harbor, and it was beautiful.

Too bad there wasn’t a better view in your little Hell’s Kitchen apartment. Maybe you would have felt more comfortable in the city then.

Matt had been more than willing to finally meet your family when you asked. The only hesitation he had was the way they treated you. You had started complaining about them in college after your father had passed. 

He could feel how tense you had gotten the closer to Bar Harbor you drove. It was the same every time you visited. It was nice to see your aunts and uncles that came to events, however your mom and sister were a different story.

You had warned Matt that the dynamic the three of you had was a bit toxic. He reassured you that nothing would scare him away. That was reassuring to say the least.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask while turning the radio down a bit.

“Anything.” He replies.

“Have you ever seen the ocean before?”

It was an innocent question. You always felt awkward when you asked about his sight, and if he had seen certain things before he went blind.

“Maybe. Does the view in New York count?” He turns his head towards you.

“Yeah, I would say it does.” You say. “The view here is breathtaking though. Better than the harbor.”

“Describe it to me.”

You take a moment to truly look out the window. There weren’t many cars on the road so you slowed down a bit. 

“Well, The ocean is a deep blue color, and the wind is pushing the waves against the small cliffs.” You start. “On the other side of us are green cliffs. When I say green, I mean there is no patch of dead grass anywhere.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Matt give you a small smile. Turning your head, you can see his face in full view. It makes your cheeks blush in a rose tint. He was beautiful to you. Nothing could have prepared you for this man loving you.

An hour later, your car rolls up to the gravel road and you park in the grass. It was a surprise that you were invited to say the least.

The last time you had been in Maine was 2 years prior. You take a step out of the car and walk around the car, waiting for Matt to exit the car.

You both walk up the front porch together and you knock. To your surprise your mom answers the door. She has a big smile on her face as she sees the both of you standing there.

“Oh! y/n! Come in, Come in.” She says holding the door open. “And who might this be?”

You smile nervously, before looking at Matt. “This is my boyfriend, Mom. Matt Murdock.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He says, extending his hand, a smile on his face. God he was such a charmer.

“Nice to meet you.” She starts, while taking his hand. “I didn’t think she got out much, no less having a boyfriend.”

Your mom turns around and walks you both into the living room, where some distant relatives were joined together in groups. The family takes turns introducing themselves to Matt and catching up with a bit, before you take him outside for some air.

“I didn’t think your family was that big.” He chuckles.

“You can finally tell Foggy I beat him at something.” You giggle in return.

The breeze felt nice against your bare arms once you reached the backyard. You see your sister and her fiance sitting at the patio table, and she waves you over.

Hesitantly, you guide Matt over to the table and greet your sister before introducing them. You both take a seat at the table to be more comfortable.

“I didn’t know you could catch someone this attractive, y/n.” She says with a sly smile on her face. You wince in reaction and turn to see Matt’s face. He’s smiling, but you can tell deep inside he’s holding back from saying anything.

You clear your throat before speaking up. “So how is everything? It’s been almost 2 years. Congratulations on the engagement by the way.”

Chelsea, your sister, smiles at you before turning to her fiance. Their hands molding together, not letting go.

“Yeah, It’s been great! We were planning on moving back here before the winter.”

“Are you looking near here?” You question. 

She hums and nods in response before turning to Matt. “So how did you both meet? What do you do?”

“Well we have been friends since college.” He starts, turning his head to smile at you. He places his hand on your thigh. “I’m a lawyer. A friend and I have our own firm in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Just as he finishes, your mom comes to sit at the table. “A lawyer. Well at least one of you will have a successful career.” She says.

You turn bright red at the comment. She never approved the fact that you changed career paths in college. Stating that it was the most embarrassing moment in her life.

“I actually have a decent career at The Met.” You say in defense.

“Sure, y/n, that’s why you live in Hell’s Kitchen and not Astoria.” Chelsea says.

“Actually,” Matt’s voice startles you. “Y/n make more than I do. I take more pro bono cases than anything.”

Smiling, you appreciate him coming to your rescue and defending your honor. You sister huff, before your mom speaks up.

“Well that is very charitable of you.” She smiles.

More of your family files out into the backyard as it seems like the party has moved on from inside the house. It was a nice day. You watched as your younger cousins ran around the yard and chased each other. The older men of your family stand around talking about sports and projects. The women, you assume, are gossiping on current affairs.

“Congratulations, Chelsea!!” Your aunt says as she passes by your sister. The confused look you gave her was prominent amongst the groups.

“You got engaged 3 months ago though.” You say, Matt’s grip on your knee was a sign to let the topic drop.

Your sister looks at your mom uncomfortably before turning back to you. “Well, actually Gio and I got married.”

Now you were even more confused. “Like a courthouse wedding?”

“Now, let’s not turn this into a big argument” Your mom starts. “It was a small affair, just family in the backyard.”

“It wasn’t even a big deal, y/n.” Chelsea says nonchalantly.

Mouth falling open, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your sister had gotten married, all your family knew. Everyone except you. Looking at the empty seat at the table, you wondered what your dad would have thought.

“Papa would have been so disappointed.” The words fly from your mouth before you have a chance to think. You see your sister stiffen in her seat.

“Don’t you dare bring Daddy into this.” She spits. “This is exactly why you weren’t invited.”

That was your breaking point. Pushing Matt’s hand off your lap, you stand and rush away. You don’t bother looking back because you know the only person following was Matt.

You didn't stop walking until you reached the end of the dock by the house. Standing there a moment, you considered going back, telling off your family and leaving. Hearing footsteps on the wooden dock makes you turn around.

Matt is walking straight towards you, using his cane to guide him down the way. Not that he truly needed it. Once he reaches you, you let out a choked sob and lean your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist to bring you closer.

“They do this to me, every time.” You sobbed. Matt’s eyebrows twist in worry. He’s never seen you cry like this in a long time. Not since your dad had passed.

“Just let it out, sweetheart.” He said as he pressed soft kisses into your hair. That always seemed to sooth you.

The both of you just stood there as you cried. Saying nothing. You didn’t mind though, it was nice of him to let you just feel. No questions asked.

As your breathing slowed and the tears stopped flowing down your cheeks, you looked up to Matt and stared. He looked down at you with a frown plastered across his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get emotional.” You finally say.

“You don’t have to be sorry. This was not your fault.”

“Yeah… but my family didn’t make things better.”

You tug at his wrist for a moment to indicate that you were about to sit down. He kneels down at you until realizing you had your feet dangling off the dock. Taking a seat he folds up his cane and places it next to him.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to keep coming back here if you don’t want to.” He says slowly.

“I feel like I do, or else I can’t see this home again.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh as you look out onto the lake. A secret you had been keeping for a long time finally falling out of your mouth.

“The house is mine.” You say before looking up to him. His jaw moves as he clenches his teeth. Watching his lawyer brain start to work, you continue. “My dad left me the house, paid in full. I just haven’t had the heart to take it from my mom yet.”

The sigh he lets out is comforting. Like he understood the reasoning behind your current turmoil.

“I see.” He thinks for a moment. “Do you ever plan on taking the house?”

“Maybe one day. When I'm done living the city life, or maybe as a summer home.”

He tilts his head towards you. You smile and lean against his shoulder. Nothing mattered in this current moment. Just you and Matt. 

“You know. We’re your family.” He says.

You lift up your head and give him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Foggy, Karen and I. We’re your family.” He elaborates. “Family doesn’t have to be blood, y/n”

Smiling, you nod your head and take his hand. Bringing his knuckles up to your lips, you kiss them softly. Watching as his lips curl upward into a smile. 

“You always have the right thing to say, huh?”

“I try my best, sweetheart.” 

Just as you open your mouth, you hear steps running down the dock. You turn your head to see your cousin running your way.

“Y/n! Your mom wanted you to help her in the office.” He said warmly “Oh! Who’s this?”

Matt turns his head towards the young man, same as you. 

“Peter, this is my boyfriend, Matt.” You start “Matt, this is my cousin, Peter.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.” Matt says with a smile still on his face.

Peter kneels and sticks his hand out for a handshake. “You too, sir!”

You giggle at the sentiment and tap Matt’s leg. Though he was fully aware, he has to keep up the act.

“Pete, he’s blind.” You say.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” He stutters a bit, taking back his hand. “I- I didn’t know!”

“It’s okay. Kinda crazy how we all look like normal people huh?” Matt chuckles, and you giggle as Peter turns bright red. “Where are you from, kid? I’m getting a slight accent from you.”

“Queens.” He says proudly. 

“My mom didn't tell me you lived in Queens?” You said confusion in your voice.  “We live in Hell’s Kitchen”

“Well Aunt May took me in.”

“Right, I’m sorry Pete…”

“Ah it’s alright, that was years ago…” He stands. “Anyways, your mom?”

“Fuck…” You groan, starting to stand.

Matt reaches his hand out for you and you grab it. Helping him to his feel, you kneel back down and grab his cane and hand it back to him.

The three of you walk back to the house. You listen as Peter and Matt discuss the best pizza in the city. It was like they knew each other for years. As you approach the back door, you see your mom in the kitchen. 

Once she notices you, she moves slowly to the next room. Your heart speeds up a bit as you realize your mom probably didn’t need help. Most of the time it was a way to trap you in a corner and bombard you with guilt.

“Matty, you wanna come wait in the parlor while I help my mom?” You say as you turn to him.

He smiles at you and nods. “Of course sweetheart.” He gives Peter a brief goodbye before stepping behind you.

Opening the door, you let him enter first. He waits and grabs your forearm when you shut the door. You lead him into the parlor room that's right outside the office, and he takes a seat on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.”

He nods, and you turn to knock on the office door. You hear the okay to enter before stepping inside. Something was off as the air felt tight. Smothering almost. Your mom sat at the desk in the center of the room.

“Are you done acting like a hurt puppy?” Your mom says as you shut the door.

“Excuse me?”

“You know you hurt your sister’s feelings. I expect you to apologize to her.”

Was this woman serious? She expected you to apologize for your feelings getting hurt? 

“I will not be doing that.” You bluntly say. “If anyone needs an apology, it's me.

She snorts at your comment. “You weren’t invited because you always make it about yourself.”

“How could I make it about myself if I never get invited?”

“Because when you are invited, you do this!”

“You know what, stop!” You shout. “I’m not going to be gaslighted over this!”

“What are you talking about, y/n?” She starts. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me.”

“No! I will raise my voice for once!” You can feel the in the palm of your hand. “You always leave me out of things!”

“We do not! Stop being so dramatic.” She looks back down at the papers on the desk. “I need to discuss something with you, if you’re done yelling.”

That makes you shut up, it always did. You step closer to the desk wiping your hands against your shorts. “What is it?”

“It’s about the house.” She starts. “I’m going to move out of it.”

“You’re moving out?” You knit your eyebrows together “But I thought you were going to wait until you retired?”

“I’m relocating actually. To Washington.” 

“So you have to ask me to sign the paperwork for the house?”

“Well…” She hands you a stack of papers. “I want you to give the house to your sister.”

Looking up from the paper, you drop your jaw. “But Papa gave the house to me. It was the only thing I got!”

“Your sister is married now, y/n. She needs a home to start a family in.”

“So then she can buy a house! I’m not signing this.” You say, placing the paperwork back on the desk.

“If you’re not going to use the house, then give it to someone who will.”

“Who said I wasn’t going to use the house?”

The older woman sighed, “There’s no sense in keeping it if you’re going to keep living in New York.”

“Well I’m not signing it over. That’s it.”

There was a beat before your mom started talking again. “You are being incredibly selfish. I’m very disappointed in you.”

“Yeah, well, I knew that for a long time.” You turn to leave.

“Your father would be disappointed too.” She says. “He knew you were a fucking brat, but if he could only see how much.”

This makes you stop dead in your tracks. She was only saying this to get you to do what she wanted. Finally this was what you needed. The final straw. Turning, you smile at your mom.

“You know what, Martha. I’m done.” You start, crossing to the desk. “My lawyer will be sending paperwork for the house. So I think you should start packing.”

“You little bitch.” She stands. “You’re going to kick your poor mother out of her home?”

“Funny. You don’t act like my mother.” That’s the last thing you say before leaving the room.

Once you exit, Matt is already standing by the door. You knew he had heard every word, and part of you wanted him to.

“Let’s go home, Matty.” You say softly, as he takes your arm.

You walk through the house and say a brief goodbye to your relatives before leaving. You wave to Peter and he runs over to give you a hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, Pete.” You say. “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

He nods, and you and Matt are on your way. In the car, your hands gripped the steering wheel. You had only been drive for about an hour. Guilt was beginning to build up in your chest once again. The sound of your heart must have been deafening because Matt places his hand on your thigh.

“I’m proud of you.” The words were tender coming from his mouth. You couldn’t help but shed a tear.

“Remember in college when I found out my dad passed?” You say suddenly, he nods in response. “I found out after the funeral. They didn’t even tell me.”

“What?” His hand gripped a little harder. “You never went to his funeral?”

You shake your head. Feeling the tears begin to fall more intensely, you pull the car off to the side of the road. This was the constant routine your mom and sister pulled. A major life event would happen, and you would be the last to know. Finding out through another family member, or in that case, a lawyer.

“That’s why it had been so hard on me. I didn’t even know he was sick. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Matt unbuckled his seatbelt then yours and then pulled you close to him. When you felt like that wasn’t close enough, you climbed over the divider and into his lap. He cradled you against his chest while you both sat in silence.

“It’s time you make a new family.” He says softly. You look up towards his face and his blinded gaze is upon you. “I won’t be going anywhere. Neither is Foggy and Karen.”

“That’s a pretty big promise, Murdock.”

“A promise I intend on keeping.” He leans in and kisses your temple. “It seems like you got good aunts and uncles too.”

You smile at the thought. He was right. “I noticed you and Peter were getting along.”

“He’s got a great personality.” He chuckles. You nod in agreement.

The both of you sit there for 10 more minutes before you get back in the driver’s seat. It was a 7 hour drive back to New York anyways.

There was a new peace you felt at the end of the day. Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Matt had been right. You had a family that loved you, and wanted you to be around. That’s all that mattered to you now.

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[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-One

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: More angst, but of the wolfy-variety!

Notes: I know I said two chapters before Jasper, but I had to fit this one in which is why I’m posting out of my normal window. Trust the process when it comes to why I did what I did this chapter lol and if you don’t spot it, everything will be fine (famous last words). Honestly I think I’m just healing inner me with how I wish conversations should’ve happened in the movie lol

Word Count: 2401

Series Masterlist

• March 8th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

Time starts to pass by a little easier with Quil, the quiet isn’t as deafening even when there’s a comfortable silence. I think the same could be said for Quil, since all of his Rez friends have gone AWOL.

Our days are usually spent under blankets on my couch, watching movies and just being present for each other. Plus, there’s not much to do in this tiny ass town anyways.

“Heard anything?” I ask him tentatively, hopefully.

He shakes his head solemnly in response, eyes never leaving the tv. The fact that he doesn’t even want to talk about Jake or Embry twists a new little knife in my gut.

“I’m okay, Y/n/n.” The grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes and I hate it.

“It’s okay to miss them, I know it’s hard to be stuck with just me now-”

“Don’t.” He reaches over to grab my ankle since I’m facing him on the couch and drags it to his lap, “You’re here and they’re not. I was friends with them longer and they ditched me for other dudes. I’m where I want to be.”

“You don’t have to hold it all in, I’m familiar with that feeling.” I nudge his hand with my socked foot to get him to look at me. “What good am I if I don’t therapize you too?”

“That would insinuate I do anything for you, you won’t talk about him.” His gaze levels on me and I’m caught red handed.

“There’s not much to it, I-I loved him and he’s gone. End of story.” I pick at the loose strings on my blanket, the topic hard for me to meet his eyes.

“There’s everything to it.” He squeezes my foot, “Not end of story, you deserve to vent just as much as I do. You don’t need to feel guilty for grieving him, heartache is a real bitch.”

“Heartache is a bitch, huh?” I huff a laugh as I try to breathe through the tears that want to spring up.

“Y/n, I’m the loneliest guy on the planet. In the male friends department and the girlfriend department, don’t make fun of me.” His lighthearted tone trying and failing to make light of his situation.

“We’re just fucked, aren’t we?” His brown eyes meet mine as we commiserate in our collective sadness.

His head drops back against the back of the couch, “Beyond comprehension, my dear Y/n/n.”

• March 11th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

My finger hovers over a text to Quil, asking him to come over, when I get a call from my other best friend.

“Bells, hey-”

“I need backup.” Her request draws me up short. “I’m going to the Rez-I need to see Jacob.”

“Bella, he’s with Sam now-”

“I don’t care anymore, you in?” She presses.

