#my point being that basically it will be everything she hates 💜

[sasshomaru]

my racist grandmother, who tells me that “the eye-rain-ians” are dirty and nasty and cheap snd never passes up the chance to talk about how much she hates Iranians—even tho i am literally half Iranian—gave me some amazon giftcards for my bday, and im using them to buy persian history books in order to write a historical fiction story based in the ancient persian empire with all iranian characters 💜💜💜💜💜

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

[bellzsad]

No wait, elaborate on the dob being problematic post please. I feel so uneducated lol 💜

okay so first of all let me preface by saying: i LOVE dylan obrien. like, you see all these interviews where he's acting like the dream romcom love interest, and his connection with his castmates, and his personality. like it think that's a quality of his that we should praise. i also want to say that i am SO scared to post this ?? toxic girl fans are scary asf. but i've been wanting to make a post like this for a while, because like, yes, he is one of my fav actors but you can't say that you love him and not acknowledge some of the questionable things that have happened. ALSO let me say; i'm not saying that he should get cancelled. i'm not saying that he should face consequences, i just want to bring light to all of this because i think it's wrong to just overlook these things and act like nothing happened ?

okay so first: the twitter post. basically what happened was that when the overturn of roe v. wade and everything was going on, dylan tweeted "fuck your bible". this upset a lot of people, rightfully so !! he said it in the context that abortion should NOT be banned, as people were using the bible as an excuse FOR it to be banned. i respect that, HOWEVER - you can't just say that, i feel ? i don't know, i'm not religious so please don't take my word on this, i don't speak for the people, but just in general, like... that's someone's beliefs and religion. i think there was a better way to go about sharing his opinion. like, don't put down other people's beliefs because of your own? the message just comes across wrong and i know the intent was not malicious, but it's seriously something that makes me raise my eyebrow.

then we have rachael lange, who is dylan's current girlfriend. they started dating early 2023, i believe. for some background info, i guess, she's a model based in nyc.

so this is the main point of this post, because this is what honestly makes me the most upset, i guess ? so when people found out that they were together, obviously as people do, they did some digging. TURNS OUT rachael had some twitter posts, actually not some, but MANY racist tweets from her past. she said the n word, she joked about having pictures of children on her phone or smth (also hate tweets calling taylor swift a whore, which i'll get to later !!) - idk, you can look it up, i'm not going to get into the specifics on here. point is that it was terrible. she was at least 15 at the time here. the tweets span from like 2013 to 2015, but the taylor ones were in 2017. which like… you know not to say those things when you’re 15 ?? not to mention when you’re 16 and 17 and 18 or whatever. so age is NOT an excuse here.

HERE'S MY TAKE: and before you guys go "omg, bel, are you excusing racism? are you saying it's okay?" i am NOT saying that. do not put words in my mouth! whenever i look at controversies and things, i try to look at it from all angles. i try to understand every side. i try to step in everyone's shoes. so here's my thing:

dylan probably didn't know about the tweets before getting with rachael. do i think that after the tweets came out something should've happened? yes. however, if you spend time falling in love with someone, just to find out that they did something in their past - it's hard to just stop your feelings like that, understandably. i'm sure rachael now is, hopefully, not like that. i hope she's better. also, if you always focus on the past, you can't move on, so i can understand why dylan is still together with her, BUT:

he didn't even acknowledge the tweets? he's always been very open about his opinions and beliefs, and how people shouldn't be treated like that and yada yada so it's a bit hypocritical of him to just... not say anything. not address it. and CONTINUE to date her. the image he puts out is so positive, yet this is making it pretty negative, so...?

but anyway, we can't do anything about it. i just think that the whole situation is problematic asf, like yeah it's not dylan's fault for his girlfriend being an ass in the past, but this with everything else just feels a bit weird ngl.

OKAY i'm moving on now, the rachael thing is just sm, if you want me to elaborate please lmk because yeah

so the last thing is a SOMEWHAT a rumor. i want to make that clear. it's a rumor, HOWEVER there's a lot stacked up against it, so make of that what you will.

taylor swift hired dylan obrien to star in the all too well film alongside sadie sink a few years back. that was fine, dylan and taylor were then connected and that became a fun friendship that people were fans of! they were clearly on good terms. THEN he starts dating rachael, and it's like... what? because this man has not been to a single eras tour concert. but whatever, right? it is what it is.

but there's also gracie abrams, who is basically like taylor's little sister now. they have a song together, which is rumored to be about dylan obrien, because dylan and gracie were spotted together (prior to rachael and dylan becoming a thing) once. ONCE. dylan has been spotted with a bunch of girls before, such as sabrina carpenter, chloe grace moretz, etc., which obv sparked dating rumors but like whatever ?? however this just gets complicated because gracie is related to taylor, and if gracie's new song "cool" is about dylan (rumored), then things are a bit messy.

AGAIN, just a rumor. so this honestly to me isn't that problematic, but something definitely happened between taylor and dylan (most likely rachael + her tweets) to split them up, so it's not THAT innocent. but at the end of the day i don't really care about this taylor gracie stuff compared to the other two because it's a rumor and honestly just seems like a relationship that didn't work out. still worth mentioning tho.

THAT'S IT holy shit so scared to post this. again if u want me to elaborate LMK because i swear i'm not an asshole! i am just trying to view things from all angles and all perspectives and want to give ppl the benefit of the doubt (unfortunately i always see the good in people)

[nanabug999]

ur oc looks so cool???? would love to know more about them! like backstory etc, name, pronouns! anything really! I’m not familiar with dnd but looked up tiefling species and it’s interesting!

So you want to know about my OC? 👹👹👹

Her name is Astra

She/her/they/them

She is a witch in a world where witches and regular humans are at war, although according to my lore there is currently a +10 years of peace between them

She is young ~45 years old, but due to the anatomy of witches, she’s forever 20+ physically , mentally and emotionally ( and you need to be at least 100 years old to be considered fully adult)

But due to her abilities she earned the highest rank- magister and has the right to take part in magister coven which is basically magical government

Astra is royalty but humans took over their lands long time ago so right now she���s holding basically only a title

Royal Family is either hated due to the events that led up to the extermination of witches, or they are expected to take over the lands and serve to the magical world

Diving deeper into the lore of this character:

There are technically two Astras, but from different times ( reverse timing is included)

Before main story there was a great tragedy- the death of a God (there are 9 in this story). Because this world ( planet) was created by Gods the moment one of them was destroyed, the end of the world was slowly have been happening.

And in order to stop it - a vessel was needed. Astra was specifically created to be it, but she’s a temporary solution due to the flaws of her body.

Her main goal was to collect all the remaining pieces of the godly essence and give up her body. She was forced to die and relive her life again and again remembering everything.

By the time this task was done we ended up with the second version of this character.

This time it’s supposed to be impossible to understand is it a regular person who has memories of her lives + memories of the god, or is it God with all memories… or , it is at this point completely different person…..or it is both of them just combined together ?!

So if we are talking about their personalities -they’re very similar. I imagine that they in some ways resemble Howl from howl's moving castle, but Astra_ver.2 is more emotionally unstable ( I mean if we combine emotional suppression of a human being and god and his absence of emotions, it’s what we will get)

Both versions have a curse on them (the black stuff) that prevents them from using magical energy within their bodies, but they can see raw magic - the essential thing in this world almost like air (which is extremely rare ability ) so they use this and other methods

Anyway….sorry for dumping lore that was cooking in my head for 5+ years 😅 I tried to make it somewhat simple and quick

Thanks for asking 💜💜💜

[ripplover]

Ripp Grunt headcanons reloaded

Yes, they are back 🙏

I have the full lore for my Ripp on sims wiki but I wanted to make this post too. I have so many headcanons for Ripp and as a significant character for me, he gets his own post lol

Birthday

Ripp Grunt was born on the 13th of December 1988. At the start of the game, he is around 16-17. In my Road to fucking Nowhere fic, it’s 2007 and he is 18. He’s in his early 20s in the PSP timeline. Ripp is a year and several months younger than Tank and 4 years older than Buck. Johnny and Ophelia are two years older than him.