“I was in the second you called, I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Good, because I’m almost there.” Hanging up the phone, I grab a jacket and my shoes.

So much for the first day of Spring Break, might as well start it off with a bang.

•March 11th, 2006 • Quileute Indian Reservation•

Reader

Bella slid to a stop in Jacob’s driveway and both of us hopped out, memories of bike-building settling like a weight in my stomach. It wasn’t even that long ago and I miss it, I miss Jacob.

Bella knocks on the glass pane of his front door and Billy Black answers, “Bella?”

“I need to see him.”

“He-,” glancing between us briefly, “he’s not in.” The lie blatantly obvious.

“I’m sorry,” Bella pushes past his wheelchair and inside the house, “I really need to see him.”

I remain awkwardly on the front porch, torn between not wanting to intrude or following my friend.

“Bella!” Billy’s warning is ineffective as she storms to Jacob’s room.

Just when the situation couldn’t possibly get worse, I spot four shirtless figures emerging from the forest by the house, Sam’s group.

I hear the back door open and shut and I just know it’s Bella.

I sprint around the house to catch up to her, “Bella!” But my warning falls on deaf ears, she’s on a warpath for the boys. “Shit.” I mutter under my breath.

Stomping up to the tallest - Sam, “What did you do?” She pushes his chest, hard. “What did you do, huh? What did you do to him?!”

“Hey - watch it!” The other two guys plus Embry shout as they step up around their leader.

“Easy.” The word is more of a growl than anything and it causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise.

If this comes to a fight, we’re fucked.

“He didn’t want this!” Her desperation pulls at my heart.

“What did we do? What did he do? What did he tell you?” The questions from the guy to Sam’s right are rapid-fire, his anger clearly volatile.

“He tells me nothing, because he’s scared of you!”

The same guy barks out a laugh, clearly he finds her concern for Jacob silly.

“Bella, let’s go home-” but my plead immediately goes unheard because she throws a fucking right hook for the guys face, son of a bitch.

“Too late now.” Another guy jokes, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Bella, get back!” Sam orders, trying to diffuse the situation as this guy begins to shake.

I grab her arm and we slowly start to retreat for her truck, too scared to turn and take our eyes off of the angry male.

“Bella…” I whisper, unsure of what to do.

“Paul! Calm down now.” The authority in Sam’s voice rings through the backyard, but it’s too late somehow.

The shaking and heavy breathing from Paul leads to a transformation that snatches my breath from my body - a wolf. And not just any wolf, a wolf from the fucking meadow. A wolf that saved us from Laraunt, now standing before us where Paul was.

Where Paul was.

Paul is a wolf. A really big one at that - a really big angry one.

Anger directed at Bella and by association, me. The death grip I have on her fucking arm has to be painful, but the menacing look in his eyes shocks me to my bones.

Bella moves before I do, using my tight grip on her to yank me into action with her as she makes for Jacob’s house.

“Bella! Y/n!” Jake yells, clearing the back porch railing in one leap, sprinting for us.

“Run! Jake, run!” Bella screams back at him, but he charges towards us anyways.

He jumps last minute before he reaches us and I trip trying to follow his path with my eyes before-

Before he turns into a fucking wolf too.

Jacob Black, our best friend, is a wolf? I mean, vampires are definitely a thing, but wolves?

Squaring off with Paul, both the russet-colored wolf and the silver-grey wolf launch for each other. Snapping and snarling as they roll into the woods, my heart painfully thumps in my chest, Jacob.

“Hey, take the girls back to Emily’s place.” Sam orders Embry and the last remaining male, both of them jogging over to us.

“I guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” They joke, ushering us up and towards Bella’s truck.

They’re wolves, Sam’s gaggle of Rez boys are fucking wolves. Jacob is one of them and so is Embry, what about Quil? Is this why they’ve ditched him, ditched us? Wolves can’t be friends with humans? What do I even tell him, or should I tell him anything?

My mind is racing a million miles an hour in the span of seconds with questions I desperately need answers to.

Embry holds open the passenger side door to Bella’s truck with a smile and I walk right past his invitation to climb in the bed with the newly acquainted Jared.

“Y/n, that’s not safe-”

“I’ll be fine.” I don’t even spare a glance at him with my monotone answer, I’m mad at him for how he’s treating Quil.

Jared raises his eyebrows and quirks a grin. “Feisty, I like it.”

Embry huffs as he shuts the door behind Bella and rounds the truck for the driver’s side, “Don’t encourage her, man.”

• March 11th, 2006 • Uley Residence •

Reader

“Hey I think we should go back and see if Jacob’s okay.” Bella rolls down her window as the rest of us hop out of her truck.

“I hope Paul sinks some teeth in him, serves him right.” Jared quips to Embry.

“No way! Jacob’s a natural, you see him phase on the fly? I got five that says Paul doesn’t even touch him.” Embry argues, “C’mon in Bella! We won’t bite.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jared jokes and I shove him as we turn to walk inside.

“Oh hey, about Emily - Sam’s fiancé? Don’t stare, it bugs Sam.” Embry warns both of us before following Jared.

“Why would we stare?” Bella asks and I shrug, just as confused.

“You guys hungry? Like I have to ask.” The female in the kitchen asks the boys, laughing at what must be an inside joke. “Who’s this?” She asks after turning around, glancing between us.

“Bella Swan and Y/n Y/l/n.” Jared answers her.

“Hmm… So, you’re the vampire girl-well, girls.” I instantly admire her easy-going vibe, diving straight in to acknowledge the elephant in the room to get it over with.

“So you’re the wolf girl?” Bella asks in return, accepting her olive branch.

“Guess so,” smiling to herself, she picks up the largest platter I’ve ever seen of muffins, “Well, I’m engaged to one.” Snatching both Embry and Jared’s hands as they reach- “Save some for your brothers! And ladies first, muffin?” It’s comical, the way she mothers them.

“Thank you, Emily.” I smile at her and sit across from Jared, the muffin still warm from the oven.

“Leave it to Jacob to find a way around Sam’s gag order.” Emily scoffs, not surprised.

“Umm, he didn’t… Say anything to us.” Glancing at me, Bella explains.

“That’s a wolf thing, alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want ‘em to or not. Oh and check it out - we can hear each other’s thoughts.” Embry brags and I gape, this is all fucking wild.

“Would you shut up! These are trade secrets - damnit, these chicks run with vampires!” Jared’s frustration is lighthearted as he admonishes Embry for giving away some of their abilities.

“Can’t really run with vampires,” Emily and I chuckle at the boys not quite catching on, “Because they’re fast.”

“Yeah? Well we’re faster. Freaked out yet?”

“You’re not the first monsters we’ve met.”

“Jake’s right, you’re good with weird.” Sam nods at us, beelining for Emily as soon as he steps in the door. He presses kisses to her lips and then all over her face, causing her to giggle. The obvious display of affection carving out my heart just a little bit more - looking away I set my muffin down, no longer hungry.

Pushing and shoving each other, Paul and Jacob finally show - unhurt and brotherly even. They just beat the shit out of each other and they’re tighter than ever? Boys.

“Sorry.” Paul apologizes and flashes what has to be his signature smile at both of us.

I catch Jacob jerking his head towards the door and Bella follows, probably off to explain this whole entire shit show. I turn my gaze to Embry and level a glare on my former friend, waiting for him to say something.

“You going to let me explain? Or are you going to look at me like you’d like to castrate me until Bella gets back?” Embry stares right back, munching on another muffin.

“Jared?” I look at him sweetly and he grins, “take me home?”

Embry stands so quick and his chair teeters dangerously on two legs for a moment. “Y/n.” His tone is hard, done with this game.

“Embry.” I match him back.

He walks out the front door and it drags me from my own chair, this blowout long overdue.

“You know now and you’re still fucking mad at me?” He turns, leaning against Bella’s truck and folding his arms.

“I don’t even know where to start, Embry!” I yell at him exasperated. “You ditched us, you ditched your longest running best friend-”

“I had no choice!”

“He’s struggling-”

“I’m struggling!” His eyes are wild and his hands have a slight shake, “Cutting everyone out has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done! I can’t tell anyone, can’t see anyone, can’t do what I want to do anymore! I belong to this Reservation, to this pack, to Sam now. He says jump, I ask how high. He says keep your mouth shut, I cut everyone out. It’s how it has to be.”

“Embry, that’s no way to live.” My heart breaks for his situation.

“It’s in my blood and not something I can opt out of, Y/n/n. Besides, they’re my brothers now and they need me as much as I need them.”

I surge forward to hug him, “I’m still mad at you for Quil.”

“I missed you too.” I hear his grin as I hug him tight. “You can’t tell him though.”

Immediately I retreat, “What?”

“It’s a tribe secret, the pack is sacred and must be protected.”

“He wouldn’t done anything to endanger-”

“It doesn’t matter, anyone on the outside has to stay on the outside. It’s not like I don’t want to, he’s my best fucking friend. But he doesn’t have a need-to-know.”

“Embry-”

“I can’t argue with you about this, please drop it.” His wide eyes plead with me and I surrender.

“Okay, okay. Consider it dropped.” I mime like I’m locking my lips closed and I toss the invisible key over my shoulder.

“Good,” throwing an arm over my shoulder, he leads me back inside, “Now you can hang with the big dogs.”

“Okay I’m going to need you to not make stupid jokes about this situation.” But I laugh anyways, I miss this - him.

I smile to myself, happy to finally have people back in my life that I thought were gone for good. I still feel the massive hole in my chest, but the pain is on the back burner for now.

At least until I’m alone again.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

[crazychaoticizzy]

TRACK 3: Tennessee

Y/n L/n—an indie artist that became the leading female vocalist of the famous band Heart Attack. How did someone with such a soft sound come to join the rock band anyway?

EREN X READER X JEAN

CONTENT: multipart fic, rock band au, slow burn, love triangle, angst, substance abuse, toxic relationship, if I missed anything let me know!

WORD COUNT: 10.6k

series masterlist

AOT masterlist

<< previous part

Y/N: I should probably start at the beginning, right? Well, I truly fell in love with music when I was little. My mother, Alice Kraney, gave me that love. Crazy as she was. She would always come back from sets humming the tune to whatever song had been playing. She’d let me make up lyrics, even if they were wrong.

That was before she . . . got carried away with everything. Before the heroine and ecstasy got to her. She fought a lot with my dad because of it. They eventually got divorced, and my dad won custody of me in court. The jury said Mom was too unstable to raise me. My dad was gracious, though. More than he should have been. He got me in New York during the school year, and when summer came around he let me go to my mom’s if I wanted.

It shouldn’t have shocked you that Alice Kraney’s house reeked of marijuana and various other substances. Some part of you always had a sliver of hope that she’d decided to change herself during the school year. She never did.

You nearly threw up walking through the front door. It was a mess. You didn’t like being at her small townhouse in the middle of Fuck-Shit-Nowhere, Tennessee, but you still liked your mom. The delusional side of you always assumed she’d stop for you.

She never did. She never did anything.

You stepped over a pile of mail and held your suitcase and bags just above the floor. It was meant to be wooden, but it was covered in so much grime you couldn’t really tell.

Jesus, did it really get that bad in ten months?

Alice wasn’t home. You knew that because the door was unlocked. She never locked the door when she went out, even while she was with your father.

You carefully maneuvered your way across the living room and down the hall. You spotted a couple needles and orange caps on the floor, and reminded yourself to always wear shoes and never sit on cushions in Alice’s house.

The only clean room in her house was yours. Alice never touched it. She hardly even knocked on the door when you were there. Did she even know you were there?

It didn’t smell great in your room either. The fumes from the rest of the house had bled through the vents and made the space stink. You made another note to buy a shit ton of Febreeze and those wallflower things from Bath and Body Works.

You set your bag aside and sat on your bed, heaving a sigh. At least your room was drug free. That was something you took pride in.

Your phone buzzed. You looked down at the screen. You smiled at the Instagram DM from a guy you had been talking to. Damian — a guy from California that had complimented your music.

Your fingers glided across the keyboard as you orchestrated the perfect response. It wasn’t moments later that you held the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” you said. Your voice was pitched higher on purpose, and you tried your best to cover the Brooklyn accent you had.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Damian said. You swooned. How easy it was to romance you. “Haven’t talked to you in a bit.”

“It’s only been a day,” you giggled. You stood up. There were still things you had to unpack from your car.

“A day too long.” You rolled your eyes. “So what are you up to?”

“Oh, you know. I just got to my mom’s. It’s a mess, as usual.”

You heard Damian exhale — one of the ones that sounded as though he were daydreaming. “I still can’t believe I managed to catch the attention of Alice Kraney’s daughter.”

You laughed again, poised and perfect. “Well it isn’t hard.”

“Not for me, anyway.” A moment of silence passed as you pulled your guitar out of your trunk and began your second trip through the house. “Say, pretty girl” — God, your heart fluttered when he called you that — “d’you pack that special gift?”

You scoffed playfully. “Damian.”

“I’m only asking. Maybe we could have some fun.”

You smiled. Damian couldn’t see it, but he knew he had enticed you. “My dad wouldn’t approve,” you said, but it would take nothing more than a flick for you to crumble and give in.

“Daddy’s not around, is he, pretty girl?” You rolled your eyes, but already you were digging around in your suitcase to comply. “C’mon, babe. Hop on FaceTime and we can have fun.”

“Okay, okay. I’m looking.”

“Atta girl.”

Damian’s photo appeared on your phone before you knew it, and it wasn’t long until you were complying with his every wish.

—

Y/N: When I tell people about Damian, they tell me I was weak and naïve. Someone even called me stupid when I was on a press tour with Heart Attack. They say I should have known better. But I was not weak or naïve or stupid. I was a baby. I wanted someone to care about me the way he said he did.

I regret everything having to do with Damian with my whole heart. Even the songs that got me where I am. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to take all of that back.

“I wrote you a song.”

You were on the phone with Damian again. Your phone was propped up against one of your pillows and you listened to his voice with headphones.

“A song? Isn’t it a bit early for that, pretty girl?”

You shrugged, standing from your end to retrieve your guitar. When you settled back on your bed, you strummed the strings lightly. “Maybe. But I wanted to write one for you. Can you hear the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can hear it.” You could hear the reluctance in Damian’s tone, but you ignored it. “Alright then, show me what you made.”

You smiled, looking down at the neck of your guitar to make sure you had the right fingerings with each note change.

That smile didn’t leave your lips as you sang. The guitar rhythm was soft, your voice even softer. Candied and light, your voice carried through the house.

As you strummed the final chord, you looked at Damian expectantly, eagerly awaiting his feedback. When he didn’t say anything, you cleared your throat.

“Did you like it?”

Damian didn’t respond for a moment again. But he eventually clicked his tongue and furrowed his brows.

“It was . . . Something.”

You felt your heart crack. Your vibrant smile faded ever so slightly, but you tried to keep it.

“I thought you liked my music.” That’s why he had contacted you in the first place. He had come across a clip of you singing a snippet from a song you’d written. He told you he loved your voice and the way you played.

Damian shrugged. “No, I do. I do. It just- It was just okay. I know you wanna be the next Historia Reiss influencer or whatever, but don’t you think that’s a bit silly?”

Your smile faced completely. You let your posture sag. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that, you know, not everyone makes it. Not unless they’re pretty and talented, and you just don’t quite hit that mark.”

You blinked at him in silence, the gears in your head working overtime to fully dissect Damian’s words. You were trying to piece together the contradictions of what he just said and the things he told you before.

“Plus, like, we’re just casual. This is just a casual thing, you and I. You don’t need to write a whole song.”

You nodded. “Right.”

But your gaze flitted over to the notebook on your desk — the one filled to the brim with pretty words describing the way Damian made you feel. You had planned to flesh them out into full songs for him, but now you weren’t sure.

An uncomfortable silence had enveloped the room. The air was so thick it was suffocating you, pushing down in your chest and weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, clearing your throat. You could feel your eyes burning with tears. “Uhm, I have to go.”

Damian groaned as you grabbed your phone. “Pretty girl, I didn’t mean it like that-”

You hung up before he finished and tossed your phone as far away from you on your bed as you could. You held your legs to your chest like a damn toddler and took a deep breath, pressing your forehead against your knees.

You heard a knock on your door. You lifted your head and sniffed, wiping your cheeks to clean any stray tears. “Come in,” you called out, your voice cracking.

Your door creaked open. On the other side stood your mother. She looked like she was about to go out and throw herself onto the first man that looked at her. Her fried hair was straightened and she wore shorts that could hardly be classified as such.

“Hey,” is all she said. Her voice was hoarse. “Was that music you?”

You softly nodded. You couldn’t tell if Alice was high. You hoped she was, at least a little. That way she wouldn’t pay your dried tears any mind.

Alice hummed. “It was nice. Pretty.”

“Thanks,” you dryly said.

Alice bit the inside of her cheek. She stood awkwardly in your doorway for a moment before clicking her tongue. Her lips curled up, revealing the circular gap in her front two teeth. “Smile, babe,” she said, pointing at the apples of her cheeks.

You hummed, unamused, as Alice closed your bedroom door.

You didn’t know whether to take her compliment or not. She was a druggie, but before that she was just a street away from Broadway and was a riding actor nearly everyone knew the name of. If she said you sounded good, did she really mean it?

You pushed her words to the back of your mind and put your guitar away. You laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours before you heard the front door open and your mom stumbled into the house. She was giggling, and you heard another voice with her.

You reached for the headphones on your nightstand and put them over your ears. You put them at the highest volume before pushing play on a playlist your friend had made for you.

Why you were always so sure you wanted to spend every summer with Alice, you didn’t know. But every year without fail, you find yourself wishing you hadn’t come.

—

The start of the school year was always stressful. You hated driving, and the trip back to your dad’s Brooklyn apartment was going to beat your ass.

Not to mention that you always managed to arrive home later than anticipated. You weren’t sure what it was, but last year you arrived a whole day late and missed the first day of school. And you still had to go get school supplies. And repack your bags.

Instead of doing any of that, you were tucked under the blankets of your bed, watching one of your mom’s old movies. One from her early twenties.

She really was a good actress. Her expressions were spot on no matter what and she was always able to adapt to her co-stars choices easily. The movie you were watching was an indie film called Esperanza’s Dog. It won an award once, though you don’t know what for.

It was probably one of your favorite films. Not just because seeing your mom play the main character, Esperanza, but because the movie was so beautifully shot and written. It always made you cry. Your dad had also worked on the film. That’s where he met Alice.

You were so engrossed in the movie that you didn’t even notice Alice push your door open and come in. You only knew she was there when she sat down on the edge of your bed with you. She looked more out together than usual (though there were still dark rings around her eyes and her hair was a mess), and her clothing was more modest that what you had seen her wear.

“Whatcha watching?” she asked, even though her eyes were already glued to your computer screen. You knew she could recognize the movie. You knew she recognized the work your dad did.

“Esperanza's Dog,” you quietly replied. You pulled the blankets tighter against you, watching as Alice’s lips curled up the smallest bit.

“You know, that was my favorite to film.” She wasn’t high. Or drunk, or intoxicated in any way. You wondered what the occasion was.

“Is it because of dad?”

Alice laughed and leaned back on her arms. “Part of it. But no, it was just fun. It’s a nice movie and Kasey Mulls is a really good director. She’s working with Hollywood now, you know.”

“What studio?”

“Oh, who knows. But her new movie went up for tons of awards this year.” You hummed, and that was the end of the conversation. An uncomfortable silence wrapped itself around you, and you kept your eyes glued to the screen in an attempt to not start another talk.

Your mother, however, did the opposite. Her gaze flitted around your room, analyzing every aspect of it from your open windows to the paper wisteria that was hanging in all corners of the room. She eventually landed on your guitar case, which was open.

“Will you play something for me?” she asked. Her voice was hopeful, and you saw a glint of the same thing in her eyes when you met her gaze.

You stared at her. For a moment, you could see the twenty-something year old that was currently on your screen, sharing a romantic moment with one of the love interests.

It almost pained you to see. You knew the woman on the screen was your mom, but it was such a far cry from who she was today that it was almost impossible to see the connection. You had seen many articles and Redditor’s and Tumblr users and Instagram reels that tracked the timeline of Alice Kraney’s downfall, and in every one there was no clear path that landed her as a blacklisted druggie.

“I don’t really have anything,” you said, turning back to the movie.

“Sure you do. What was that song you sang earlier? About here?”

Your heart clenched. So much it hurt. You remembered her asking about it when you first sang it in full, but you didn’t think she would. You had hoped that she was too involved with herself that day so she wouldn’t remember it.

But of course she did. Because if she heard you singing the song, then she heard you talking to a boy — to Damian. If she heard the song, then she heard the exact moment your heart cracked and reality dawned on you. If she heard the song, then she also heard who it was about.

“It’s not very good,” you said.

“Yeah it is! It’s a great song. I think it would do wonders on radio. Maybe even a movie? Hey, I could probably call someone and see if-”

“Mom.” Alice quieted, looking at you curiously as you sat up. “It’s fine. It’s not- I don’t really want to get into show business.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Since when?”

You shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking about it. It’s really hard to break through and stay relevant. Anyone can be a one-hit wonder, but if I want to be able to do this for a living then I have to be able to be… seen.”

What Damian said to you had sent you down a spiral. Okay, maybe you weren’t as pretty as other celebrities or a nepobaby like Historia Reiss. That was fine, but if you weren’t pretty then why would people pay attention to you?

“I just think it’s more realistic to get a real job.” You shrugged again. It felt like you were lying through your teeth. You really did want that. You wanted the life celebrities lived even if it was nasty and drama-filled. You wanted to be seen and to write songs that other people could relate to.

Alice was silent for a moment. You could see your words turning in her mind.

“Even if you don’t make it, you can still do it,” she stated. “It can be a side hustle.”

“Mom—”

“You are talented. You have a beautiful voice and know how to play a guitar—”

“I really don’t think—”

“Listen to me.” Alice grabbed your hand. “You are nearly seventeen. If this is what you want to do, then start now. The industry gets so much more competitive when you’re an adult than when you’re a teenager. You have the talent and sound to make it big, you just have to try. No one’s going to know who you are if you don’t put yourself out there.”

You exhaled, your back curving into a slump. Even if your mom wasn’t a very strong fighter, she got stubborn when she thought something would work out with her whole heart.

“Now, play me a song. Please? I want to hear it.”

You folded. Mostly because your mom rarely paid attention to you and now she wanted you to do something for her. That, and she wasn’t high out of her mind like she usually was. This was something she would remember.

You paused your movie and closed your laptop, reluctantly sliding out of bed and crossing the room to your guitar case. You pick it up, lifting the strap over your head and strumming the strings to make sure they were in tune. You pulled your rolley chair out from its spot at your desk and turned it with your foot, sitting down.

You met Alice’s gaze. She was sitting straight — attentively. She gave you a soft smile and thumbs up. When you strummed your guitar and started singing, you were reminded why you loved it.

—

EREN: Marco’s death put a damper on everyone’s mood. You have to go really far back on the Heart Attack socials, but if you look at the dates you see almost a year where nothing new was posted.

CONNIE: Erwin threatened to cut our deal with Scout Records if we didn’t quit moping. We needed to provide something for the studio to produce if we wanted to stay. We used one of Marco’s old keyboard tracks and made “Holiday”.

JEAN: “Holiday” found itself on TikTok pretty fast. People liked the sound. They liked rock music. I was grateful, I guess. But… Marco wasn’t there. And if he wasn’t, then why was I?

“Eren, you fucking idiot.”

Jean crumpled the paper in his hand, a noise that was louder than it should have been due to the silence in the room as everyone looked over their music.

“What the fuck is this?” Jean strode across the studio to Eren and shoved the crumpled paper into his chest. Eren let go out the microphone and grabbed the paper before it fell to the floor and unfolded it.

“It’s your music.”

“Well no shit. I mean why is it changed?”

“Then maybe you should have said that instead of what the fuck is this.” Eren mocked. He looked back down at the sheet of music. “What song is this?”

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” Jean snapped. Maybe he was irrationally angry, but that was his song. He wrote it. Every part of it. Why was Eren changing it?

“Oh.” Eren hands him the paper back. “Your backtrack with the bass sounded off. It didn’t line up with everything else.”

“That was the point! It’s supposed to be discordant to disconnect the listener. It gives the song meaning, Eren.”

“We aren’t trying to disconnect the listener, Jean! If the listener feels disconnected then why would they listen to more of our music?”

“This is my song, idiot. You can’t—”

“Stop arguing.” The voice was loud over the intercom. It was something the band still wasn’t used to.

Everyone’s head snapped to the pane of glass that separated the studio to the control room. They could vaguely see their reflections in the glass, but beyond those they were met with Erwin’s stern stare and Levi’s disapproving glance.

“Nothing will get done if the two of you keep picking on each other. Jean, I told Eren to change the song. Now sit down and start figuring it out.”

Jean huffed, sparing a glance at Eren before he snatched the crumpled paper out of Eren’s hand and retreated to his stool.

He knew Levi was lying, but no one talked back to Levi Ackerman and stayed where they were.

Eren was humming the tune of the song. He was humming it wrong, which meant he would sing it wrong. If they were in their apartment, then Jean would have stood up and corrected him. He would have stood up and fought back until he got his way, but since they were in a professional studio, he refrained.

When everyone felt they had a feel for their parts, they gathered together and Erwin played Marco’s backtrack through the speakers around them. The first run through was messy — everyone was figuring out where their parts fit into the rest of the music — but they figured it out eventually.

And when they finally got everything together after nearly a week of workshopping the song, “Holiday” became Heart Attack’s first song to reach the top of the charts.

—

Y/N: Junior year was . . . An experience. It was definitely a lot. I also had a bunch of situationships and . . . problems . Probably the worst year of my school career. The last, too, but I like to pretend I completed high school.

It wasn’t really a good year for me, but it was a good year for my music. I started focusing on that, maybe a bit more than I should have, and I got my name on the map. Sure, I might not have been recruited by any talent scouts or however that works, but I had built my own little following.

Your dad didn’t know you were out.

As far as he knew, you had locked yourself in your room, listening to a playlist that included Ritchie Valens, Leslie Gore, and Paul Anka through your speaker as you worked on an English project with your partner.

He wouldn’t suspect that you were gone, because on top of the soft music was talking. Your friend Jazelle (who you affectionately called Jazzy) had snuck into your room earlier. She would replace you in your room for the night, and she would be on the phone with her boyfriend to make it seem like she was working with someone else.

It was perfect, really. You had called in a favor that another friend of yours, Ella, owed you and managed to find yourself performing a gig in her uncle’s small blue’s bar. You had dressed yourself in a lilac dress that reached just above your knees and cowboy boots. Your hair was pinned out of your face and soon enough you would be on a stage, singing and playing a guitar for a small audience and your dad would be none the wiser.

Jazzy’s boyfriend, Dallas, was with you. He had decided to tag along since Jazzy wanted to watch you perform, but had been given the job of filling in for you at home. The two of them would be on FaceTime so she could watch you.

“How are you feeling?” Jazzy asked, dragging out the last word with an excited tone. There was an infectious smile on her face, and the sight of it made you feel calmer.

“I’m kind of scared.” Dallas’s phone was big, so you had set it against a ledge backstage so you didn’t have to hold it. “I think Dallas said he was getting me water to calm me down, but I don’t understand how that’s going to help?”

“It has something to do with your nervous system, I think. I don’t know, he’s explained it to me before but I don’t remember.” Jazzy readjusted her phone. You assumed it was resting against her laptop screen since she had started typing. “But you’re gonna do great! Your songs are good and I think you’ll find the right audience in the kind of bar you’re in.”

“Hopefully.” You turned your head at the sound of footsteps, holding your hand out when you saw Dallas walking toward you with a plastic water bottle. You immediately opened it and took a long drink.

“Oh, my God, I’m so nervous,” you said once you had lowered the bottle from your lips. “What if I pass out on the stage? Or a light falls on me and I die? Or I just like . . . die, or something.”

“Y/n, you’re so dramatic,” Jazzy said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Besides, the lights for the stage are so far out there is no way they would fall on you,” Dallas added.

“Well maybe they’ll walk over to me before they decide to fall on my face.”

“They’re inanimate. How would they—”

“Miss Kraney?” You turned your head. Standing at the end of the hall, just a few strides from you, was one of the guys that had led you backstage. It was one of Ella’s cousins, though you didn’t remember his name. “Are you ready to go on?”

You nodded in response quicker than you intended. Were you really ready?

The answer was no. This was the first crowd (no matter how small it was) that you had ever played for. You didn’t think anything would ever be able to prepare you for something like this.

You grabbed your guitar and followed Ella’s cousin just outside the door that led to the small stage. You waited until the previous singer stepped off to follow him and sit at the stool left behind.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Y/n Kraney.”

You smiled, adjusting your patterned guitar strap around your shoulder. You had taken the name Kraney because it was recognizable. So many people knew Alice Kraney — the promising young actress that had fallen off the deep end who knows how long ago. People would recognize the name and, hopefully, connect you as her daughter.

You hoped they thought you would have that same potential Alice did.

You waited until Ella’s cousin adjusted the mic to your height before smiling. You quietly thanked him before leaning into the microphone.

“Hi, everyone.” You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. Your heart was pounding in your throat and your blood was rushing in your ears. You started to mindlessly pluck different notes on your guitar, hoping to alleviate the thick atmosphere. “Has anyone ever heard my music?”

That was a dumb question. Who would have? Was anyone even paying attention to you? You thought it over later that night and realized you were just supposed to be background noise for the people trying to relieve any stress from their days.

You got one singular whoop! in response to your question. Even though the one person was embarrassing, it provided the evidence you needed that you were making your breakthrough, even if it was only to one person.

“We’ll, for those of you that have never heard me before, I hope you enjoy.”

—

HANGE ZOË, producer for Heart Attack: The first time I heard Y/n sing was in New York. I was visiting a friend to discuss a film he wanted me to make music for, and I found myself in the same bar as her. The only thing I could think when I heard her voice was wow. I mean, I couldn’t believe she had the kind of talent she did and she wasn’t even eighteen yet.

ERWIN SMITH, owner of Scout Records: I remember Hange video calling me at five in the morning. Though, I suppose with the time difference it would have been late at night for them. I had just woken up and was still processing that fact when they told me, “Erwin, I’ve found our next star.”

Hange flipped their phone camera, ignoring Erwin’s rant about how early it was in Germany, to show a clear view of you on the stage.

Your voice rang out like a bell, soft and melodic as you strummed your guitar. You sang a song that Hange later learned was called “Fragile,” one that you had written about one of your exes. They found themselves wondering what the song would sound like in a different setting—not on your acoustic guitar.

“What’s her name?” Erwin asked as you wrapped up the song.

“Y/n Kraney,” Hange replied.

Erwin’s brows furrowed. “Kraney as in Alice Kraney?”

“They certainly have a strong resemblance.”

“Wow.” Erwin blew out a breath and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. We worked on a movie together once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Alice was nice to work with.” Erwin went silent as the sound of your voice filled the air, this time a cover of “Donna” by Ritchie Valens gracing his ear. “I want you to recruit her. Offer whatever it takes.”

“Actually?” Erwin nodded, making Hange click their tongue. “That’ll be hard, Erwin. I’m pretty sure she lives here.”

“You’re the one that told me you found a star.”

Hange scoffed and rolled their eyes. “Yeah, but it was more like a what if we consider this sort of sound instead, you know?”

Erwin deadpanned. He knew that obviously wasn’t true, but it was clear he was still exhausted. The faint circles beneath his eyes became more prominent with each night that passed. “Sure. Do whatever it takes to get her to sign with us.”

“Like I said, I can try. But I make no promises. We’re stationed in Germany.”

“Then tell her we’ll buy her a place here. An apartment, a penthouse — whatever she wants. I want her with my company.”

Hange saluted. “Yes, sir. Whatever you want, big boss man.”

Erwin exhaled. He hated when Hange called him that. “Have a good night.”

And then he hung up. Hange scoffed once more before cursing at him under their breath. They tucked their phone back into their pocket and returned their attention to you.

Hange’s leg bounced. They were waiting until you finished and walked backstage to go there themselves and talk to you.

The moment your fingers strummed the last chord and you smiled, sugared words thanking everyone for listening falling from your lips, Hange was out of their chair and beelining toward the back.

They made it before you did. They waited for you to arrive down the hall impatiently, their foot still tapping against the floor.

You walked down the hall with your guitar case in tow. You shot Hange a brief smile before walking past them, but the sound of their voice interrupted you.

“Y/n Kraney, correct?”

You paused, turning to them and nodding. “Yes. Can I help you?”

Hange took note of your thick accent (one that you didn’t have when speaking on stage or while singing), but they smiled widely and held out their hand. “Hange Zoë. I’m a producer for Scout Records.”

Now they had your interest. You turned your entire body to face them and grabbed their hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Hange dropped their hand, tucking both of them into the pockets of their blazer. “You have talent.”

“Thank you.” You lowered your head briefly to show your appreciation.

“Have you thought about where you’re wanting to go with this? If you wanna make it a career or keep it as a hobby?”

You nodded. “I’ve been striving to make this my job. Though, I haven’t been very successful.” You force a laugh, though it’s obviously strained.

“Well of course. It’s hard to break through in an industry with so many people.” You nodded. “Have you thought about signing with a label?”