Height

Ripp is kind of short. About 5,5 ft. Tank and Johnny are taller than him and he hates it.

Identity

Ripp is bisexual and attracted to all genders. He doesn’t really care about what gender someone is. Ripp is open to seeing multiple people at once so is polyamorous. That’s also one way I interpret the romance aspiration.

I also headcanon Ripp as transgender. Specifically transmasc and non binary. Ripp knew he was trans from a young age, and like a lot of transmasc people, went down the “tomboy” to trans pipeline. He didn’t really know what that was until he was 14, then he started presenting the way he wanted to. Also Ripp chose that name himself 💜

Johnny and Ophelia were very supportive of him being trans. He had them at school when the bullies had something new to pick on. His mum Lyla, who he was very close to, was also supportive of course. Buck was young and didn’t understand fully at first but I’d also fully supportive. (Also my Buck headcanon is she’s transfem and comes out later in life lol). Lyla helped Ripp to start HRT.

General Buzz is weird about Ripp being trans though. He’s not transphobic, in fact he accepted Ripp as a man almost immediately (though he still messes up pronouns). The idea of toxic masculinity and being a man in the “right” way is very prevalent in the Grunt family though, and that definitely affected Ripp and the way General Buzz sees him. Basically General Buzz is a trans ally but that doesn’t change the fact he sees Ripp as a disappointment. The same with being bi. General Buzz doesn’t care who Ripp dates, as long as they aren’t green or have a hint of alien DNA.

Tank got used to Ripp being trans but nothing changed his strained relationship with him. Ripp was still a younger sibling he could take his anger out on to hide his own insecurities (Tank is definitely also queer.)

Ripp took Lyla disappearing very hard, especially since she was the one helping with his transition, and Ripp did not like being in that house with General Buzz and Tank. He got top surgery by himself, which made his dad pretty mad at him.

Ethnicity

Ripp and his family are American (or Simerican) but I have headcanons for his heritage. Ripp is a quarter Vietnamese from Lyla’s side. I know the game presents him as just being white but I do not care lol, I will project my South East Asian heritage onto the Grunt family. Lyla is biracial and Dutch-Vietnamese. On General Buzz’s side, he has Scottish heritage. The idea that Grunt is a mispronunciation of Grant is funny to me.

Personality

He’s a very sweet person overall. He’s friendly with almost everyone and hates conflict, but if he is confronted by someone he loves taking the piss out of them. He’s very positive most of the time despite his terrible life, although he has moments of being really depressed. Very talkative and a yapper. Tries to joke about everything and lighten the mood, even if he goes too far sometimes and upsets someone (then he immediately feels sad about it). Definitely swears a lot which his dad hates, but he loves annoying his dad. It’s very hard to push Ripp to a point where he’s scared, hurt and traumatised, but in the PSP timeline, that’s happened 💔

Relationships

Ripp and General Buzz do not get along. In my gameplay though, they often make up at some point so there’s a happy ending. General Buzz does secretly love Ripp deep down I think (he was devastated when Ripp ran away.)

Ripp and Tank used to be really close when they were young. The more General Buzz shaped Tank into a version of himself though, they fell apart, and Tank was soon taking his anger out on his younger brother. Like with General Buzz, I like to make Ripp and Tank make up. The PSP timeline can be too much for me sometimes lol.

Ripp was very close with Lyla, probably the most out of all three of Lyla’s sons, so he was devastated when she left, and even more so when he found out she died. Ripp gets very depressed thinking about her.

Ripp and Buck are very close due to them both having a strained relationship with General Buzz. Also they end up both being trans which they end up joking about later.

Ripp has been friends with Johnny and Ophelia since middle school. He looks up to them as I headcanon him two years younger than them. He hangs out with them a lot and prefers being with them to being at home. He loves being an idiot with Johnny but is sweet with Ophelia. He is also crushing on them both, at the same time being a third wheel to them dating lol.

Ripp met Lilith after both running away from home, and he became close with her for that reason. They love poking fun at each other.

Music Career

This section could be a lot longer but I’ve already written his whole music career on sims wiki. So this is just the basic stuff lol.

Ripp becomes a rock star. He started playing guitar with Johnny in middle school and Ophelia played keys. Ripp gets his own guitar for his 15th birthday from Lyla. Ripp and Johnny have their own little band called “Fish Tank” and they uploaded songs to Simspace, and performed at small venues (something General Buzz did not approve of.)

At one point, Ripp runs away from home and gets himself a small trailer with the money he saved working at the gas station. Away from his father, he has a lot more freedom. He still works at the gas station whilst going to a lot of music labels and he eventually gets signed to one. He has his first major song released through them.

Ripp is the lead singer and guitarist in his rock band, named Vandermorgan in honour of his mum. The other members are Johnny, Ophelia Lilith, and Mercutio, a friend from Veronaville Ripp aquires. Johnny is the rhythm guitarist, Ophelia is on keys and sometimes the violin, Lilith is the bassist and Mercutio is the drummer.

Ripp’s music style is very diverse, ranging from grunge, to goth, to pop rock.

Ripp hasn’t seen his dad in a long time but now General Buzz can’t escape him, cause Ripp is everywhere.

Other Headcanons

Ripp was an unplanned child. Lyla was happy to have him but General Buzz, not so much.

General Buzz sees a lot of similarities with Ripp and Lyla and he probably dislikes him cause he hates being reminded of her.

Ripp has been to a lot of schools, due to being in a military family. I think different cultures would interest him and he would pick up some words of different languages.

Ripp had behavioural issues at school and General Buzz insisted there was something wrong with him made him see a psychologist. Ripp has ADHD and autism, and is still a disappointment to General Buzz.

Ripp gets really fixated on music (both certain artists and creating it) or certain tv shows. He loves Nirvana and the sitcom with Lilith and Angela. Also some things that could be uncomfortable. As a child, he liked drawing disturbing things and when he’s older, he literally fixates on woohoo. Philosophy also interests him, especially death and the purpose of life, which is something he likes writing music about.

Ripp shows affection through touch.

Ripp is kind of feminine. Ripp doesn’t identify entirely as a man, being non binary as well. He loves jewellery and painting his nails.

Ripp has a brown piercing and a septum.

He gets a sleeve tattoo.

Has rarely ever cut his hair in his life. He lets it grow really long and he doesn’t care. He would hate for all of his hair to just be chopped off.

Smokes, both cigarettes and weed. He loves getting stoned with Ophelia and Johnny.

Is very artistic, and takes art in college. (His one true hobby is arts and crafts.) He loves drawing animals and characters as well as disturbing concept art.

He loves cooking and trying to cook new things (he has 10 interest points in food.)

Ripp is left handed, and plays a left handed guitar (which is impossible in sims 2 lol but just imagine.)

He has a tooth gap.

Ripp is a cat person in a family of dog lovers (he loves maine coons)

Although he doesn’t like to admit it, Ripp does have deep insecurities and is very depressive and mentally fucked up from his bad relationship with General Buzz and Tank, and also Lyla’s death. It’s even worse in the PSP timeline, and he’s engaged in S/H and abused drugs. He often thinks about suicide. Ripp can be clingy and he fears abandonment. His harsh upbringing led him to develop an eating disorder too.