Your eyes slightly widen. You figured that’s where this was going, but you hadn't wanted to get your hopes up.

“Yes.”

Hange smiled. They pulled out a card from their blazer and handed it to you. You took it from their hand, absolutely gobsmacked that this opportunity was, quite literally, just being handed to you. It had to be too good to be true.

You were about to accept then and there. You had opened your mouth to say that yes, of course you’d sign with their company. But when you looked down at the card in your hand and scanned over both the address and phone numbers listed, you faltered.

“In . . . Germany?”

“Yes, dear. In Germany.”

“Oh . . .”

You didn’t know what to say. You had jinxed yourself because it really was too good to be true. Of course when the perfect opportunity arises, there has to be a weird, exigent circumstance that prevents you from reaching your dreams.

You had been so close.

“I don’t think I can do that,” you said. You met Hange’s gaze again.

“Why not? Is it living arrangements? I can assure you that the label will—”

“No. No, it’s- It’s not that.”

Hange’s brow raised in curiosity. “What is it then?”

“Just . . . Germany is so far. My parents are here in America and- God, not to mention school.”

Hange was taken aback. They blinked, speechless. School?

“How old are you?”

“I just turned seventeen,” you replied, rather bashfully.

Hange hummed, running their hand over the bottom half of their face in thought. Your youth definitely caused a problem.

“And you’re in eleventh grade? Or twelfth?”

“Eleventh.”

Hange exhaled a silent curse.

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling the new tension building as Hange thought.

“Alright.” Hange exhaled again, holding out one of their hands to motion to you. “The offer still stands and will so long as you take this seriously. If you want to move to Germany and join Scout Records, then we will take care of everything you need.”

You nodded, even knowing that you’d never accept the offer. You needed to stay in America. It’s where everything you’d ever known was.

Hange’s gaze softened. They reached forward and gently grabbed your shoulder. “You are very talented, Y/n. Even if you don’t join our company, I hope you find yourself doing great things.”

“Thank you.” 

“If you change your mind, just call one of these numbers. We’ll get you situated.” Hange tapped the card in your hand before letting you go. You stood in the same spot as they stepped around you and left, the door closing loudly behind them.

You couldn’t believe you had to miss out on the chance of a lifetime just because of where you would have to go.

—

“We need to find a keyboardist.”

Armin’s voice cut through the silence of the apartment. It was early in the morning, and Jean was the only one in the shared living and dining space that would pay attention, since Mikasa was on her phone and listening to music through big headphones.

“Why? What’s wrong with playing the tracks?” Jean asked. He had been outlining something in his notebook, but he promptly set his pen on the pages when Armin spoke.

“It just- It doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t sound natural when we play with it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It sounds like a backtrack.” Explaining it almost made Armin feel stupid, because it was a backtrack so of course it would sound like one. “It just doesn’t blend well when we do live music. It needs to sound like live music when we do gigs. Plus, when we get bigger and start doing tours—”

“You think we’re going to get bigger?” Jean tone was condescending, and Armin flinched back like he had been burned.

Jean hated that he did that. He always showed the worst of him when he was upset or sad or . . . not happy. He had tried working on it before, but to no avail.

“Jean, our song is number five on the charts right now. People are starting to notice us.”

“We’re probably going to be a one hit wonder. Holiday got the attention, but what about The Bends? Or Boulevard of Broken Dreams? Or any of the samples we’ve put out on Instagram? No one pays attention to those.”

“Well we won’t know that if we don’t take this seriously,” Mikasa added. She had paused her music when Armin started talking. When Jean turned her way, her gaze was piercing. “Armin has a point, Jean. Playing the keyboard tracks when we do live music isn’t gonna work for long because it’s at a different volume than what you are playing. It doesn’t match the energy either.”

He let out an exasperated exhale, but reluctantly listened as Mikasa continued to ramble about coherence and continuity in their music.

“And where do you propose we find a keyboardist? We can’t just go out and magically find one.”

Jean found himself eating his words later that day as he marveled at the brunette tapping the keys of her well loved keyboard in a park. Mikasa had dragged him outside and had driven around aimlessly for what had seemed like hours in hopes of finding a street performer that could play the piano.

And dammit did she find a good one. The brunette pressed the keys like she was playing in a bar and sang with a similar twang to American country stars, but she was good. Her fingers slid across the keys like she was on a mission. Every note seemed to have meaning when she played it, and Jean was in awe.

“So today we learned that we can just go out and find a keyboardist,” Mikasa said cheekily. She turned to Jean, a smug grin painted across her face.

Jean scoffed. “You got lucky.”

“The point is, if you look, you’ll find something.” Mikasa turned her attention back to the brunette, watching as she smiled widely and thanked a child who offered her a half-empty bag of jerky and two euros.

“She doesn’t play what we do.” There he went again. Criticizing whatever he could. The girl probably could play some sort of rock sounding medley, but Jean was too stuck up on Marco to even want to find out if she could.

“Well, that’s why we ask if she can.” Mikasa spared Jean a sidelong glance as the girl began another song. “We won’t find out if we don’t try.”

That was basically the same thing she had said earlier. Mikasa was all about taking chances, Jean had noticed. She was always on the lookout for the next big thing and had become bolder since becoming Heart Attack’s publicist and social media manager.

Jean mumbled some sort of offhanded reply before going silent. He listened to the girl’s music, but it seemed like she had reached the end of her performance because less than ten minutes later, she was thanking everyone around her and disconnecting her keyboard from the two speakers.

Mikasa took the opportunity. Jean watched as she approached the woman when everyone else dispersed. He reluctantly stepped closer, not wanting to seem like a creep to others.

“Good afternoon, I’m Mikasa Ackerman.” Mikasa really had gotten bolder since becoming a publicist. The pre-Berlin Mikasa never would have walked up to a total stranger of her own volition and confidently introduced herself like she was somebody to know.

The brunette glanced up from where she worked to wind up a cord, smiling at the sight of Mikasa. “Sasha. Nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand to meet Mikasa’s.

“The pleasure is mine.” Mikasa dropped her hand from Sasha's, holding her hands behind her back and twirling her fingers. She nodded to the keyboard. “You’re a very good player.”

“Thanks. My dad taught me forever ago.” When Sasha had finished winding up the cord in her hands, she grabbed a clip from her pocket and secured it before moving on to the second cord.

“How nice. Say, have you heard of Heart Attack?”

Straight to the point. The old Mikasa would have beat around the bush and engaged in small talk longer.

“The band?” Mikasa nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard some of their music. Uh, Holiday, right?”

“That’s the one!” She was also . . . cheerier than normal, Jean noticed. “Well, I’m a publicist for their band. Basically I look around for places they could book gigs and events they could play at . . . All that fun stuff.” Sasha nodded, though it was clear that she wasn’t sure of the direction Mikasa was heading.

“And they’ve recently found themselves without a keyboard player.” Jean watched Sasha’s intrigue heighten. She had slightly tilted her head, her brows raising just the tiniest bit.

“Are they?”

“They certainly are. And, wouldn’t you know it, you fit the bill.”

Mikasa smiled. Sasha nodded, her gaze moving to where Jean stood behind the black-haired woman. He could tell she didn’t recognize him, which was proof that while people recognized their band name, they had no clue who the band actually was.

Sasha’s gaze flitted back to Mikasa, and she sat back on the battered stool at the keyboard. “So, what, are you holding auditions or something?”

“Nope. I’ve gone around to a few parks in search of street performers. The next big thing, you know?” Jean knew Mikasa was probably bullshitting this entire speil. He wasn’t even sure Mikasa knew talent when she saw it—she probably approached Sasha based on Jean’s reaction.

“So you’re a scout?”

“In a way, yes. But what I do is besides the point. The reason I’ve approached you is because I want to offer you the position.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. If she were standing, Jean thought she might have fallen over. “You want me to play with the band?”

Mikasa nodded. “I think you have what it takes to help them become the best artists in the world.”

Jean watched Sasha think. He watched the gears turning in her head as she considered the offer. After a moment, Mikasa reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notepad and pen.

“Here, I’ll give you my number. If you decide you want to join, go ahead and text me, okay?” Mikasa jotted down her phone before tearing the paper from the notepad and handing it to Sasha. Sasha gently grabbed it, bringing it closer to her as if it were a priceless artifact.

“Thank you. I’ll think about it and let you know.”

The two of them shook hands again before Mikasa turned. She motioned with her head toward the way her car was parked to Jean before the two of them fell into step together.

“You’re so stupid,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. He just wanted something to express his annoyance at Mikasa’s constant success with the band.

“No, I’m determined. This is your guys’ dream. Hell will freeze over before I let it fail.”

Jean hummed, but didn’t say anything in response.

The rest of the walk to Mikasa’s gray car was silent. It wasn’t until they had settled in, clicking their seatbelts into place and soft indie music playing through the car speakers, that Jean spoke.

“Do you think she’ll accept?”

Mikasa shrugged. She turned to look in the rear view mirrors before she started reversing. “Hopefully. I’ll be—”

Mikasa’s sentence was cut off when her phone started ringing. She had to double take at the number displayed on the console, but when she saw the unknown number, she smiled.

She pressed the green button, clearing her throat before saying, “This is Mikasa.”

“Hi. Sasha again. Uhm . . . When did you want me to meet everyone?”

Mikasa smiled, glancing at Jean. He rolled his eyes and looked out the window.

Heart Attack had a new keyboardist.

—

SASHA: Of course I accepted. I was living in my car when I met Mikasa and Jean in that park. It was not a good look. Honestly, I think Mikasa probably saved my life when she asked if I wanted to join their band.

I was excited, as one typically is when they join a band. Mikasa gave me a time and address to meet everyone that Saturday. It was the studio, and I met Mikasa in the lobby. She led me up to the room they were practicing in and introduced me. But when I walked in there was this . . . tension.

This was not what Sasha had imagined.

Well, maybe it was. There were three people in the control room talking amongst themselves, their voices unheard on the other side of the glass. The other four focused on their own instruments. Sasha didn’t know anyone’s name, but she would learn them as they spoke to each other.

Their actions were what Sasha would expect in a studio. She didn’t expect the silence. Or the looming feeling of doom lingering in the room.

“Sorry if they’re a little weird,” Mikasa whispered to her as she led Sasha to the keyboard. “Jean just announced he’s leaving the band.”

Sasha’s eyes widened, but she didn’t comment. She didn’t know which one Jean was, and even if she did it definitely wasn’t her place to offer her opinion.

She did, however, offer a soft hum. She felt like it would have come off as cold if she didn’t say something.

Mikasa handed her a green folder as Sasha sat herself in the stool. Mikasa briefly explained what songs they were running through today before she left the room altogether and joined the other people on the opposite side of the glass.

Sasha opened the folder, thumbing through the music until she found what she needed. She places the loose pages against the stand, something her personal keyboard didn’t have, before looking down at the keys.

It was a sleek instrument. Glossy black and probably brand new. Sasha adjusted the knobs to the setting she knew she liked before connecting a cord to the speaker.

“Alright, is everyone ready for the first run through?”

The voice over the intercom was loud. When Sasha looked up, she saw a blond man hovering over a microphone in the control room.

It was silent for a moment. When no one had any objections, the brunet with longer hair spoke up.

“We’re good. Ready when you are.”

“Sasha? You okay to continue?”

Sasha faltered for a moment as all eyes turned to her. She felt obligated to nod and say yes, especially with everyone’s gaze rested on her.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Thank god she could sight read.

“Alright. When I hold my hand up get ready. I’ll count down from five. Once my hand goes down, Connie starts the beat.”

Connie held up two thumbs, drumsticks clenched in his hands, before lowering his hands and getting ready to hit his drums.

The blond in the booth held his hand up. Sasha watched as he lowered his fingers one at a time before pointing out.

Connie’s response was immediate. Sasha counted the beats in her head and internalized it, waiting for her cue.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon in the studio. When Erwin — the blond man that had been directing them from the sound booth — called for them to start shutting down the session, Sasha put her music back in the green folder and turned off the electronic keyboard.

She had learned everyone’s names and the loose dynamic they had with each other. On her way out, she waved to them all before closing the door behind her.

Once she got settled in her car, she exhaled a breath. A wide smile stretched across her face as the heater began working.

She drove to the parking lot of a gas station, triple checking to ensure her car was locked before pulling the lever that laid her seat back.

She stared at the roof of her car, wondering what this new opportunity would bring.

It had been a rough session, yes. No one had their parts perfect and some of the notes were discordant and there was only one run through where everyone came in when they were supposed to. But despite that, Sasha fell asleep with a smile.

That had been the most fun she’d ever had.

—

You were in a police station. You were in a police station and you were high.

Granted, your mind was clearer than it had been, but you were still high.

It was a first. One last hoorah! for the end of your junior year of sorts. Of course, it hadn’t really ended yet, but spring finals were less than two weeks away. You counted that as the end.

You, Jazzy and Ella had gone out. You’d planned to meet Dallas and a friend of his at the Chili’s just a few blocks from your apartment. After dinner, the five of you carpooled in Dallas’s car.

You really didn’t know how you ended up at the police station. You just remember Dallas’s friend, Rylan, pulling out a bag of weed.

Next thing you knew you were sitting in the back of a police car, the seats hard beneath you, and on the way to the station.

You were waiting for your dad. That’s what the officer had told you, anyway. You waited with both Ella and Jazzy, Ella absolutely knocked out and snoring against Jazzy’s shoulder. You leaned against her other shoulder. Dallas and Rylan had been taken someplace else.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” you exhaled.

“We’ll go out together,” Jazzy responded.

“Who thought this would be a good idea?”

Jazzy shrugged, her shoulders lifting both yours and Ella’s head up. Ella snorts, but quickly falls into steady breathing.

Silence enveloped the two of you. There was no sound except for the slowly ticking clock, and even then each tick was quieter than you thought was normal.

You grabbed onto Jazzy’s hand and squeezed. She returned the squeeze, and it was just a few more moments before you heard voices and the door opened.

You lifted your head, meeting your father’s gaze. He was tired, his hair disheveled like he had woken up mere minutes earlier. Despite that, he was fully dressed in jeans and an old Blink-182 concert shirt.

He let out a breath at the sight of you and your two friends. You could tell it was from disappointment. That thought was enough to make you squeeze Jazzy’s hand harder and wish you could fall through the wall behind you.

Your dad beckoned you forward with his hand. You stood up and strode over to him. His arm wrapped around you once you were in his reach and he turned to walk out, but paused and turned back.

“Do you girls need a ride?” he asked Jazzy. 

She shook her head. “No, we’re okay, John. My grandma’s coming to get us.”

Your dad nodded. You have a weak wave to Jazzy before leaving.

You were told to wait in the car while your dad signed paperwork. You did as he said, not wanting to argue when he was so obviously done with you for the night.

You got into the front seat of his truck, turning on the heater and listening to the songs playing on the radio.

It was an oldies station. “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka was playing, and you found yourself softly humming along to the song.

You quieted when your dad got in the car. He turned off the radio and started driving, which really only made the whole situation more serious since you were basically being forced to think about your actions.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine.” Your dad stopped at the red light, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel impatiently.

“No it’s not.”

“It’s not, but what can you do?”

Another moment of silence passed. The air was thick— so thick you felt like you were suffocating on it. The light turned green

John sighed, running a hand through his messy hair as he started driving again. “What is going on with you, Y/n?”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed.

“You’re not acting the way you’ve been before. Your grades have gone down and now I have to pick you up from the police station? What the hell happened at Alice’s this summer?”

You just shrug. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. You’d ghosted Damian, yes. Maybe you’d even grieved over it for a bit, but nothing had happened to make you . . . this.

John sighed again, glancing into the side mirrors as he switched lanes.

“You’re just like your mom.”

He’d mumbled it, so obviously you weren’t supposed to hear it. You weren’t even sure he meant to say it out loud, but the words felt like a knife to your heart.

To be like Alice was the last thing you’d ever wanted. You’d deliberately made so many choices so you didn’t turn out like her just to end up being compared to her anyway.

Maybe you were still a little sensitive from the weed, but tears sprung to your eyes at the statement. You sniffed before turning your head to look out the window. You wiped your eyes before the tears could fall.

“You have to get better, Y/n. I’m not going to support you if you can’t even support yourself.”

You take a moment to respond. Of course you want to agree. You want to say that you will get better, even if it was just so you didn’t disappoint him again.

But was that realistic? You knew that once a hole was dug it was hard to get out of. It was more difficult to build yourself up than it was to knock yourself down, and you had kicked yourself to the curb.

Your response left your mouth without much thought.

“Okay.”

—

It was almost more miserable in Tennessee than it was in New York. The only difference was the scenery.