Ripp is a romance sim because he wants the love he doesn’t have at home. He feels undeserving of a real relationship but at the same time he wants that so much. He gets tired of having too much love to give, and getting none of it back. Ripp’s need for love has led him into some bad situations and given him further trauma from that.

I don’t think Ripp is a cheater, or someone to just abandon his partner, or just want woohoo out of them, he has too much nice points for that. If there was a soulmate version of the romance aspiration he would probably have that (although he’s still open for polyamory). Ripp also fits characteristics of the pleasure aspiration a lot more than the romance aspiration.

Ripp wouldn’t be a deadbeat father either. In fact he would love his kids. He doesn’t want to be like his dad after all. He really cares for his partner(s), and his kids. Ripp would be a really fun parent, maybe a little permissive. Something I also think is very similar to what Lyla was. Ripp also gives me the vibes of being a secondary family sim. He wants to have the loving family he couldn’t have as a child.

Ripp was bullied in his school years. Specifically by two Strangetown townies, Kendal Lawson (my headcanon Strangetown high mean girl) and Tina Roanigke (Kendal’s best friend). They played a part in Ripp’s canon fear of toilets from too many swirlies on the PSP (Tank also played a part in that but I don’t think it was just him). Ripp was picked on by both boys and girls. Girls thought he was weird and boys would try and hurt him for wanting to fit in with them. Later in life though he puts this experience into music (Kendal gets a very special shout out.)

My oc x canon ship

Saving the best until last. I have an oc x canon ship with Ripp, the oc also being my self insert. I am completely insanely in love with Ripp and I also consider myself a selfshipper (my main blog is even a selfship blog just for him.) So here is Ripp and Lana 🙏

Ripp meets Lana at the gas station and he becomes completely in love. He’s really sweet and kind and patient around her. Ripp talks a lot and Lana barely talks at all due to their extreme shyness, but he doesn’t mind. He cares about them a lot, and Lana cares about him too, they comfort each other. He is the most calm and gentle to them, and loves listening to them on the rare occasions they ramble about their interests. Otherwise he’s just extremely happy to be around her. If the three bolts mean something, then they are soulmates 🙏

Lana also meets the extremely broken version of Ripp on the psp. He’s able to forget all his sadness when Lana gives him the love he needs and heals both his physical and psychological wounds. He’s also ready to kill Doctor Dominic Newlow lol (Lana has her own trauma too.) Lana makes Ripp’s life in the barracks a lot easier.

So anyways those are my Ripp headcanons (at least the ones I’ll put on Tumblr). Idk how to end this so I’ll just put a bunch gifs to show my love for him 🙏

[always-is-always]

Ships - Solos - Antis - ARMYs 💜

When I took my first step as a Baby ARMY (literally newborn level) in 2019, I had ZERO base understanding of anything in the world of K-Pop. Not one iota of any previous experience, and no baseline to begin from.

So, when I took that second step, third step, and then the tumble down the Bangtan rabbit hole, I had a LOT of learning to do. That's putting it mildly.

I knew nothing about the music, the culture around the music, the people in that world of music, the history behind it, the culture of Korea, the language (of course!!), and everything else connected to it. I was starting like that newborn baby who couldn't communicate logically, and who didn't understand anything about what she was seeing and hearing.... All I knew what that I wanted to learn more.

When I first saw the words "ship" and "shipper", I had no idea what it meant. I had to Google it. lol... Here in the US, it isn't really a part of the music culture. At least for my generation...

I didn't understand what "jikook", "taekook", "vminkook", "yoonmin", etc... were. When I finally figured it out, I still didn't understand. I didn't understand why people combine names?? 😂

When I started seeing references to "solos", "antis", "ot7", and such, it was confusing, as with those labels came a lot of emotional content. People loving. People hating. People projecting negativity onto other people who believed differently and felt differently. Literal fighting within the fandom.... what the heck, I thought?? What is this fandom? What is ARMY? Why do people hate on one another (total strangers most of the time), so publicly??

Four years into this, I still don't understand why people who claim to be ARMY have to brinig such negativity into the energy of the fandom. It just doesn't help anyone. It's certainly NOT what Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, or Jungkook would want. It's the opposite of what they would want.

Every single time I read an ARMY's words that they hate another ARMY/fan/human, it makes me cringe. I'm shocked at how easily people voice hatred and send it out into the world, just like exhaling a breath.

I shy away from embracing any label, in regards to my own identity in this life. Maybe it's because I've navigated on the planet for a long time (many lifetimes), and I see how labels create separation, war, judgement, and just more negative energy. Within the fandom it's the basic finger pointing and negativity, that turns me away.

As Human Beings, we are responsibile for every single word, every action, every thought, and all energy that we contribute to the Collective on this planet. Not one Soul is immune to this.

With everything that is happening out on the world stage, what and how we feel matters.

If we want to see changes occur within the fandom then the first step is taking responsibility, and making conscious choices. Begin with the removal of the word "hate", from one's vocabulary. The fandom is a reflection of bigger things that are happening on the world stage. Everything is connected, in the Collective Field.

Hopefully this will be the last time I post about this. It's not my preferred topic by any means. It is something that I'm cognizant of in my daily life, as I navigate this Earthly Path. It is important for us to be aware and to be conscious, as it is our contribution to life and this planet, every moment of every day. 💜🌏💜

[eruditic-akechi]

hi eruditic!!! it’s me. again. haunting your ask box. sorry.

very very sorry. but I’m too lazy (and tired) to write separate asks for these so. for the hexenzirkel university/modern au!!!!

> what do you think all the hexenzirkel ladies (who are. remaining) fashion sense/style would be !!!!!

> since they meet up on a. floating island. in game; where would be their little meeting grounds/area in a modern setting? since floating islands are. sadly. not available.

> what would be the. age (or age range) for each of them?

> majors. and any other classes you think they’d take :3

> do you think they would live off or, on campus?

> since the hexenzirkel is a widely unknown/cryptic group in canonical teyvat ; what’s there like. status in. that area. throughout the students?

ok I think that’s it. Once again. Very very sorru for this. I hope you have a very very lovely day and experience much much happiness!!!! :)) 💜💜

DW I lob the asks they wrinkle my brain!!

I tend to think of them as roughly the same age in a college AU, but I must admit, it is kind of funny to think of Rhine and Nicole as typical students while Alice is a slightly older nontraditional student and Barbeloth is the middle-aged woman in your basics of math class flirting with the professor at 9 a.m. In the second case, Barbeloth would probably already have been living in a house off campus and then one day realized it had been invaded by 3 girls in their twenties (Rhine 20, Nicole 21, and Alice like 28). But to make things easier for my little chimp brain, I'm just gonna go with them all being traditional students😭.

Since there are enough of them, they'd live off-campus. Either way, I feel like half of them would run into issues living in a dorm. Alice probably met all of them in separate classes and somehow convinced them to be her friends and then meet her other friends... or they were studying in the weirdest place on campus that no one goes to and happened to see each other, pointing at each other Spider-Man meme style. Before living together, they met up, again, in the WEIRDEST places on campus. Places they should not be and that no one else has heard of. Stairwells that are 10 ft away from the main, open stairs type beat.