You dad refused to let you go to Alice’s house the summer that followed your junior year. Naturally, you didn’t listen and bought a plane ticket anyway. Ella had driven you to the airport and dropped you off.

You hadn’t planned on going back. You didn’t even want to bother trying to get yourself out of the hole you’d dug, so what was the point of going back to school? You’d stay with your mom until you could buy your own place.

You’d picked up a job at a local diner, working every shift you could and shoving your tips into an emptied baby puffs container that sat on your desk, right below your bulletin board. The board was empty, save for one thing, and that was the card Hange had given you almost a year ago.

You considered the offer every day. You were too ashamed to ever show your face at your dad’s apartment again, and Alice was constantly jumping the line between being suicidal and a semi-productive member of society. Did you really have as much in America as you did last year? Would it be more worth it to go to Germany?

Every day you reconsidered the offer, and every day you gave yourself no answer and instead went to bed. You found yourself longing for that even more day after day.

It took copious amounts of courage for you to finally call one of the numbers listed on the battered card. It took you a moment to figure out how to do it, but a Google search later had you holding your phone up to your ear and waiting for someone to pick up.

“This is Hange Zoë.”

They’d said it in German. It took you just a moment to translate what they said in your head, and when you did you exhaled in relief. It was still Hange’s number.

You internally thanked your late grandmother for teaching you German when you were little. You had no real reason to use it, but it was coming in handy now.

“Hi. Uhm, I’m not sure if you remember me, but this is Y/n.”

Hange was silent for a moment. They switched to English when they said, “Remind me where I’d know you from.”

You took a deep breath. This was more nerve-wracking than you’d anticipated.

“You came to Brooklyn around this time last year. I was performing at a blue’s bar and you came up to me after.”

You hoped to god they remembered who you were. If they didn’t, then any hope you had of going somewhere would be blown out.

“Oh! Yes, Y/n Kraney.”

“It’s actually L/n now,” you softly corrected. You’d stopped going by Kraney after your dad compared you to Alice.

“Y/n L/n. Sounds like the next star.” You smiled. You couldn’t tell if they were being genuine or just saying that to butter you up, but it made you feel good nonetheless. “Now, I assume you’re calling because you’ve reconsidered my offer, is that correct?”

“Yes,” you said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Wonderful!” You heard shuffling coming from their line. Your brows furrowed in confusion from the sound, but you didn’t comment on it. “Is it right to assume you’re going to be moving here?”

“Yes.”

“What sorts of arrangements will you need? We can get you almost anything.”

You stuttered, wiping your sweaty palm against your pants. “A ticket there. And a place to stay. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, just . . . something.”

Hange went silent for a moment. You assumed they were writing something down. “Alright. We can get that done for you. Say, I’ve been wanting to show my coworkers your talent since I watched you in New York. Ya think that if I gave you a date and location you’d be able to come to an open house?”

“Like, where I’d sing?”

“Yeah. Lots of execs and producers go things like this to scout out the next big thing. I want to show Erwin we have that.”

“Okay . . . Yeah. Sure. Just let me know where and when.”

Hange agreed. They told you about an open night that they would be present at a bar called Quasimodo. You agreed to meet them there, and continued to make more plans about how you would get there.

Another thing you requested was a translator. Or someone that could teach you more German. Hange immediately gave you the number of a friend before promptly hanging up.

You exhaled when they did, wondering if you’d regret this decision later down the line.

—

Y/N: I think going to Germany at that time was probably the best decision I could have made. Who can say if I would even be here if I hadn’t decided to call Hange that day.

I boarded a plane nearly a week later. I met with Hange and they showed me to the apartment that had been rented for me, and I took a few German classes. I met up with Hange and Erwin at Quasimodo a few days later, and Erwin agreed to keep me signed with them.

CONNIE: I think someone told me once that Y/n was the one to go on after us at Quasimodo. I think it might have been Hange, actually. But I remember thinking how crazy it was that our paths were so close to crossing before we officially came together.

EREN: After the Quasimodo gig it was maybe . . . two years before Y/n came in for “The River.” I think. Without her, Heart Attack would have been a one hit wonder.

Y/N: Yeah, it was about two years before Hange proposed a collaboration. Those two years weren’t very eventful for me. Hange and I produced more professional sounding versions of all the songs I had made, and I was steadily growing.

JEAN: Erwin came into the studio with us one day. He told us that the label wanted to cut ties with the band.

ARMIN: We weren’t making very good music. Everything we made was doing horribly. Our songs actually flopped so bad that Erwin pulled a couple strings to have those songs taken off the public record, actually.

SASHA: That was really scary for me. Even if we weren’t doing well, being with Heart Attack was already giving me a better life. I had managed to move out of my car into a small studio apartment, and I was terrified I would lose that.

EREN: Erwin said he was this close to giving us up. I was convinced that session would be our last in studio, but then he brought up Y/n.

Y/N: I remember going out for coffee with my friend, Annie, when Hange called me. They proposed the idea of a collab with a band I had never heard of.

MIKASA: Adding Y/n into the mix was . . . an interesting choice. Not to say it was a bad one, but . . .

ARMIN: The girl Erwin proposed we make a song with had a very different sound than the one we were reaching for. We’d heard one of her songs on the radio before, and yeah, it was good, but it’s wasn’t really what we did.

CONNIE: After Erwin brought it up to us, we went back to the apartment and listened to some of her music. Jean was definitely not a fan.

JEAN: She was a fucking flower. All she did was write songs about her exes and how much she missed them or songs about how she wanted to find love.

CONNIE: He and Eren got into a fight about it. They were yelling to each other about whether or not to do the collab without consulting the rest of us.

ARMIN: Eren snapped and said, “Well you’re leaving the band anyway, so what does it matter?” 

EREN: He threw a fucking plate at me.

JEAN: Did he mention the knife he pointed at me?

EREN: I was cooking and made a general motion. It was not that dramatic.

MIKASA: It was a really bad argument. Jean and Eren have always had this strained relationship. The best analogy I can think of is like toxic exes. They were always fighting, but when they were able to lift each other up they succeeded together. A lot of the success we had came from them and Y/n as a trio. When they weren’t at each other’s throats, of course.

ARMIN: Jean had obviously brought up leaving the band before, but I think he had been putting it off because he didn’t want to separate himself from us. After that night, though, he was dead set on leaving as soon as possible.

What changed his mind?

ARMIN: Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I have my suspicions, but . . . I’ll let you ask and find out from him. 

JEAN: I told Eren I would do one more song, and that song would be the one with Y/n. And when it wasn’t a hit, I would laugh in his face and tell him I told him so.

Y/N: I told Hange that I would give the band a try, but if I didn’t like what they were doing then I was calling it quits.

So you liked it more than you had anticipated?

Y/N: [smiling] Yeah. I guess you could say that.

the exposition is almost over I swear they all officially meet in the next chapter

i did not mean for this chapter to take me so long either i’m so sorry 😭

TAGLIST: @arlerts-angel @conniesrockstargf @fvckingeetar @pluckyduxck @kkkingsman @beaniebaby12 @catkidsposts if you'd like to join the taglist please comment or DM to let me know!

next part >>

[emmitaaa4]

Getting exponentially tired of the “elriels want 👹” posts in the elain tags where they proceed to either A) outright invent stuff B) act holier than thou about how they care so much for Elain because they C) misconstrue the little they hear from our side in bad faith, or D) just completely miss the point they’re addressing.

it’s one thing to be bitter about a ship, but geez theyre getting mad at generalizations they made up about what we think. it has to be tiring. non?

small rant beneath, just to vent. yes i know i can (& should) block certain tags, but reading frustrating content is a hobby of sorts.

Im genuinely convinced all these “ewriel”-myths they keep talking about are a result of a bad game of telephone—they hear a random thing a gwynriel says, go “they’re all stupid/delusional/immature (insult of choice) so i don’t doubt what you’re saying”, then repeat it to others.

It’s obvious by the way they wholeheartedly believe that Elain is our puritanical-warrior-self-insert we use to vicariously F Azriel (😃✋). Doesn’t help that they usually don’t look as deeply into Elain as we do & tend to get stuck on obviously superficial statements about her: they cannot seem to fathom an Elain that isn’t just a once-bright socialite wilting away sans her sun-mate. So any hint of darkness/savviness we see in her is just us moulding her into Y/N. sigh

anyways.

I can say i’ve read their posts on here, a ton prior to being involved and some now. I’ve seen their tiktoks & video essays, their powerpoints & reddit posts. i’ve seen their comments all over insta/tiktok (kinda hard to miss, they jump on elriel content with their “um shadows and um pliable bones and mates!!” comments). I am WELL aware of what the general consensus is on that side—which is why I am generally unbothered by GA, don’t mind EL, and am just peacefully sailing aboard my ship waiting for it to reach destination.

And because I care about Elain’s journey, I try to see the story the way they do when i encounter certain elucien arguments. For if i am to even just privately engage in the sHip wArs, i know to remain ✨critical✨ and ✨open minded✨.

… there’s no point turning discussions into angry posts against imaginary adversaries.

EVERY elriel i’ve talked to would read an elucien book because it is Elain’s story we are most anticipating. It’s just very telling to me that very few would do the same; that there’s not a whiff of willingness from most of them to listen to the other side.

The funny thing is that all those anti eWrieL posts** i’ve read tend to address twisted versions of “the elriel narrative.” They take things out of context, or say we have the same 3 arguments—which is genuinely insane bc if you know our ship so well, how can you be off by like 2 orders of magnitude ??? (exaggerating if it wasn’t clear, we can’t know these days).

** Their pro GA content reads very anti-Az, used to be very anti-elain, and has a narrow scope ngl. While the bonus matters, it seems like that is ALL they’ve read. They don’t think much about Elain’s journey or powers or decisions, which is just logically not the best way to analyze the series given she IS what’s to come.

✨Just some common myths they believe✨:

they repeatedly claim that elriels want poor elain to be a kickass warrior torturer to fit Az because they A) don’t actually read our stuff B) enjoy thinking we hate elain, and C) can’t fanthom that spying isn’t 007 ninja activities.

apparently we ship elriel because we think they have this big great romance OFF PAGE 😭. how in the hell— i’ll make a post on this one istg it’s lowkey funny. quick, were nessian strangers and unfeeling towards each other at the start of SF ???? damnit i must’ve missed that.

En tout cas. End of rant the rest stays in the drafts lmao.

but istg one day i’ll cave in and unleash the essays of rebuttals and psychoanalyses of their arguments / thought processes just for shit and giggles.

[how-serene]

Next To You

Pairing - Darryl x Fem!Reader

Summary - Fed up with your parents' constantly arguing, you confide in Darryl.

Word Count - 1k

Warnings - heavy angst, comfort, reader and darryl are teens, established friendship, darryl being a sweetheart, mentions of an unhealthy marriage, reader just venting, no use of y/n, mother and daughter dynamics

April, 1986

The slam of the front door reverberated throughout the apartment building, shaking the paper thin walls. Your stomps echoed down the stairwell, following you outside. Brooklyn’s humidity stuck to your skin, the dense air almost suffocating. The spring moon hung high in the sky, illuminating down on you. A street lamp flickered, bugs hovering around its dim glow. 

You sat on the front steps, bringing your knees together. Above you, the sounds of your parents' voices spilled through the open window, a series of curses being the only thing you could make out. Embarrassment creeped up your neck, knowing you weren’t the only one who heard them. It felt as if someone had dug their fingers in your heart, splitting it open. 

Your home felt warped, like walking through a fun maze. Mirrors twisted and warped familiar faces, while doors led to inky black spaces that stretched on forever. It was dizzying, knowing every turn you made and door you opened was wrong. The bitter arguments between your parents, where spit and threats would fly, was draining. Yet your mother claimed somewhere beneath all the rubble she loved him. She always had her hands clasped together when she said it, as if it were a prayer. You wondered sometimes, if she was lying. 

But when the kitchen light would get caught on her tears, you knew it was the truth. Despite it all, it was the fucking truth. 

A pair of black loafers appeared beside you, nudging the side of your foot. 

“I heard your door slam…

His voice wormed its way into your head, pulling you back into focus. Darryl sat beside you, his knee knocking against yours. The wool fabric of his coat itched against your bare arm, amplifying the closeness between you two. 

“I just had to get out of there.” You muttered, picking at your nails. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. You two settled in a comfortable silence, as you stared off in the street. A stray dog made its way past, walking along the curb and weaving its way through the silver trash cans. Its shaggy fur was matted, either with dirt build-up or blood. It trotted off, in search of food and a warm corner to rest in. 

“I just…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “I just hate them sometimes, when they get like this. All the constant screaming matches, and anger, every single day.” 

“You shouldn’t say you hate them-

“But I do!” You snapped, looking over at him. Darryl leaned back, flinching from your sudden outburst. You could feel him shifting away from you, the little sliver of distance growing. Shame creeped up your neck, anchoring you to the stone steps. The flicker of anger in you quickly died, replaced by a disgust so deep it waded in your stomach. 

“I’m so sorry, Darryl.” You whispered, a sob working its way up your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes, before overflowing. You could taste their saltiness on the corners of your lips. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Darryl reassured, reaching for your hand. The gloves he wore were warm as they cradled your wrist. You wished he took them off, so you could feel the lines in his palm pressed against yours. 

“I don’t want to be like them.” You confessed, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. “I’m so scared I am, though, that my future is going to be like theirs. Settled with a dead-beat man, no career, while finding every excuse to stay.” 

Tears dribbled down your cheek, blurring your vision. The realization that you might be like your mother was nauseating. Perhaps this was every daughter's fate, to realize their body was never their own, but their mother’s. Every-time you looked in the mirror, the smallest feature was a reminder of her. You wondered, if you peeled back your skin, would you find her underneath? 

Darryl tugged at your hand, a silent plea for you to look at him. His wide doe eyes shimmered, as he reached up and swiped at your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You clutched onto his wrist, bottom lip quivering as you bit back a cry. 

“You’re not like them.” He stated, the gravity of his words stalling your racing thoughts. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because…” He stalled, licking his lips. “You’re too good to ever be like them. You don’t hurt others just for the sake of hurting them. God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You're wonderful, I wish you believed that.” 

“I yelled at you though, just like they do all the time.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t yell at me, though. You were just upset about your parents.” 

You sighed, feeling the fight leave your body. His words echoed in your mind, but you weren’t sure if you believed them. The shattered remnants of your mother were still inside you, as with every daughter. It waded inside you, stirring the core of your stomach. 

“I wish I could just pack up and leave.” You said, leaning into his side. Darryl placed his arm over your shoulders, pressing you into the crook of his neck. You could smell the cologne on the collar of his coat, mint with rosemary. 

“You will, one day.” He promised, placing his chin on the top of your head. “I’ll be there with you, when you finally do.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait for one day, Darryl.” You said, the words carrying an unknown weight in your mouth. With each passing day, you felt your soul splinter more and more. 

Darryl must have sensed it, his fingers faintly dug into your arm, keeping you beside him. The threat of you suddenly up and disappearing was too close. 

“Hold on a bit longer, for me.” He pleaded, voice shaking. 

The warm night air ruffled the back of your hair, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe you were anywhere else. 

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Twelve: Turn the Corner

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Angst, cursing, some deep conversations, forgiveness, fluff, and a lil bit of smut. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: So, I thought there'd be a couple more chapters, but Joel said no. He wanted the tale to end here, so it does. What can I say, that man gets what he wants. There will be an epilogue, though. He's not the total boss of me. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Days after the fall, you felt a lot better. Physically, at least.

Emotionally? That was an entirely different story. You didn’t know how you felt, torn between two dueling desires – one for self-respect along with the respect you are due from Joel and the other a life with Joel. Was it too much to hope for both at the same time?

You and Joel still hadn’t talked about that morning, each of you dancing in circles around the topic but never coming right out to discuss it. There was no getting around it, you knew that, but still you hesitated. Why was it so hard?

Joel, being a man of action, showed you he was trying every minute after you were hurt. He took exceptional care of you, making sure you wanted for nothing as you recovered. His efforts bordered on too much after a few days, leaving you wanting a bit of space to think. Despite the care he took of you, you couldn’t get past the hurt in your heart once the pain in your head eased.

The anguish in his big, brown eyes when you told him you needed space haunted you, but you stood strong in your convictions. The return to your cabin was surreal after the luxury of Joel’s quarters and spacious bed, but it was necessary to decompress and sort through all the jumbled thoughts bouncing around in your muddled mind.

“Ah, the prodigal bunk mate returns!” Tess teased as you sauntered into the cabin the morning before the next charter started. “Finally gracing us mere peasants with your presence, are you?”

“Oh, shove off, ya muppet,” you snarked, plopping down on your bunk. Holy hell, Joel’s bed was a lot more comfortable that this lumpy pile of cotton and springs, you thought.

“How are you feeling?” Tess jumped down from her bed to perch herself at the end of yours.

You shrugged. “Physically, I’m fine.”

A single eyebrow arced upwards, reading between the lines as always. “And emotionally?”

Again, you shrugged, tears tickling the back of your eyes at the soft, sympathetic look on Tess’s face. The pair of you leant back against opposite bulkheads of your bunk and Tess stretched her legs, softly bumping her knee against yours.

“Let it off your chest, Brit,” Tess encouraged. “Better out than in, as they say.”

A snort escaped before you could stop it. “I think ‘they’ were referring to vomit, Tess.”

“Whatever, the sentiment is still the same. You need to vent and I’m here for it.” Tess smiled, a little mischief glinting in her eyes. “Plus, I’ve known Joel a long time. I’m well aware of what an emotionally constipated fuckwit he can be sometimes.”

That drew a laugh from you, which you realized was her goal. “He really can be, yeah?”

“You have no idea,” Tess agreed with a chuckle. “He’s gotten a lot better with age, but he’s still a man, so of course he’s as dumb as a box of rocks when it comes to emotional intelligence and expressing himself properly.”

The two of you spent the morning chatting as you recounted your view of things between you and Joel and Tess shared some insights into Joel’s mindset and how he’s tripping all over himself to make things right again. It was an enjoyable morning, especially once the conversation moved away from Joel and more onto Tess’s life and what she like to do during off season.

As you chatted, you briefly thought back to the initial days on the yacht, how you thought she and Joel were an item, and how much that bummed you out. Knowing the both of them as you now did, the idea of them as a couple was laughable. Tess would run circles around him until inevitably driving him crazy.

Around mid-day, Sarah joined you both, bearing leftover sandwiches that Tess made yesterday. She squeezed in between the two of you, her back against the bulkhead wall. It was a tight fit with three grown women and the low ceiling of the top bunk looming overhead, but you all made it work.

The addition of Sarah raised your spirits further. She was such a spitfire, caring and witty, and always ready and willing to throw her father under the bus for one thing or another.

“My dad’s an idiot,” she blurted around a mouthful of food as you lamented once again on not knowing how to proceed. “But he’s an idiot in love, anyone can see that.”

That stopped you in your tracks.

Eyes wide and unbelieving, you stared at Sarah. “You think he’s in love with me?”

Meeting your gaze head on, Sarah nodded, dark brown eyes speaking volumes. “Oh, I know he’s in love with you. He told me yesterday. It’s why he’s so distraught over everything and why he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until now.”

“Geez, kid, you don’t think he’d want to be the one to tell her something like that?” Tess chimed in with a chuckle, shaking her head at the younger woman.

Still stunned, you just sat there staring between the two of them. Joel was in love with you. He was in love with you.

“I’m in love with him, too.” You didn’t even realize you spoke the words aloud until you noticed Sarah and Tess staring at you with bright, knowing smiles on their faces.

“Duh,” Sarah teased, patting your leg. “We already knew that.”

Nodding, Tess added, “Maybe it’s time for the two of you to sit down and have a very serious conversation. Get it out of the way before this next charter starts.”

An hour and a shower later, you found yourself making your way to the bridge in search of Joel. The girls were right, this would all weigh on your mind until Joel and you sat down and had a serious chat. But what would you say? How do you even start a conversation like the one you needed to have?

You practiced some openers on your way up the decks, mumbling them to yourself with each step. Joel, you great knob head… No, no, that wouldn’t work. Joel, you bloody prat… Why was everything your brain came up with some variation of a British insult? You did not want to sling insults at the man, just let him know how very hurt you were.

Before you knew it – and well before you thought of the right words to say – you found yourself at the door to the bridge. It was now or never. You opened the door with a shaky hand, stepping through only to find Frank manning the helm. Your face dropped before you could stop it, but your lips quickly tilted upwards into a smile, oddly relieved.

“Hey doll, what are you up to?” Frank’s warm smile immediately calmed your frayed nerves. “Looking for Joel?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought it due time to talk.”

Frank smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, it’s definitely that. You two have a lot to figure out. He’s in his quarters.” Gesturing around the corner with a supportive nod, he added, “Good luck, not that you need it. Joel might, though.”

Flashing Frank a grateful half smile, you edged towards Joel’s room, knuckles rapping on the door twice after a deep breath. Maybe you should have asked Frank for pointers on how to start the conversation. Too late now. You’d just have to go with whatever came out of your mouth and hope for the best.

The door opened to reveal Joel, dark curls awry and thick glasses framing his red-rimmed eyes. In a word, he was a mess. You wondered if he even left his quarters since you returned to yours. Glancing around, it didn’t look like it. That made you feel better. He was as wrecked about things as you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes apprehensive and distressed. “Everythin’ alright? Is your headache back?”

Even a mess, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway was a sight to behold. God, he was too handsome for words. And his obvious worry over you only made him more so. Clearing your throat, you reminded yourself why you were standing in his doorway mere hours after insisting you needed space.

“Can we talk?”

His brows darted up in surprise. “Uh, sure, yeah, of course.” Joel eyed you for a few moments, clearly uncertain about what to do or say, before adding, “Do you, uh, want to talk here or go somewhere less…”

Your lips tilted up as he trailed off, knowing his brain was working a mile a minute to find his words. “Here’s fine. It will give us privacy.” Your response visibly stunned him. He obviously wasn’t expecting that response from you.

Stepping back after another long moment, Joel ushered you into his private space. The bed still unmade from when you left first thing that morning, you opted to sit in the chair at the desk along the bulkhead, leaving Joel to take a seat on a corner of the bed. You stared at each other for a while, neither knowing how to start, until you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

After a few false starts, you were finally able to find your words.

“Joel, I’m in love with you, but you hurt me. Like really hurt me. And I don’t know how to come back from that.” You watched the expression on his face vacillate from awed and hopeful to wounded and regretful.

“Sweetheart –” he started, his dark eyes round and wet and not quite meeting yours, but you cut him off.

“I know that morning was hard for you, that you were hesitant to start anything with me during season to begin with, but you made the conscious choice to take things further. You did that and still you made it out to be my fault the moment something didn’t go right. You made me the fall guy. That… that really hurt. And it wasn’t fair.”

You paused, already feeling a heavy weight lifted from your chest at having spoken your peace, giving Joel the opportunity to respond. His beautiful brown eyes were large and glassy, lips in a pout as he searched for words to justify his actions, but there were none, you both knew. He was silent so long, dejectedly staring at you that you opened your mouth to say more when he finally found his words.

“I’m an utter asshole, sweetheart. I told you the other day, I won’t do you the disrespect of giving you poor excuses. I was completely in the wrong. I know it, you know it, everyone on this damn boat knows it – believe me, I’ve heard it from nearly every one of them. And I’m glad they feel comfortable enough in this environment and with me to defend you and put me in my place.”

Your lips quirked at that, causing his own to tilt upwards slightly. “We have great people on this crew,” you admitted fondly. Joel’s smile widened ever so slightly.

“I never meant to hurt you – never intended to treat you like I did. I’m ashamed, plain and simple.” Joel cleared his throat, hands running up and down his thighs in a nervous tick. “I can only promise to do better because I love you, sweetheart, and I never want to be the cause of your pain.”

Your eyes leaked fat droplets of saltwater down your cheeks. “You love me?” Even though Sarah basically told you already, it was completely different hearing those words directly from Joel’s lips, the rough timber in his voice matching the sincerity in his gaze.

He nodded, flashing you a watery smile. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I don’t even know how it happened so quickly, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll never regret falling in love with you.”

“Joel…” you drew out his name in a long sigh. “I love you, too, but you can’t ever treat me like that again. It’s perfectly fine to be nervous or scared, but we need to communicate rather than snap and push each other away. Okay?”

Joel stood, nodding solemnly as he moved to kneel before you. “I understand. I promise to never treat you like that again. I promise to work on my communication skills. I promise to spend every day proving that I’m worthy of your love.”

His hands clutched your waist by the time he finished speaking. You ran your fingers through his thick curls, mussing them further as you pulled him in for a kiss. The press of his lips against yours soft and sweet, it almost felt like the first time again.

Your heart still hurt, but the pain ebbed away with every soft touch and loving word from Joel. Everything in you told you to forgive him but not let your guard down fully, still wary of getting hurt further. As if he could sense your hesitation, Joel held you close, asking you to stay the night in his quarters. You couldn’t deny him, wanting to connect physically to ease the residual emotional ache.

Joel spread you out on his bed, his mouth tasting every inch of your dewy skin with reverence, as if he needed to sear the taste and feel of you into his memory. He worshiped your body from head to toe, no spot left unexplored. You longed to return each kiss, each tender touch, but Joel insisted this evening was all about you. There would be plenty of time to explore him later.

“I adore you,” he whispered into the soft skin behind your knee.

“I ache for you,” he murmured against your belly.

“I. Love. You,” he said with finality before his lips connected once more with yours.

Shooting stars flashed across your closed eyelids when Joel slipped his cock inside you. Rocking with the gentle flex of his hips, he moved inside you, cock caressing that spongey spot that set you ablaze with each thrust. His mouth alternated between fervent kisses to nibbling on your earlobes and whispering lovely, naughty things in your ears.

It was so different from the other times you had sex together. It was softer, sweeter, and somehow more intimate and meaningful than the other times combined. This… this was making love, you thought. Something you’d never experienced before, and you wondered how you ever lived without it.

You came hard at the realization, giving into every feeling Joel drew from you with his movements and words, the fluttering of your walls around him nearly choking his cock. He came shortly after, stilling as he spilled inside you with a drawn-out cry of your name.

You stayed just as you were, your body beneath Joel’s, his cock still sheathed inside you, staring into each other’s eyes and seeing right into the very essence of each other. This was love. The caring, the forgiving, the open vulnerability… the cracking wide open of your souls to admit that you were hurt or scared and finding the strength to admit flaws and love in spite of them, or because of them.

Life and love were imperfect, and there was beauty in those imperfections.

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you whispered into the night, falling asleep with your head tucked into the curve of his neck, his warm skin blanketing you better than the warmest down comforter ever could.

The echo of your name sounded far away as Joel whispered the words back to you.

This. This was love.

The final weeks of the charter season passed in a blur with long days of work and longer nights of pleasure. The two of you could not get enough of each other, not caring about the exhaustion from limited sleep. You never returned to your cabin for sleeping after that night full of confessions and new beginnings with Joel. It was no surprise to any of the crew, really. There were no secrets on the yacht, nor any talk of impropriety or special treatment. Every person on that boat could see the love practically floating in the air between the two of you as if it was a tangible thing you could hold in your hands.

To demonstrate their approval of the two of you together, the crew placed bets on how soon you’d move to Austin, how soon you’d get engaged, how soon you’d get married. Those little buggers bet on everything when it came to you and Joel. They didn’t bother to hide it either, flaunting the board in your faces with Tommy proudly taking the lead as bookmaker. You couldn’t even be mad about it. They were all just so damn happy for you both, it was infectious.

Once the final round of charter guests departed, Joel took the yacht back out to sea for one last day and the crew celebrated with a party on the sundeck. Tommy and Jake emptied the lazarette of all the water toys for the crew to enjoy. Tess cooked up some delicious tapas on the barbecue. Sammy played DJ with the massive collection of songs on his phone And Sarah, sweet Sarah, made sure the sundeck bar was fully stocked with everyone’s favorite alcohol.

After racing around on a jet ski with Joel, the pair of you settled into the hot tub, sharing a bottle of wine as you watched Tommy, Ellie, Tess, and the interior crew dance around the deck in cheap, fake grass skirts they dug up from who knows where. Frank and Bill sat on the loungers sharing their own bottle of wine, Bill scowling away at the raucous behavior of the others. You would miss every single one of these people who became friends who were more like family to you in a few short months.

You marveled at that. Everything moved faster on the yacht, but what was time, really, when you forged such connections that would last a lifetime?

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers. This is probably gonna end in smut.

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Special thanks to @hellfiremunsonn, I am a wreck without her, lol. This chapter is a little short. We are doing a slow burn, ladies , gentleman and nonbinary friends. Next Chapter will have Eddie in it I promise! Please check out Chapter one before you start this one. Thank you!

⛤Chapter 2: Pulling Strings You walk into work early and meet up with your manager. You explain that you need a week off to visit family in Hawkins. They calculate your vacation time and approve it, it's official! In two weeks you're going back to your childhood hometown. You asked a couple of coworkers to help cover your shift and got lucky, they both agreed they could use the extra hours. It was the longest two weeks that you've ever experienced. You passed the time with some shopping for your trip. You made sure to get all the essentials, and a couple of new cute outfits to bring too. You visited your mom and told her all about your plans, she's excited for you! She even sent you off with a little extra money, just in case.

Everything appears to be falling into place. The anticipation is killing you. But you start to find yourself thinking about Eddie quite often. You thought about his dark brown eyes, and how shockingly cute he was when he smiled. Back when things got difficult with your family, Eddie was always down for some late-night talks, listening to you vent for hours sometimes.

The night before you left, you spent time packing, calling Steve, and confirming some minor details. You took a shower before bed and watched some late night TV. When you finally decide to turn in, you crawl under the comforter and try your best to get some rest. Even if you still feel a huge pit in your stomach.

���--------------

You're beginning to think you should have packed lighter as you hauled your bags down to the car. You load everything into the trunk and settle into the driver's seat. You take a deep breath and start the car, the engine roars and you hit the gas. There's no next time, it's now or never. Time to take a leap of faith and do your best to be a better friend. You might not get another chance. The sun shines through your windshield as you turn the bend, the fresh Indiana air is crisp and clean. As you see the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign, your body starts to tense up. You try to recall the directions Steve gave you in the correct order. You turned onto main street and kept on until you saw the blue apartments named “Hawkin’s Heights”. You pulled into the parking lot and backed into a parking space carefully and cut the engine. 

It took you what felt like forever to get out of the car. But after a few deep breaths and some time to mentally hype yourself up, you are ready. You walk upstairs and follow the numbers until you find apartment 106. You knock on the door and it instantly opens.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it!” Steve looks completely thrilled to see you. He scoops you up into a hug and pulls you inside the apartment, shutting the door behind you.

“Hi Stevie” You laughed “It’s so nice to see you!” Steve finally lets go and you recognize the other familiar face in the room. It was none other than Dustin Henderson.

“Oh my god, Dustin?! You’re like…all grown up!” You can't believe how mature he looks now. You give him a massive hug, he's taller than you now. Time sure does fly, kids sure do grow up fast. The boys head downstairs to help you lug your bags inside, thank goodness you didn't have to do that alone.

Once you get inside you notice the boys are taking your stuff down the hall, and you follow them. Once you walk through the threshold you immediately know whose room this is.

“You’ll be staying in Eddie's room. He comes back from tour in two days so you’ll see him then. I’m sure he won’t mind at all.” Steve explains so casually like it's no big deal.

“Oh god, I couldn’t just take his room. I would feel so bad. What if I take the couch?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

“Can’t, Dustin is on the couch. His mom went on this singles cruise. Even now I’m still somehow babysitting.” Steve laughs and Dustin scoffs at him. Your face turns a little red at the thought of sleeping in your high school crush’s bed.

“Don't listen to him, Y/N, my mom is just paranoid.” Dustin retorts as he follows Steve to the kitchen.

They both leave you to order some pizza and give you time to settle in. The room is truthfully very clean, there are Metal posters all over the walls, along with flyers from shows he’s played. He has some Christmas lights hanging for some ambiance. You take a seat on his queen-sized bed, it feels really comfy. The back comforter and black pillow cases were so him. There are guitars hanging on the wall, a couple of guitar stands, and amps off to the side.

I guess it can't be helped. You'll have to deal with it for now, maybe you can crash at Robin’s later. You shut the door and find yourself some lounge clothes to wear, settling on a pair of shorts and a large Metallica t-shirt. After brushing out your hair and setting out some clothes for tomorrow, you decide to join the boys in the kitchen.

“We got two large pepperoni pizzas,” Dustin announces, Steve opens two beers and offers you one. You gladly take it and grin as you see the label.

“Did you buy my favorite beer on purpose?” You ask, poking fun at how much of an accommodating host Steve can be. When the pizza arrives you all settle down in the living room and watch some late-night sitcom. Steve tells you all about the lengths he's gone to get everyone to gather here.

Nancy is coming to visit with Johnathan, they are staying with her parents. Robin has no idea you were here, Steve had to come up with some ridiculous excuse for her not to show up today. Eddie called to tell him when he would be returning in a couple of days and Steve had to play it cool like nothing was going on. He told them we were throwing a get-together at the Hideout but didn't mention you in the slightest.