I'm outing my school as a small campus here, but since I don't believe in places that have a population over 10k, I cannot speak on what a large campus is like, and my bias may be obvious. But everyone probably has at least seen them all, alone and together, before. Maybe not on a name basis, but more like, "Oh yeah, that girl I crossed paths with every Tuesday and Thursday for several months. Everyone knows Alice because she's everywhere and in everything, but they also realize they know nothing substantial about her. So, people know of them, but no one really knows what kinda shenanigans they get into.

majors and style and whatevs

Rhine: I've already spoken about her style, and it wouldn't change much in this AU. She is a hardcore biochem major who has not and will not take an ethics class (honestly, who has taken an ethics class? not i,,,). Not in any clubs or activities, but she's doing research with a professor. Took a choir class for her fine arts gen ed and didn't completely hate it but the concerts drained her (esp with her friends being obnoxious about it)

Alice: She's one of those welcome week leaders for freshmen and she dresses like it. IMO her style is more tomboyish/atleisure wear. Her crocs are in sport mode, baybey!! She'd be a double major in two completely different fields... something like a chemistry and history double major with a studio art minor... just completely unrelated and gives everyone whiplash. She's tried most clubs at this point, but got bored of most real quick. Outside of the welcome week stuff, she probably also has a job on campus in like the student aid office or something. Students don't get a break from her... even if she's not there... they know she's always around the corner.

Nicole: History major with a communications minor. Plant mom/ art hoe style that was all the craze in what 2016? something like that, but she dressed like that long before it was trendy and long after the hype died. IDK what clubs she'd be in, if any, but she'd probably work at a bar once she was old enough. Seems like her vibe and she'd probably get good tips (it's also how she met Venti in this universe. Rhine met him in choir and he was probably gossiping about her at the bar. Nicole let him know in the most subtle way that she knew who he was talking about and he feared for his life, even more so when Alice tried to get him to meet her friends). I could see her being a tutor mayhaps

Barbeloth: Dresses like either an english major or a highschool english teacher. She met Alice in a studio art class she had to take for her generals. TBH she seems like she'd be in a few clubs, like an art club and book club... something basic but still fun y'know? She'd be a teacher's assistant and/or tutor. As for her major... I GENUINELY HAVE NO IDEA JFIOIFUW if I said astronomy, I think she'd become real and roll me in a carpet. Maybe like psychology?? sociology?? anthropology?? IDK fam i have no clue😭.

ALSO in this universe, they're a lot more silly with their lil witchy stuff. Even if they don't believe it in this AU, they've probably done a seance in their living room and done luigi bored games... wa weg board... oijo bord... they also watch a lot of horror movies

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

We’ve never made (& never planned to make) a pinned post of frequently asked questions (FAQs) or important info but...here we are. After an influx of new people, I think it might be time to make a proper introductory post.

Heads up that this will be long because I don’t want multiple parts. I’ll drop a read-more line after the basic info so you can choose whether to read the rest.

~~

¡Hi! We are the Void Galaxy (that’s a D.I.D. system name). We are a traumagenic system with D.I.D. Welcome to our blog.

We’ll start with basics, go over a lil history, & then have terms, tags, side blogs, rules, & FAQs (in that order).

So here is a masterpost for all of the info that y’all may need on our page.

Note that I’ll elaborate on in rules/boundaries: We don’t mind “spamming” likes & reblogs. It’s completely okay to do so on this blog or our side blogs 💜.

~Nico

~~~

Basics:

Profile Picture (PFP): ¡We didn’t make the art in our PFP! We got it from @nightcatssketchbook 💜

Body’s age: 24 years

Pronouns: he/they collectively, but headmates vary & we’ll attempt to remember to include pronouns with names when someone new posts.

We’re also all for being thrown a curveball (unexpected) pronoun, as long as it’s not she/her (very much doesn’t fit us) or it/its (doesn’t fit us). We may not like every one people use, but as long as it’s used in good faith, we probably won’t mind. Unless it’s a headmate who requests otherwise, or it’s Serenity (who uses they/she, making her the only headmate who still uses she/her at all; they’re open to curveball pronouns except for he/it), most pronouns are fair game. So...¿surprise us?

Gender Identity: We usually say nonbinary-ish man. Our lover offered boyflux / manflux and that’s the best specific label we have.

(We tend to explain our gender day to day very differently. Sometimes queer man, sometimes wizard/sorcerer, sometimes abstract concept, or something genderless/agender. It doesn’t stay still. The only thing we are not (even including Serenity, who is feminine-ish nonbinary)) is a girl.)

¿AGAB?: The biological sex we were accused of at birth is none of your business. We were convicted as a nonbinary-ish man as an adult and that’s what matters.

¿Number of Headmates?: We are polyfragmented and honestly I’ve lost track at this point 😭

¿When did we discover we had D.I.D.?: The journey began with undeniable evidence in early 2019. We were first medically confirmed in June of 2020.

¿Who is fronting for / writing this post?: My name is Nicolás Carriedo, but everyone calls me Nico and I usually tag myself as Nico on this blog. You can usually identify me from español being slipped in to posts, purple emoji hearts 💜, & sometimes ¿? ¡! and other tone tags (others use those sometimes).

I’m an age slider (my age varies from stress), but I’m usually 18 to the body’s age. (Sometimes I’ll be 5 or 7 or 9 or otherwise a little for a bit. (Similar to age regression, except my body in headspace slides to match and I forget everything that happened after that age, and it’s a D.I.D. experience & because I also age regress sometimes.)) As far as roles, I’m a frequent fronter right now, but I’m also a protector and trauma holder.

(Please do nOT call me Nick, I hate it and that’s not my name, & I won’t respond to it. My name is español / de España. I also have two dads and an older brother in system with me.)

~~~

History / where & when this blog began:

This blog began as a reblogging and sneaky backdoor-into-the-internet blog back in 2011 (was not supposed to have Internet or computers, so we used school computer labs and libraries), and became a fandom and shenanigans page back in 2013. In 2019 to 2020, it also became a bit of a healing journey & mental health page as we ended up with undeniable evidence that we were plural and needed a place to vent those feelings and discoveries that our biological (bio) family, and especially our bio parents, would not find.

Now it is becoming a mix of shenanigans and reblogs, and actual advice and knowledge and theories and discoveries, and sometimes a place where we mention or discuss witchcraft and polytheism. (I don’t know when it officially became a blog that people followed for the reassurance and theories and advice, but here we are.)

~~~

Terms:

• Plurality / Multiplicity (noun / adjective): refers to the fact that one brain & body has multiple people in it, whether they have OSDD-1 or D.I.D.

• System(s) (noun): the collective people sharing a brain & body, or identifying as a unit. This can be two people or many. A system is a single group; systems refers to multiple bodies who experience plurality. Some systems also have subsystems, groups within the same body/mind that identify as or are considered somehow separate from the main system.

• Headmates, Headmages, Mindmages, Mindmates, etc. (noun): these refer to the people in a plural system. Each individual person is a headmate, mindmate, etc., including the host(s) &/or gatekeeper(s). The term in the DSM is “alters” but that refers to ‘alternate personalities’, which treats us as facets of a whole, like some monstrous Frankenstein’s monster, that doesn’t actually exist. Headmates/mindmates is akin to calling them roommates (we live together and share a space; we can be friends or family, but can also be strangers who never meet or strictly business partners or acquaintances or etc. & don’t automatically get along, so roommates encompasses all possibilities for us). As for mindmages/headmages, my keyboard auto-corrected to this once and I stared at it and laughed, and started actually using it because I loved the idea of magic & fantasy being interwoven with our existence. The most common term you’ll see us (& some other systems) use is headmates.

• Fronting/Fronted (verb - to front): the act of controlling the body & interacting with the outside world. This can be the person writing/typing, speaking, doing chores, taking care of the body, etc.. For some systems, this is like puppeteering from a distance, and others it’s like a computer or video game console, and there are likely other ways this is represented (all systems are unique).

• Front (noun): the physical/mental place from which we front (verb). This can be a blank space for some systems, or a house, or something more complicated. Our fronting space is currently a room that has computer screens to see outside (3 screens; peripheral vision (2) + central vision), and we control the body via PS3 remote controls like a video game. Sometimes there will be multiple people stealing one remote or passing it around, and sometimes there will be multiple remotes as we share control of the body & voice. There's a city around the building and all the buildings are made of a reddish brown brick. (I have a very vivid imagination so we have a vivid headspace that I built to make the space more comfortable.)

• Co-conscious (co-con) (verb / noun (place)): when a mindmage is conscious of the outside world, near enough to the fronting space to observe what the others are doing, but not in control of the body.

• Co-front(ing) (verb): when two or more headmates front together. There might be a primary fronter with others co-front, close enough to control the body &/or speak, or there may be 2 or more headmates splitting the controls.

• Mindscape, Headspace, Mind Palace, etc. (nouns): the physical place inside our mind where we go when we dissociate. If we dissociate a little we see the fronting space, but if we switch out or dissociate to co-con we can see different parts of it. Some people have a blank space or no visuals, and some have vivid &/or complex headspaces. Our mindscape is complex and vivid.

• Roles: these are the jobs that headmates may be assigned. They describe the tasks that person usually does. This can be a person remembering trauma the other(s) can’t handle (trauma holder), the person protecting the system or a headmate from further trauma (protector, persecutor), the person taking care of the physical body or helping the body cope through heavy emotions or flashbacks (caretaker, caregiver), or more.

~~~

Tags:

• # ~Nico, # ~Jack, or other # ~name tags — these are fronting tags. We may forget sometimes but are trying to consistently tag whoever wrote or reblogged a post in the post &/or the tags.

• # original art, # original photography, # original character, etc. - these are photos, art pieces, & characters we designed. They may be reblogs from our other side blogs, but they are ours. Unless marked, any photography or characters we reblog don’t belong to us. However, other people’s art with be marked with # not my art or # not our art

• # Liliana, # Liliana 🐱, # Lili, # Lili 🐱, # our kitty, # my kitty - We have a calico kitty named Liliana (nickname Lili). Sometimes we talk about her or share photos 💜. These tags mark when a post is about her.

~~~

Side Blogs:

@void-galaxy-art-stuffs - ¡art we’ve made! Some of this may contain triggering content / topics though, so scroll at your own discretion.

@void-galaxys-photos - photos we’ve taken. These are all taken on cell phones (most recently (past 3 years), Samsung Galaxy S8, Samsung Galaxy S21, & Moto One 5G Ace (Motorola)). We often take pictures of nature, especially clouds.

@note-to-self1119 - these are notes we need, directed at our younger self, but they may be helpful for others

@teaquotes48 - these are quotes I’ve found on tea bags when we drink cold/flu tea. Some of those quotes were just worth sharing 🤷‍♂️☺.

@wpffw - this is where we share writing prompts that are quotes or scenes from stories. Two or three are from our creative writing class in high school, two or three are ideas, and we occasionally reblog prompts/quotes, but the rest are quotes & scenes from our own writing. We hoped someone else may benefit from prompts in this style, after we discovered a lot of prompts were too vague or too specific or just...not inspiring or giving us ideas and that we write easier from lines out of books and TikTok videos and songs than we do from those. The blog name stands for Writing Prompts For Fictional Writers. It's a couple years old and has around 170 prompts. Prompts are primarily around fantasy & magic and queer & trans characters, & of course plenty of trauma & comfort trope scenes/quotes, with some exceptions.

@say-it-with-me-affirmations - affirmations we have written down for y’all to look through and benefit from

~~~

Rules & Boundaries:

• We are not a medical professional, or licensed psychologist. There will be questions where all we can do is tell you to seek professional help.

• Asks (including anon) are open. If you have a question we may be able to answer, ask. The most we’ll do is say we aren’t comfortable answering your question, or reply privately to your ask. You will not be belittled, mocked, or bullied for what you don’t know, and we are comfortable answering most questions around our plurality (and some other categories). If we have the spoons you will likely get an answer. It’s also okay to use asks to say hi, or to let us know our content helped you in some way (on or off anon). ¡We also post ask games sometimes and would love it if people participated in those with us!

• That said, hateful or cruel asks will be deleted and blocked. We may also delete other asks at our discretion. We are not obligated to answer every ask, and may choose not to sometimes.

• Our ask box is not a space for donation requests. We don’t have money to help anyone, and it’s likely our followers don’t either. We may boost existing posts, but won’t start a new one from asks. We wish you the best in getting that help, but that’s not what this page is for.

• LGBT+ hate won’t be tolerated on this blog, or our side blogs. This includes bioessentialism, trans-misogyny, trans-misandry, transphobia, enbyphobia, aphobia (acephobia, arophobia), biphobia, etc. Your replies or asks will be deleted and you will be blocked.

• Sexism, racism, and other bigotry (-isms, -phobias) won’t be tolerated on this blog or our side blogs. Your replies or asks will be deleted and you will be blocked.

• Free Palestine (stop the genocide), BLM, ACAB, and anti-capitalism. If you disagree with any of those movements, please block us and leave our page. If you argue any of these points, your replies or asks will be deleted and you will be blocked.

• We are long overdue for a full-scale revolution (pro LGBT+, pro ‘cringe’ / weirdness, pro true freedom, pro neurodivergent, pro culture, pro choice & for people making medical decisions about their own bodies (medical gender transitions / gender affirming care, abortion or post partum care, etc.), pro (better) therapy, pro emotional maturity, anti-racist, anti-capitalist, anti police / ACAB, anti occupation/colonization, anti ableist, anti white supremacy, anti conversion/assimilation). Either get out of the way or join us.