“Wow…Look at you pulling all the strings.” You clapped softly and Steve took a little bow. You were truly impressed with his ability to put all of this together. “Thank you, Steve. This is so cool of you.”

“It was nothin’ really. You called and I had to make it happen.” He shrugs with a half smile. You hug your friend and decide to excuse yourself. You had a long drive and it was exhausting. You walk back to Eddie’s room to turn in for the night. When you look over at the nightstand you see a pack of cigarettes, half empty. Eddie used to bum you cigs when you hung out at his trailer. You flash back to the time your Dad was drunk and acting out, arguing with your mom. You ran off to Eddie’s place and your mom almost called the cops.

You grabbed one out of the pack and used the lighter next to the ashtray. You opened up a window and placed the cigarette between your lips and lit it. The taste was like shaking hands with an old friend. It was smooth and you almost feel bad for breaking your 3 year streak but also, one won't hurt…probably. That same nostalgic feeling you felt opening those boxes came flooding back in.

We were just teenagers, there were so many signs that he was head over heels for you but you were naive, oblivious, and it hurt you a little. Neither of you had the guts to say anything to each other. A regret that made you feel shameful to say the least. You’ve wondered if he still has feelings for you or is he off having the time of his life with his groupie fangirls?

When you try to define this feeling it's next to impossible, you feel a sense of anticipation. It's like you’re eager to relive some feelings, or longing for a simpler time. You take a few drags and try to wave the smoke and your insecurities out the window. You can't wait to see Robin tomorrow. It's time to get some sleep, you have a feeling you won't be getting much for the rest of the week.

You put out your cigarette and shut the window, turn out the light, and finally crawl under the covers. You have to admit, his bed smells really good, like fresh linen and men's cologne. It made you feel especially comfortable, and it didn't take long to ease into a deep slumber. You could get used to this kind of contentment. 

[sukunasweetheart]

//just me venting about sukuna haters sorry

Not me seeing so much discourse about whether sukuna is a well written villain or not... he essentially has no backstory shown as of yet and we barely know anything about him but he is still one of the most naturally interesting and compelling characters in the whole damn series bro 💀 buckle up bc its about to get lengthy (im just glazing sukuna in this post ngl so 🧎‍♀️)

so many whiny ass mfs are weeping about how he "doesn't have any personal goals or a proper reason to be a villain" when that is the whole point???? He lives on his own desires and satisfactions and does whatever he wants to, because he is capable enough to do that. Mfs want "real villains" but cant even handle sukuna 💀 ive seen too many shit ass threads and poorly articulated "critiques" on his character that dont make any valid points. If you can't even separate your personal dislike of a character from your analysis of their writing, dont even bother posting that shit please 😭😭😭 the fact that we haven't even gotten any information about his background yet and people are jumping the gun about him being "poorly written" is already saying a lot 🤨

The fact that yall are so bitter and angry about him that you can write 500+ words about how oh-so-terrible of a villain he is kinda proves that he's doing his job well tbh 💁‍♀️

What also bothers me to no END is how people compare him with villains of other series, who had compelling sob stories that made people empathise with them. Thats nice and all but why should all villains have grand ideals and be subject to feelings of empathy/sympathy from their audience?

Part of what makes sukuna so interesting is how he's not tied down by morals, rules or long term goals in life. He doesn't limit himself, which is what makes him an unpredictable character. He's completely left behind what it means to be human in many ways, and he's clearly not a character written to be empathised with. He is very purposefully inhumane and distant from everyone else, and that feeling transcends from within the series to real life as well. There is a clear lack of understanding bc most of us can't comprehend what its like to just live without being goal-oriented.

Sukuna is a true anomaly in the sense that he doesnt really fit in any kind of box within the series. He's born from man, but its clear that he separates himself from humans (and nobody else considers him human, either). He's not a cursed spirit. He hovers between life and death. The narrator referred to him as the honoured one, whilst angel referred to him as the disgraced one.

These little contradictions in his character make him all the more complicated and interesting to think about. And even recently, he's been shown to waver a little bit momentarily in the manga, questioning his own irritation at yuuji. He's capable of self reflection, and though sukuna does whatever he wants for the most part, he doesn't blindly go into things without some thought first, he's a constant thinker and analyser, and an intelligent one at that.

And honestly, he is always such a joy to watch and read, his personality is so flavourful, and the way he carries himself is very attractive. He's not afraid to get messy or of getting hurt, theres so much chaos in the way he does things and yet he also has a huge element of gracefulness to him, which shines through the poetic way he speaks. Its undeniable that sukuna simply oozes charisma...

And this isnt talked about enough but this man is genuinely so effortlessly funny (in a kind of sinister way i guess?) Like yes he is an old ass man having real beef with one FIFTEEN YEAR OLD for very little reason, he accidentally healed yuujis arm and somehow expected him to be grateful for it despite how he literally ripped his heart out afterwards, then he proceeded to sit on him after kicking him down likeeee 😭 what kind of behaviour is this sir

His facial expressions at yorozus yapping 💀 THE WAY HE COMPARED YUUJIS FACE OF DESPAIR TO THE HARIMA STATUE 😭😭😭💀😭💀💀😭 omg that was so foul but i was fucking losing it ngl

How he randomly compared gojo to a fish and started talking abt his scales... thats a very unique and descriptive comparison, isnt it? Even in the recent leaks, he was 100% ready and squaring up to a literal child talking abt "youre starting to get annoying" LIKE HELPPP 😭 HE FR SAID "fuck them kids and fuck you too"

I saw someone saying that sukuna has no passion, like are we talking about the same character....? This man is a literal jujutsu NERD 💀💀 he truly recognises talented sorcerers and the only time hes seen to be having genuine fun is when hes fighting a mf... is that not passion? This is literally sukuna when it comes to jujutsu: 🤓

Anyway im done here now, im pretty sure i missed a lot of things i couldve talked about as well but ive done enough yapping

[7ndipity]

Latibule

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: After someone close to you breaks your trust yet again, you go to your safe place, Joon.

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied toxic relationship/home life, not proofread

A/N: I wrote this like a month ago when I needed to vent, but I thought some of y'all might appreciate it, so I'll share it here. I almost feel like it could be the start of a series, but idk, lmk what you think?(Also, I tried to leave the 'they' in question vague, so it could be an ex, family, friend or whatever you prefer.)

Masterlist

Requests are open

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Joon being wide awake at three in the morning was far from out of the ordinary, he'd often said that he did some of his best work at night, having passed more than his fair share of sleepless nights writing.

You however, were usually long dead to the world at this hour, which is why when his phone screen lit up with your name, he was quick to answer.

"Hey y/n."

"Joon?" The shake in your voice instantly put made him sit up straighter, concerned.

"What happened?"

"Can... can I come over?" You asked.

"Of course." He said, without hesitation. "Are you okay? Do you need me to get you?"

"I'm fine." You said, but he knew that wasn't fully true, it was clear you'd been crying. "I just don't want to stay here tonight."

"Come over. Do you want me to set up our usuals?" He asked.

"Sure." You responded.

Over the course of your friendship, you two had developed a near ritual of whenever one of you was upset, you'd go over to the other's place to talk, usually over some sort of drinks.

You couldn't count how many nights you'd spent camped out on each other's sofas, or sometimes beds, ranting about everything from shitty ex's, family or work problems, or even just that one neighbor who never waved back at you. It didn't necessarily fix any of the issues, but it was comforting nonetheless to have someone who would lend a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on.

He could tell whatever happened must have been bad. Normally, when you called, you would already be giving him the rundown of whatever had happened, so your quietness on the other end of the phone was more than a little worrying.

You showed up not long after, your sweats and oversized hoodie making you seem even smaller to him than normally.

Skipping over any greeting, he immediately pulled you into a tight, protective hug.

"What happened?" He asked again, but you just shook your head.

"Not yet." You mumbled, trying to soak in his soothing warmth. It was remarkable how easily the simple gesture from him never failed to give you such a sense of comfort and safety.

Once you finally separated, he quickly got you situated on the couch with your drinks, waiting patiently for you to begin.

"They lied, again." You said, staring at the floor as you spoke. "I thought things were getting better. I thought we were getting past it, but they fucking lied, right to my face."

The grip on his glass tightened as he listened to you explain, his long simmering anger and frustration at your situation rising to a boil.

"Fuck 'em." He said suddenly.

You looked up at him in surprise.

"I mean it," he said seriously. "You've put up with this shit for long enough. If they can't even have the basic decency to be honest with you, after everything that's happened, then fuck 'em. You deserve so much better than that, than them."

Caught off guard by the intensity of his words, you were hit with a sudden wave of emotion, trying desperately to blink back tears but failing.

"Shit, I'm sorry! Please don't cry." He apologized, frantically scrambling over to pull you into another hug.

"Why are you always so nice to me?" You sniffled.

He looked at you for a moment, unsure of how to answer other than the simple truth. "Because it's what you deserve."

You sat together for a while until your tears ceased and he noticed you drooping on his shoulder and suggested going to bed, waiting till he felt your breaths even out next to him before drifting off as well.

You woke in the morning to the loud clang of cookware and quiet curses.

"Joon?" You called groggily, finding him milling about the kitchen, looking slightly frazzled.

"Sorry babe, did I wake you?" He asked.

"Nah, it's fine." You said, ignoring the term of endearment he reserved for the nights you you stayed over. "What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast, or at least trying to." He said, stirring a pan of eggs uncertainly.

"Here, let me." You offered, taking over as he watched.

"So, um, I was thinking..." He said, trailing off uncertainly.

"Hmm?" You hummed.

"What if you just... stayed here?" He asked nervously. "At least for a little bit?"

You looked up in surprise. "Here?"

"Yeah, I mean, if you want to." He said, fiddling with his sleeves awkwardly. "It's nice having you around, and you're here all the time anyway and I...

"I don't want you to go back there." He said quietly. "They're not good for you, so I thought maybe you could just... be here?"

Slowly, you nodded. "I think I'd like that."

He smiled, relieved. "Good."

[gtbutterfly]

New Jen and Gabby story! (No title yet) Chapter one

I'm writing a new story set after my borrower story about Jen and Gabby. This is set roughly a week or two after the finale of the first Jen and Gabby series, Jen has started teaching Gabby how to borrow, and they're temporarily staying at Rebecca and tims house while Jen looks for a new place for them to live. I'm happy to be writing these characters again, and I hope you enjoy it. Criticism is appreciated!

Original story:

__________________________________________________

It was around sunset. The air outside was cool and the sky was clear. Some trees and houses across the street blocked the lowering sun and created shadows that seeped through the window. Inside, there was a turned on lamp sitting on a desk in front of the window still. The bottom of the lamp had a ripped out piece of cardboard taken from a shoebox, not more than two inches wide either way. It was taped to the side of the lamp's base with a piece of folded tape. On the cardboard, there was a marking in the center made with a pencil. She stood across from the lamp at the other end of the desk. Her sister was watching at her side as the young tiny tried to focus on the target. she got into a throwing position, and threw the toothpick with all her force, grunting as she did it. The tooth pick spun in the air and bounced off the cardboard hitting it with its side. It landed on the ground, bouncing a bit before settling. 

“Wow, good job, Gabby, that was great for your first try!” the borrower's older sister said. 

“Oh, it was supposed to hit it with the pointy end and stick on it,” the younger borrower said, disappointed. The older sister approached her and patted her on the back.

“Hey, it's alright, you did great! Your not gonna get it all the time, not even when doing it for real,” the older sister said, “I know I don’t,”

“Jen, why are we learning how to throw the pointy thing anyways?” Gabby asked.

“Well, sometimes, you won’t have a fishing hook to use to climb things, so you’ll have to use your needle,” Jen said, taking her needle out of her belt and showing her sister the non-sharp end. “See the little hole, there?”

“Uh-huh,” Gabby said.

“Humans put string through there to make clothes and blankets and things. We can use them to make a grappling hook and string if we need to. real hooks have holes just like it.” Jen explained.

“Ooh,” Gabby looked at her sister's needle in interest. “When do I get a sewing needle like yours?”

“When you're done training with the toothpick and you won’t hurt yourself,” Jen patted her sister's head.

“Ok! So when are we learning how to fight with these?” Gabby asked,

“Eh, I dunno, you can’t really be taught that, I think,” Jen said, walking away, putting the needle back in her belt. “I figured out how to defend with this thing when I first started borrowing on my own. Mainly against bugs that were around in the vents or kitchen, sometimes mice and rats,” she turned back towards her sister, “it mainly just comes from instincts, we probably shouldn’t worry about that. For now it's more important to focus on traversal, like climbing tall objects and staying out of sight, alright?”

“Uh, ok,” Gabby said, looking down and nodding. “Oh, what if a human takes me again? What should I do?”

“Stab them and run as far as you can. Come on, you know this, Gabby.” Jen said, walking towards her and getting on her knees, placing her hand on Gabbys shoulder. “Besides, once you learn how to climb, move efficiently, hide, and all that stuff, you won’t need to worry about escaping a human, just not getting caught in the first place, alright?”

“Sigh, ok,” Gabby nodded.

“You're not still scared from when you were taken before, are you? You can tell me if you are,” Jen asked,

“N-no…” Gabby stuttered. Jen sighed.

“Gabby, remember, I’m here for you. I’m not going to let you get kidnapped again. Not for as long as I live, ok?” Jen reassured her.

“Ok…” Gabby said, looking at her sister. “...what about after?” Jen looked down for a second,

“Um…well, then you’ll be ready to face the world on your own. Ok?” Jen gave a soft smile. Gabby nodded. The two sisters hugged each other tightly.

“Thank you, Jen,” Gabby said,

“It's fine,” Jen said, rubbing her sister's back before letting go of her and standing up. Suddenly, both of the borrowers flinched. There was a shake in the ground. Gabby let out a small yelp, while Jen’s eyes widened and she reached for her needle, before they both remembered. “Oh yeah…” Jen sighed, looking across the room at the approaching human. She had a blue sweater on and on her shoulder was another borrower, hanging on to some of the human hair and part of the sweater. She got on her knees before the desk the two borrowers were on and smiled.

“Oh…hiii Rebecca,” Gabby said, letting out a smile but backing away slightly at the same time. Jen got in front of her. 

“Hey guys, how are you two little ones doing?” Rebecca said, taking the other borrower off her shoulder. Jen cringed.

“Fine, fine, everythings great.” Jen said bluntly. “How was yours and Tims date? It seemed awfully short.” The other borrower jumps from Rebecca's hand onto the desk.

“It wasn’t a date, we just went out.” Tim said.

“That's what people say when they go on dates,” Jen said.

“What did you do then?” Gabby asked.

“We went to the store, looked at some things, and then we got takeout for dinner and brought it back here.” Tim said.

“We got chinese! Do you two want any?” Rebecca asked.

“No reason not to,” Jen shrugged, stepping towards the edge of the desk. 

“Chee….chinese?” Gabby thought aloud, “is that like, the…uh, noodle with the red sauce?” she asked.

“No, it's the brown noodles with the grease on it with the broccoli and stuff mixed in,” Jen said, attaching her fishing hook to the edge of the desk.

“Oh, that's much less messy!” Gabby smiled, walking up behind Jen as she tossed the string off the edge of the desk so they could climb down.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, guys, you're our guests.” Rebecca said, “I can carry you to the kitchen,”

“Its fine,” Jen said, “Gabby would rather walk, and I’d rather stay with her,” 

“Yeah,” Gabby said, grabbing onto the string, hugging it with her arms and legs and slowly sliding down as Jen watched and smiled.

“Huh, she's already going down ropes by herself,” Tim said. 

“Yeah, she's learning pretty well,” Jen said, grabbing a hold of the string herself and sliding to the floor. Tim climbed into Rebecca's hand, and she picked her up and walked behind the two borrowers that were on the floor, who were making surprisingly good pace, even given how the borrowers had to practically jog to keep up with the human towing over them at normal walking speed. Rebecca looked down at Jen and Gabby as they moved alongside her. Jen glanced up at Rebecca, causing the human to look forward and away from them. She looked down at Tim in her hands. 

“Think they’re ok?” Rebecca asked quietly to Tim, just about whispering. 

“It's fine,” Tim said back, “I’m sure it's nothing against you,” he reassured her. Rebecca looked past Tim at Jen and Gabby on the ground, worried about them not liking her. After some walking, they were at the kitchen table. Jen took out the fishing hook again and prepared to throw it up to the top of the table, before Rebecca bent down and stopped her.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can give you a lift if you’d like,” Rebecca offered, 

“Oh, that's fine, we wouldn’t want to bother you,” Jen said, unwrapping the string and getting ready to swing the hook. 

“Oh, it's barely a bother, you two barely weigh anything to me,” Rebecca smiled, “come on, I insist,” the human said, holding her hand out for them. Jen sighed, putting the hook back into the bag slinged over her shoulder. 