• Please please please reblog from us. We don’t mind “spamming” likes & reblogs. It’s actually very fun for us to witness / be notified about. If you like our content, 100% ¡share it, reply to it, send us asks about it! Engagement is not at all annoying or problematic. 💜☺

~~~

FAQs:

Q: ¿What does “medically confirmed” mean?

A: We have not been told if we have a professional diagnosis on paper yet. But we have been openly acknowledged by 3 different licensed medical professionals and repeatedly told to seek a D.I.D. specialist for a professional diagnosis.

~

Q: ¿How did you get medically confirmed 3 times?

A: After a year of therapy (first time around; ended June 2020), our therapist said she “[had] met 26 of [us]” and that she highly recommended we got to a D.I.D. specialist. (We did not know how to find, or have money for, a specialist at the time.) That means a professional confirmed our existence. This happened again with our new therapist (began August 2023), who has already distinctly met 3 of us (me, Lucca, & Serenity). We know because we’re getting more comfortable openly presenting as plural; I usually wear blue (shirt + button up / flannel) with the body’s natural hair, but Lucca wore a wig that looks like his hair in headspace and a green outfit (shirt + flannel) and Serenity (they/she) wore a wig and a dress with a coat over it that covered up our chest (we agreed to let her not bind in the therapy room as long as they wore a coat to hide our chest elsewhere). Our therapist has also encountered (co-conscuious, has spoken aloud but wasn’t fronting) Jack several times, and this week she encountered Wolfe and Sylver for the first time. So that’s two therapists. And lastly, our psychiatrist asked about what the intake person had only noted as “hears voices” (I explicitly called it D.I.D. so that was rude), & I was honest. By the second check-in on meds, she explicitly asked us “who’s fronting today?” (she met me, Nico, before that but I was alone, & that time there were 3 others with me, no clue how she knew) & especially after that session (we were switchy and talking to eachother aloud) she agreed that she saw signs of D.I.D. and that we should seek a specialist when we can. Between all of those, that makes us triple medically confirmed. (Technically our current therapist has an intern shadowing her who has also seen and acknowledged our D.I.D./plurality, but she's not licensed yet.)

~

Q: ¿Do you believe that D.I.D./OSDD-1 has to be professionally diagnosed to be valid?

A: Absolutely not. Access to professional diagnosis is limited and often expensive. It can take up to 15 years (and sometimes several medications) to get the correct diagnosis, and the minimum is usually 3 to 5 years. I do think that self diagnosis should be careful and involve official research papers (using Google Scholar if needed, but preferably using scientific journals if you can access them), because (a) confirmation bias (believing you have something & ignoring any evidence to the contrary) & (b) there are similar disorders that may fit better. There has also been some stigma and misinformation spread on social media (and in movies) to be wary of. But I do believe that most self diagnosed D.I.D./OSDD systems are correct about their own experience and are completely valid.

~

Q: ¿Are there movies or TV shows where I can learn more about D.I.D. or see it represented? ¿Are there ones I should avoid?

A: Yes, if you take them with a grain of salt because they are still dramatized and may contain misinformation or stigma or other biases. Most systems believe Moonknight (a TV show on Netflix) is the current most accurate representation. But as far as avoiding representation, or being cautious to do high levels of misrepresentation or only representing dangerous & negative stories around plurality, please avoid or be careful with The Crowded Room, & Split & Glass.

~

Q: ¿Did you shatter/break as a child? / ¿How did you become plural?

A: (No.) The current most supported theory (supported by evidence with replicable results, but psychology is a newer science and not a hard science so not 100% proven) says that everyone is born with identity fragments. These fragments integrate with a single identity and memory at 9 to 12 years old, in healthy childhood. This creates a multifaceted personality, or the phenomenon of people being a different person with their family vs coworkers vs lovers. When a child forms plurality (D.I.D./OSDD-1), repeated trauma (mixed with severe trauma, or smaller trauma compounding) prevents these fragments from fully integrating their identity, memory, or both. These fragments get separated by amnesia walls (they forget about one another, forget about memories or separate identities or both, & can't access or integrate with one another), which then forces each individual fragment to form its own multifaceted identity. The difference between 1a, 1b, & D.I.D. is the degree of identity separation / distinctly different people and the degree of amnesia (forgetting trauma, day to day events, &/or switches). The identity & memory separation cannot be from religious or cultural experiences (e.g. shamanic practices or religious trances) and has to be persistent (the minimum observation time prior to professional diagnosis is one year). It's usually a covert disorder, but if someone discovers their plurality it can start to reveal itself in more obvious ways.

(Spirit (one of our headmates) actually wants to combine these into one label, something along the lines of ‘traumatic amnesia with plurality’, & (similar to autism) have what is now separate diagnoses be scales under a single label (degrees of identity & memory separation), but unless that happens they are considered three separate and related disorders.)

~~~

If you actually read this far, thank you so much, and welcome to our page! 💜

¿What song, band, or playlist saved your life when you were at your lowest?

(¡tell us asks, replies, or reblogs if you want to!)

(My answer: Citizen Soldier (Let It Burn, Would Anyone Care; ICU, You Are Enough), but also sometimes Simple Plan or other bands/songs.)

~Nico

[maya-matlin]

Hi Ashton, I love your blog and wanted to ask whether there are any ships that you WANTED to like and objectively know are good couples but which you just can't muster any actual feelings for? For me it's Brulian. Like objectively they're great at least starting in s8 when they suddenly rewrote Julian's whole personality and I love that Brooke found happiness. BUT they just don't spark anything for me when I see them on screen, their chemistry is meh, their connection feels forced, and what is with Julian's ongoing obsession with Brooke's high school life and the fact that she was "popular" even when they're in their mid to upper 20s lol! Another one is Steroline. Friends to lovers, personalities that should perfectly complement each other and so on, but in reality they were so flat, and the acting and writing never sold me on them being anywhere close to in love. And the biggest one: Joey/Pacey. Everyone I know adores them and I wanted to ship them, but they just go overboard with the nonstop bickering to the point where they almost never seem truly compatible to me, Joey keeps choosing other guys over Pacey for the final two seasons - even that Eddie guy and then some rando from NY - and I just always feel like there's this imbalance where about 90% of the time Pacey is a lot more into Joey than she's into him? Anyway those are my confessions re solid ships I wanted to love but just don't give me any real feels. I would love to hear yours!

Hi! 💜 Thank you so much!

So to begin with, I definitely agree about Brulian. Their relationship is fine and relatively healthy, but I find it impossible to care about their romantic relationship. It's almost unfair that I compare them to Brucas because objectively, Brooke's relationship with Julian had a much stronger foundation and he treated her better than Lucas ever did. I mean, Julian was in a much better place by the time they became a couple and didn't have Lucas's baggage. But at the same time, so much time was dedicated to Brooke's reaction to her first love betraying her with her best friend to the point she spent years avoiding love. Even when she seemed to think she'd found it such as when she dated Chase, eventually Brooke was forced to realize that it wasn't the real thing and likely just a rebound. I guess I wanted more from their relationship? The chemistry was fine, but nothing special. They lacked the rawness of Brooke and Lucas. Sometimes, chemistry isn't everything. But when the story is nothing special and it's so late into the series AND the chemistry isn't grabbing you, this leads to a situation where it's difficult to root for the pairing even when you want to. But yeah, Julian clearly had some insecurities regarding the fact he was the high school geek and romanticized the idea of Brooke and co's high school experience. Because obviously, nothing could ever be better than growing up in a small, southern, most definitely conservative town where its mayor murdered his own brother.

I can't speak for Stefan/Caroline yet because I've still only seen the first season of the show, but I understand why you feel that way. I've seen that sentiment expressed before. On paper, they're my type of ship, so I'm curious how I'll respond to their romantic relationship. Because so far, I'm really enjoying Stefan's relationship with Elena and hating the inevitable Elena/Damon thing.

Yeah.. I can't agree with your Pacey/Joey opinion at all. But I will say that Joey really suffered writing wise because she needed to be a possible love interest to both Dawson and Pacey. So Joey needed to appear as though she loved Pacey and was committed to him. But at the same time, there needed to be enough doubt and ambiguity that whenever the writers were ready, they could pull the plug and act like it was always Dawson for Joey. Which is basically what happened for like a season. As a result, Pacey appears more into Joey because he had no reason to be conflicted in universe. IDK. I promise I'm not trying to change your opinion. Just trying to discuss what I think went wrong LOL. Anyways, I'm sorry you weren't able to invest in their relationship!

I think my actual answers are likely to be a disappointment, but I'll try.

Fiona/Imogen (Degrassi): Maybe it's because I wasn't super into Fiona's story lines during this time. Maybe I just struggled to care about any relationship that wasn't Zig and Maya's in season 12. But for some reason, I never cared about these two. I acknowledge they were sweet and overall healthy. If I was watching for the first time now, I'd probably be on board. But because I already know how their story line plays out, there's no excitement for me? So I don't see my opinion on their relationship ever changing.

Dallas/Alli (Degrassi): I blame my disinterest on the fact Alli went from boyfriend to boyfriend for multiple seasons. The writers' favorite pastime was luring Alli into a false sense of security before her latest relationship blew up in some brutal fashion. Dallas was boyfriend #5, right after Alli's abusive (brief) husband. It's obvious to me Dallas was truly in love with Alli and treated her the best out of all of her boyfriends, but I never bought it on Alli's end. I feel like Alli settled for Dallas after her marriage came to a shocking, traumatizing end and entered a relationship with him while she was still healing from that. Besides, I think this story line was done even better with Dave, someone I actually believed Alli loved, following her first two terrible relationships. The writers not so subtly traded one, black main character for another and pushed Dave out of the show the minute Dallas gained prominence.

Clay/Quinn (OTH): Overall, the later seasons weren't as well written as the early ones. I feel like there was a certain pressure to immediately establish Clay and Quinn as the couple to root for. Before we were familiar with their individual characters, they were being shoved into scenes together, confiding in each other over Clay's dead wife and Quinn's failed marriage. It didn't work for me? I mean, I felt more watching the flashbacks to Clay and Sara's romance than I ever felt with Clay and Quinn in three seasons. They were fine. It's nice they made each other happy, and they were a cute family with Logan. But I was indifferent to the relationship itself.

Tim/Lyla (Friday Night Lights): To be fair, I've only seen this show once. Everything indicates they'd be a couple I'd like. The chemistry was there. It's hard not to invest in the "guy falls for his best friend's girlfriend/ex" story line unless it's Archie and Betty. The actors were gorgeous together. Tim brought out a more fun, lighter side to Lyla. But I couldn't bring myself to care about them, and I'm not sure why. Something didn't feel right.

[the-shadowsingers-whore]

warning: i'm about to be controversial

so i very rarely talk about controversial acotar opinions (i.e. gwynriel vs elriel) outside of mumblings in my own tags bc i don't really feel like arguing with people. i'm just here to have a good time and talk about books, but for some reason the acotar fandom can get real heated (and low key toxic) sometimes.

that being said....

i can't not talk about nesta.

i know so many people do not like acosf and absolutely hate nesta, but honestly i think her character is so real and validating to a lot of people.

yes, her behavior in acosf (and also acofas) is absolutely not okay and she is horrible to so many people. and while that's not cool in any regards you have to remember: she is suffering

her entire life was turned upside down and then she went through a shit ton of traumatic, gruesome events all in like a month or two. she didn't even have time to come to terms with her new body/new world before she experienced some of the worst things possible (not to count the terrifying powers she knows she has, but doesn't know how to control).

so she reacts by coping in horrible ways. as people do before they learn how to handle their trauma in healthy ways.

and before you come at me and say "well everyone else has experienced trauma and didn't act like that" i would like to remind you that all of them have had their moments before finally starting to heal. elain turned into a shell of a person, not eating or doing anything for months. cassian literally slaughtered dozens of people and decimated an entire village when he found out what happened to his mom.

i'm not excusing her behavior in any way shape or form. but i have such a deep appreciation for the way her character is written and how much she struggles to heal. the inside look into her thoughts and feelings is so validating.

i think a lot of people felt so seen reading some of things nesta thinks about herself/her life (i know i did). here are just a couple examples of times when i was reading that i actually had to stop for a moment bc the words hit a little too hard.

"i am worthless and i am nothing. i hate everything that i am. and i am so, so tired. i am tired of wanting to be anywhere but in my own head." acosf p. 78

she had failed in every aspect of her life. utterly and spectacularly failed, and keeping other from realizing it had been her main purpose. she had shut them out, had shut herself out, because the weight of all those failures threatened to shatter her into a thousand pieces." acosf p. 267

"it scared her more than anything. that utter lack of feeling. how good it had felt, to be so removed." acosf p. 383

like.......damn.

also i know she was a pos to feyre both growing up and throughout most of the books. she's absolutely terrible to her. but, i would like to just point out that people change. and watching her slowly realize her mistakes and start to rebuild her relationship with feyre throughout acosf is really beautiful.

anywhooo i know this post is getting really long, but basically all of this is just to say that i think having a character like nesta is so important to a lot of people. i truly appreciate how sjm writes her characters to be real people with real experiences (minus the magic and horribly gruesome torture) that her readers can relate to.

thanks for actually reading this whole post and if you still don't like nesta that is totally fine (everyone has a right to their own opinions), but please don't bombard me with hate. this is just meant to be me sharing my own thoughts and feelings. 💜

[evansblues]

"You’ve basically gotten what I’ve been consistently getting for months. Unhappiness, turmoil, discontent, yet the situation remains with no explanation as to why. I also frequently get more information than I specifically asked for. It’s as though the energy is so chaotic it wants to just spill the whole story. This reading paints a picture of chaos and war. Thanks you for sharing. 💜🌷"

Yes, so it's not just me that get extra bits to this situation sometimes. For months everything comes out as the worst couple reading known to mankind, yet here we are. something is very fishy. I did a quick reading this morning on Chris current energy because I did on if there is a wedding but not on him. this is going to be my last reading on it. i got these and I was like come on, this can't be for real. stop playing a joke on me Spirit. Im gonna take them but I don't like it because I want him to be happy. I want all people to find there happiness, Alba too. If it was with each other it would show that so Im so confused. Now I want to clear that this is just my interpretations of the cards I was given and energy shifts every minute. This reading today might not be the same in a weeks time. This was what spirit allowed/shared with me and as a reader I do my best to translate the message.

but here are the cards about Chris's Current energy as of this morning

Queen of Cups(rx)

4 of Cups

Tower

10 of Swords(Rx)

Sun; I wanted to clarify to see what this Sun at the end was about and got The Lovers(rx)

Queen of Cup in reverse is such an emotional energy and not in a good way most of the time. Im talking depression and self loathing type of feelings. when she is paired with better card she can point to feelings of fantasy and sometimes swooning over an object of desire. BUT seeing her fellow cards that were drawn ain't no swooning. IF she was up right it would be better. But she's not and Paired with the 4 of cups there's a lot of emotion here and NOT ONE I would wish on anyone when it comes to the recent events. the 4 of cups is a card regret, depression and frustration. NO new Groom/husband energy should ever give you the 4 of cups when asking how he is feeling about getting married. there's no way to spin that in a positive way. Especially sandwiched in between that reversed queen and the ever looming Tower.

That Tower has followed Chris for a long while now. and so many have question and wondered if every little thing was his tower moment. The earth has shook, foundation has shifted, the tower has fallen. Your world has been shaken to the point of destruction and there is no saving it. again the Tower shouldn't show up in a reading regarding the energy around a wedding. Also The Tower is a card of Divorce. Well, if there was in fact a legal wedding that happened this weekend... it don't look good for the long term. The Tower followed by the 10 of Sword. I hate it.

Another 10 and this one is the most violent of the four. again 10s are a completion, and 10 of Sword is going to leave you bloody. You have failed in your journey and you hit rock bottom. But you can always climb back up because endings bring new beginnings and it's up to him on how the next journey shall go. This 10 is the darkness before the light of the Sun shines in.

Drawing the Sun in the upright position, I was shocked because everything else sucks. The Sun following that 10 of Swords is a good thing. This is Happiness and joy. The sun card should been at the top of the reading if they are so in love and he's the happiest he's ever been. But it comes after the tower and 10 of swords. whatever was before those weren't making you happy. The Sun card allows you to be free and able to express yourself. These feeling are only noticed when one has be burdened with something like 10 sword in your back. Being in love shouldn't make you feel like that. The sun bring truth to the surface and that truth allows you freedom.

The sun was clarified by a less optimistic card The Lovers in reverse. The lovers in this position is not great in readings about love. remember I said the Tower is a card of divorce well the Lovers reversed is conflict and detachment. In reversed position there is a ending of a relationship. I wanted to know why That sun made an appearance and it seems this is it. Disunion of the Union that has be bond in the vows of marriage.

That’s what happens every time! Yup, ok, yes that matches, wait what are you doing here? There’s always that one card that isn’t like the others.

Excellent reading again. Thank you. 💜🌷

[lilithsaga]

I wish to share the story of a strong woman vtuber Saphera De Noma.

Her youtube video is

The TRUTH Behind Kirsche's Ban and DEBUNKING Rev's Claims of My "Massive" Hypocrisy

Saphera De Noma bravely stood her own calling out KirscheVerstahl for her toxic right wing rhetoric speeches and then calling out Rev Says Desu for trying to slander Saphera De Noma as a hypocrite when Saphera found hypocritical evidence about Rev Says Desu. Saphera De Noma is an inspiration ray of hope for women in the vtubing community. KirscheVerstahl was also responsible for getting VShojo Apricot Froot harassed over her donations to Mermaids Charity when Apricot Froot herself has a youtube video recording of herself donating around four thousand dollars to the Make A Wish charity foundation.