“Come on Gabby,” Jen said, taking her nervous sister's hand as they both got into Rebecca's palm. Gabby struggled to stand up a bit, while Jen kept her sister from falling over. Rebecca raised the borrowers up to the table and let them get off. She also places down Tim from her other hand, before pulling a chair from the side of the table, and sitting down. She took some paper plates from a stack that was already on the table and scooped the chinese food onto one from a styrofoam container. 

“I’m guessing you two don’t get warm meals like this too often,” Rebecca said. Jen stood over the paper plate and looked at the pile of noodles, vegetables, and meat on it. She could feel some of the heat from the food on her face.

“Yeah, not really,” Jen said, picking up one of the ends of the noodles and looking at it. “Usually only when the last humans we were borrowing from left it out, and even then it would be cold, and hard to bring back,” she cut a small piece out of the noodle and tasted it, before cutting a much bigger piece and giving it to Gabby, who started eating it immediately. 

“Y’know, some borrowers at the trading market use candles and matches to try cooking stuff,” Tim said, trying to add to the conversation.

“Please, the only thing anyones ever successfully made with the ‘candle stove method’ is tea,” Jen said, “most people are too worried about started a bigger fire, or making smoke that humans would see and follow,” 

“Well, since you’re with me, you’ll be able to have as many warm cooked meals as you want!” Rebecca exclaimed, “I am great cook, after all, maybe I could even find a way to make small meals that are your size,”

“Uh, thanks, but I think we’ll be fine,” Jen said, looking down, taking a bite out of the other half of the noodle. “Tomorrow I’m going with Nora and Liam to find a new house for me and Gabby to borrow from. Hopefully we’ll be out of your hair soon after that,” 

“Oh…” Rebecca looked sideways for a moment, “well, you can always stay here as long as you’d like, ok? In Fact, you can stay here if you want,”

“Uh, no thanks, we…um, wouldn’t want to disturb you or Tim,” Jen said awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Gabby said, “we don’t want to be here when you do whatever gross stuff Jen was talking about to each other,” 

“Gabby!” Jen tugged on Gabbys arm slightly to get her to stop talking. Tim and Rebecca snickered a little.

“Oh, we don’t do anything that…physical, really, it's mainly just cuddling, y’know,” Tim said,

“Yeah, it's really warm and comfortable when we do it, nothing… weird…about it,” 

“...riiight,” Jen said, seeming a bit uncomfortable, Gabby looked at her.

“What would be weird about cuddling?” Gabby asked, confused.

“Well anyways,” Jen said, quickly changing the subject. “Rebecca, Saras coming here for…’tutoring’ tomorrow, right?” 

“Oh, yeah! It’ll be great to talk to another human that knows about you cute little guys,” Rebecca said, Jen groaned slightly. 

“Ooh, Saras coming tomorrow?” Gabby asked, “I can’t wait to see her again, she was really nice when she found me back at her house. I never thought I’d be friends with a human,” 

“Me neither,” Jen said, 

“Well, I’m also a human friend of yours, right?” Rebecca asked. Jen looked down sheepishly,

“Well, uh, you see, your…” Jen looked over at Gabby for a moment,

“You're an adult! It be weird for me to be friends with an adult,” Gabby said, “I’m not friends with liam, Nora, or Tim,” 

“Well, I mean, of course your not,” Tim rubbed his arm, “I mean, we’re not friends like, that, but we’re still…uh, acquainted with you,”

“Your like her godparents,” Jen said, 

“Yeah, yeah…something like that,” Tim said. 

“Or god siblings, since I’m raising her, and our parents are dead,” Jen said,

“Yeah, yeah…” Tim said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Hmm, maybe I could be your god-parent. How does that sound, tiny?” rebecca asked Gabby, lean towards her, “I could take care you if anything happen to you sister,”

“Oh, no, sorry,” Jen said, pulling Gabby back a bit, “I already told Liam and Nora they could adopt her if i…y’know, so,”

“You did?” Gabby asked,

“Yeah…when you weren’t around,” Jen answered,

“But-” 

“Anyways,” Jen cut Gabby off, “we should probably be getting to bed now, I’m getting up earlier tomorrow to scout out new houses, and Gabby probably shouldn’t stay up too late,”

“Aw, are you sure you two haven't had enough to eat yet, little ones?” Rebecca said. Jen rolled her eyes, Gabby just seemed confused.

“This is the amount we usually get to eat,” Gabby said,

“But are you sure it's enough?” Rebecca asked,

“Goodnight, Rebecca,” Jen said, holding Gabbys hand as they both walked to the edge of the table. 

“Oh, would you like me to help you get down?” Rebecca asked, “if you’d like, your welcome to sleep in the dollhouse tonight, I can get another bed for Gabby to sleep in,”

“No thanks, we’ll sleep in our usual spot tonight,” Jen said, taking her fishing hook out and attaching it to the edge of the table. 

“Oh…okay then…goodnight, tinies,” Rebecca said as she watched Jen and Gabby slide down the string. She sighed as they left the room by themselves. “They don’t like me, do they?” she asked Tim,

“What? No, Jen and Gabby…tolerate you enough,” Tim said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re both perfectly fine with you,”

“Really?” Rebecca asked, “half the time they don’t let me help them get around the house, and they won’t even let me know where they’ve been sleeping.” she let out a groan, “and after I’ve been so nice to them, offering them food and shelter and warmth,” 

“A Lot of tinies like to be independent, especially from humans,” Tim said, touching Rebecca's large human hand. “Jens is no different, she’d rather provide for her and her sister. That's why she’s been looking for a new place to stay,” Tim explained. Rebecca sighed.

“I just wish they realized how much better their lives would be with my help. I just want to help them, y’know?” Rebecca said. “If only they trusted me as much as you do,” 

“Hey, even I didn’t trust you at first,” Tim said, “Remember when we first met?”

“Heh, I remember it everyday,” Rebecca said, leaning on the table, laughing a bit while reminiscing. “You were all alone, cornered at the bottom of my sink, just begging me not to hurt you, heh,” she sighed, “you were so cute, scared like that,”

“Uh, I guess i was, huh,” Tim said, scratching his head a bit,

“It was so nice comforting you, petting you and hugging you to calm you down,” Rebecca said, “Jens not like that. Shes not scared at all, she always seem angry, or stern or whatever,”

“You know, you’ve made a lot of progress with Jen,” Tim said, “she’ll warm up to you eventually, I’m sure of it,” 

“What about Gabby? She seems nervous around me, doesn’t she?” Rebecca asked,

“I dunno, Gabby hardly even knows you,” Tim said, “she’s known the rest of us for ages,”

“But isn’t she friends with that Sara girl?” Rebecca asked, 

“I guess they got time to bond one on one,” Tim said, “like we did,”

“Hmm, tomorrow I have the entire day with Gabby…maybe I can get her to like me then!” Rebecca exclaimed, “and once Gabby trusts me, Jen will have to trust me too,”

“Huh, that seems like it could work,” Tim thought out loud, “how would you get her to like you? Even without Jen around, Gabby is going to be pretty cautious, given how Jen teaches her to be,”

“Saras coming tomorrow, right? I’ll just ask her how she became such good friends with Gabby.” Rebecca said, scooping up Tim and holding him in front of her face. Tim let out a yelp that Rebecca didn’t notice, startled by suddenly being picked up. “Soon enough, Gabby and Jen will be as close to me as you are!”

“Heh, yeah,” Tim said while being held by Rebecca, before looking down and thinking about what she said for a moment. “...wait….” Before Tim could finish his thought, Rebecca got down to her knees, causing Tim to feel a bump, before abruptly being plopped onto the ground.

“You talk to Jen and Gabbygabby to make sure they’re fine with me and everything. I’m gonna go get some things that we can do with Gabby tomorrow, I’m pretty sure we have some old board games somewhere around here," Rebecca said before walking away.

“Uh, alright,” Tim said, knowing Rebecca probably didn’t hear him. He rubbed the back of his neck, and started walking towards where Jen and Gabby went.

Jen and Gabby had been sleeping behind a TV stand in Rebeccas living room. It was no more cramped than the average borrower living arrangement, and was full of wires that attached to the wall. It was slightly dusty, and there were old dvd and game cases, some of which the tinies slept under to avoid being seen, folded to stand up like tents. They both had borrowed clean rags and cut up blankets from around the house to sleep on. It was dark there, and the borrowers could turn on a small pen light that was down there if they needed light for any reason. Jen was slightly worried of the wires sparking and causing a fire, but she hadn’t told anyone, especially not Gabby so she wouldn’t be worried too. Between the TV stand and the wall was the only place that Rebecca wouldn’t find them accidentally. Jen had made an agreement with the human that she and Gabby could have their own place to sleep at night without Rebecca knowing exactly where they were, just that they were in the house, and as part of the deal, Jen and Gabby had to be out in the open during the day. Jens side of the agreement was mainly out of issues of trust, and she assumed Rebecca’s was the same, when actually, the human just wanted to be able to see them during the day time. Tim knew where they were, though. Behind a TV stand was a common place for borrowers to hide from humans. He knew about Jens and Rebeccas agreement, though, so he hadn’t told Rebecca where they were. As he walked behind the black stand, he saw Jen tucking Gabby into her makeshift bed under a open movie case for extra darkness and so she wouldn’t be seen. 

“Jen, how long will you be gone tomorrow?” Gabby asked her sister, who was onher knees over her as she sat up on the carpeted floor.

“Around the whole day.” Jen said, “I should be back by the time your getting already asleep. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back before you know it,” Jen said, patting her sisters back. 

“Really? You’ll be careful, right?” Gabby asked, Jen smiled.

“I’ll be fine, I promise I’ll be back before you fall asleep tomorrow, ok?” Jen answered,

“Ok.” Gabby said.

“Make sure you be careful tomorrow, ok?” Jen told her sister, “if you feel in danger, or uncomfortable, or anything like that, run away, ok? Defend yourself if you have to. Get to our safe spot, alright?”

“Alright,” Gabby said, “um, is our safe spot here, or in the vents?” she asked,

“Here at first, and if you can’t be here for any reason, go to the vents, alright?” Jen said,

“Alright,” Gabby said, with a light smile, “goodnight Jen,”

“Goodnight, Gabs,” Jen said, standing up as Gabby laided down and closed her eyes. Jen walk away, stopping when she saw Tim standing across from her. “How long have you been there?” she asked quietly,

“I just got here,” Tim said. Jen sighed, walking towards him.

“So, what's up?” Jen asked, “did Rebecca tell you to ask us if we like her again?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, “she's hoping to make friends with Gabby tomorrow,” 

“Make friends? How?” Jen asked,

“She's thinking of playing board games, and talking to Sara about how to get her to like her,” Tim answered,

“Good, good.doesn’t sound to bad,” Jen said, “maybe Sara will get her to stop being so babyish to us,” 

“Y’know, I’ve haven’t really met Sara, yet,” Tim said, “what’s she like? Why are you two so close to her compared to Rebecca?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m too close to her, we only spoke once,” Jen said. “I dunno. She just seems a lot more understanding than Rebecca is. She never talked down to either of us, never called either of us ‘cute’,” Jen said looking down, “never insisting we stay with her over and over again,”

“Well, I guess Rebecca has a bit of an infantilization issue with you guys,” Tim said, “I’ll try talking to her about it,” 

“Thats what you said last time,” Jen said, rolling her eyes,

“Well, I’ll make sure to really tell her this time.” Tim said. Jen sighed.

“Thanks, Tim.” She said, walking away from him towards where she was sleeping. “See you in the morning,”

“Alright, good night, Jen,” Tim said, leaving Jen and Gabbys spot.

[silentmajesticfox]

Bellyache

Chapter I: coming home

A/N: its been so long since ive wrote something, and in my drunk brain i felt i could start a series. if its ass, please let me know. i will always take the criticism and also- i just needed to push myself and think maybe its worth it., Gojo is always worth it. i hope whoever reads this enjoys, and t6hank you. <3

Y/N was finally back in Tokyo, coming all the way from Europe, as she had went on a vacation in a sense, it was mainly to learn more techniques around the world and to clear her mind, finally doing some things she dreamed of, she never thought this day would come where she would allow herself to be back here. A lot of people were crowded, conversations buzzing, and car horns going off in the sunset as she crossed the street to go to the bar and food place she had liked going with Shoko for years. She was quite nervous to see her best-friend, though they had kept in close contact.

 It has been about a year since Suguru Geto died, and a little less than a year since she saw that white haired, he-who-shall-not-be-named, asshole. It was like loosing a best friend, and a lover all in one consecutive week.. y/n and Satoru had had an on and off relationship for the past 11 years, from puppy love all the way to a more serious relationship at certain points, even marriage and children had been considered. But what honestly made her leave, was there last interaction and most recent break-up..

*flashback, one year ago*

                Satoru and y/n were sitting on the stairs outside of the school, they had been sitting in silence for about ten minutes, staring off into the trees and the sky, and avoiding looking at eachother. She clears her throat, knowing it is out of character for Satoru not to say anything for even five minutes, his whole demeanor had changed and he was deep in thought, she felt like she wasn’t even there.

His blue eyes dart over to her, he didn’t need the six eyes to see she was struggling and having internal conflict with herself. However, with everything that had transpired, he really didn’t care anymore, having lost the only best friend he ever had, it was like a chunk of his life essence was stripped from him all over again. “Hm…?” Was all he could muster up, still staring at her. Y/n kind of looked shocked as her eyes met his beautiful blue ones, she mustered up a fake smile that lightly graced her lips, before pondering what to say to him.

“You know... you can talk to me, right?... I know he was your best friend, but it’s been years, Toru’… He chose that path…” Y/n treated lightly, not even doing small talk and just getting what was in her mind off. He scoffed in response, his white brows crinkling as he shook his head, looking away as he felt anger bottling up and threatening to explode any second. “Stop acting like you know everything, y/n. It doesn’t concern you, especially because you weren’t close to him like I was... So, stop prying and acting like you care, because I know you fucking don’t.” The venomous words leaving his mouth, he knew it wasn’t her fault, but he was just so angry. At Suguru, at himself.

Y/n was taken aback, she stared at him, something about the way she was watching him slowly loose himself all over again would make her tear up on spot. She had to stand her ground at least, knowing how stubborn he could be. “I’m not saying that, Satoru… I’m just saying I don’t want a repeat of what happened years ago.. and that you have me to talk to or vent to, its okay to be upset.. You don’t have to take it out on me-“ With that his eyes roll, pushing up his glasses and almost instantly coming back at her. “Repeat what happened years ago? Like it was a chore for you? Are you serious? Like it was you going through that? How about you just leave me alone, you’re honestly just making it worse and I’m done entertaining this conversation..” His words were dark.

“If that’s how you fucking feel, Gojo. I’m not going to sit here and be a verbal punching bag you you while I’m trying to fucking help-. You know I didn’t mean it like that, so get your head out of your ass.” She spit back, adjusting herself and standing up and crossing her arms, a stern look with watery eyes threatened to spill. Much to his dismay, he kept going, saying the words that would end them forever. “You honestly have ruined my life in every way possible, I wish it was you instead of Suguru that left back then, I wish it was you who I had to kill and not him… So do me a favor and fucking leave for good.” And that was final. Tears started streaming as she reached out to smack him, much to her dismay due to his limitless being active almost 24/7. His ocean orbs stared up at her, almost in shock, as she spoke one last time to him. “Fine, wish you would have told me sooner, so I didn’t waste years on you… Have fun with your dead best friend, Gojo. Never speak to me again.” And with that, her heels turned as she stormed off to her dorm. He sat there in silence, even the birds stopped chirping. He then realized that was the worst decision of his life.

*end flashback*

Y/n opened the door to the bar, and the bell jingled. Her weary eyes searched around, until they finally met Brown ones she was desperately searching for. Excitement and Nervousness spread through her, emitting something like a squeal as she practically ran to her best friend, who was standing up from her seat, before crashing into her and almost making both of them fall. “Y/n calm down… We’re too old for this shit..” Shoko said as y/n hugged her so tight, she could barely choke out those words. After almost a full minute, y/n let go giggling to herself and sitting down. “I really can’t help myself, I mean look at you, you’re hair is so long, Shoko!!” Shoko smiled before flipping her hair, a waiter on his way looking at y/n before greeting her. “Long time so see, Y/n!!! Glad to have you back, do you want the usual for both of you?” He asked and she nodded excitingly. “Can you actually make that a double shot for me?” He nods before walking off and Shoko eying y/n.

“A double? y/n its barely 6?” She judged, before they both started laughing. “Never leave me for that long again or I swear I will kill you myself.” Shoko stated, lighting a cigarette and handing one to y/n and lighting both of theres with her lighter.