A youtube channel called TriForce Clips uploaded a youtube video called Apricot (Froot) sings Rainy day LIVE during Make A Wish.

Just watched Saphera's YouTube video for full clarity. I remember watching her during the peak of the Nijisanji EN black video fallout and her coverage of the Toru Karu situation when she used to do vtuber news stuff. Love her for being unapologetically herself and for advocating for what she believes in. 💜

(And her design is super cute! Totally not exposing myself for thinking angelic vtubers are some of the prettiest... even as a succubus myself! But like, seriously, look at how cute she is!) 😍

I do remember the Rev Says Desu video from a few weeks ago. When I watched it, I thought it was pretty unfair and laughable for him to call her out for jokingly fangirling over fictional characters. Even in the clip he showed, it's abundantly clear that she's just having fun and not delusional or obsessed with a character. He seems to think anyone who talks about waifus or husbandos are mentally insane.

Like, "God forbid women have interests!" 😂

The vtuber space in general doesn't normally seem to be a place for kids or anyone under 18 years of age. Countless corporate and indie vtubers make it clear that they don't want school children watching their streams, whether it be because of the nature of their content or another reason.

Is that going to stop any kid from watching vtubers anyways? No. But that's why many vtubers express their desire to have an 18+ audience and remove those who are underage.

Basically, vtubers aren't going to police their own content on the chance that a child opens up their stream. It's clear most vtubers aren't for child audiences, regardless of if you're Saphera de Noma, Kirsche Verstahl, Ana Valens or Rev Says Desu. Personally, I just think it comes with the territory.

So seeing Kirsche and Rev call out Ana and Saphera for degenerate simping, when it's literally such a common trope associated with vtubers in general (even seiso ones might make an edgy joke here or there), is extremely hypocritical.

Especially when Rev himself is constantly disappointed in game studios making "woke" games and getting rid of oversexualized feminization... so it's clear that he's fine with content that's not for kids being displayed on his channel.

Also, everything Saphera de Noma said in her tweets is justifiable criticism.

Literally her:

Kirsche reading Ana's explicit fanfiction on Twitch is ABSOLUTELY going to get you banned. It doesn't matter who it's written by! Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. She only has herself to blame for that, not Ana. So yeah, totally justifiable for Saphera to call her out on that!

I'm kinda just rambling about the main points of the situation that I felt strongly about. I have a ton of respect for Saphera for standing her ground and not letting all the hate raids get to her. I hope more people can appreciate her in the years to come.

Didn't know Kirsche was behind some of Froot's harrassment. And over a charity event where Froot clearly sent donations? Damn. Really not liking Kirsche the more I hear about her.

I watched the video you suggested with Froot singing LIVE for the charity stream and it was wholesome to start the day to. I'll leave it for anyone else here who wants to listen to it.

But yeee, thank you Anon for the ask! I like talking about vtuber news to give my own opinion on things, but am usually too afraid to do so unless asked to or unless I'm really passionate about the topic.

And, assuming you're the same person who sent me an ask about Froot's disappearance a while back, you've been educating me about different vtubers I don't normally watch. So I'm grateful to hear your thoughts and discuss with you! 😊

[1d1195]

SAM MY LOVE DO I HAVE TO CATH YOU UP ON LIFE😭

Once again none of this will make sense bc it’s all over the place lol

So I’ve been a bit absent for so many reasons and for once it’s not my mental health lol so idk if you remember but i mentioned something about my allergies killing me but turns out it was so much more than allergies 😭 like bestie I GOT SICK! Like sick sick 😭 nothing serious thankfully but it has been very inconvenient timing! I’ve had three midterms to do this past week and sadly I could not get out of them so i basically did them while being on flu medication 😭 like I was not there at all lol I was for sure going through it lol I simply just couldn’t exist and I really had to force myself to be present for those exams lol but I’m a bit better now! A great improvement compared to the beginning of the week lol still not 100% but better!

I sadly had to cancel my plans to go out this weekend too 😔 tragic since I was looking forward to seeing my friends lol

ANYWAYSSSSS in my state of been on too much flu medicine (or is due to the mental illness🤪) I kept getting certain songs stuck in my head and this lyric “ I know it’s hard for you to take a compliment but my life began the day you came into it.” This reminds me of you and your stories! Like it’s very sad and sweet depending on how you view and I know I’m generalizing it but alot of your stories, at least for me, are always so sweet yet can literally break me lol

ALSOOOO bestie I read part 4 and it was so good!!!! I WAS NOT EXPECTING THEIR FIRST DATE AT ALL?!? So that was a nice surprise lol and the fact that they didn’t even make it to dinner it was just kinda cute for them!! Like i don’t think it seems a bit rushed only because at this point they have known about each other for a while and like it’s fiction so this is fine lol but ahh i love that they finally kissed lol im so excited for the next few parts!! Also please don’t feel rushed or pressed to post! I know how busy May will be and it’s okay for missing a weeks of posting!

Also it’s so adorable you get told you look like Belle! Getting compared to a Disney princess is cute! Unless you hate it then idk how to deal with that lol oh blue being your fave makes sense considering your blog theme is blue! I personally don’t have a fave but I do gravitate towards purples and blues but I don’t wear them lol and the thing about undertones and stuff I simply don’t understand that😭like it’s all so confusing for me hahah

I’m sorry your week didn’t start off well :( and knowing that two coworkers had to step in seems like it was rough! I’m sorry that you had to go through that! But I hope you’re better now or at least feel a bit calmer! Being in one’s head too much can be a very tricky and sometimes hard to get out of! I hope your week went a bit better. Hope that your treat yourself a bit this weekend and that you do something that makes you smile!!! I love you so much!!!-💜

I hate getting sick when the weather is getting warmer! (However, in my head, you told me you live on the West Coast and it's always kind of baseline warm so I assumed you were in California but maybe I'm mistaken but if that's the case I guess it's always warm but now it's warmER--anyway!!!) I'm so sorry you were under the weather! I figured midterms were taking most of your attention but fighting illness at the same time 😭 what a tough week!

I know how you feel. My friend invited me to get Chipotle and I declined because I simply reached my limit this week on people and everything. I felt so bad! I actually think she was kind of upset but like I just couldn't fathom going out for an hour+ when I had more stuff to do. Also I was a little annoyed that she made me feel bad about it. Idk, I'm a very independent person so if I want Chipotle, or ice cream, or something...I just go by myself 🤷‍♀️ I used to go to a restaurant between work and my grad school classes and would grade papers all alone at my table. Idk. I got tired of not doing things I wanted to do because I was alone so I just did them by myself.

😭 that's a very sweet lyric! I know exactly what you mean! (It reminds me most of Dolcezza). It's very hard to take a compliment in general hahaha I see that's a Miss Hayley Williams song, I will have to give it a closer listen 💕

TBH I didn't want to describe a dinner date scene 😂 so I thought it would be kinda cute this way I wanted them to actually be more intimate but it will have to wait for the next part No promises yet but I will probs be missing a few updates for sure. The check-ins that I usually post on Thursday are def out the window rn. But honestly the next part of Ding might not be posted till Thursday instead.

I DON'T UNDERSTAND THE UNDERTONES THING EITHER. My sister explained it to me and I just repeat it every now and again. I'll take being Belle. She likes to read, is very sweet, and I would so push Gaston into the mud given half the chance 🤣🤣

The rest of my week went pretty well actually. I'm feeling a bit burnt out but it is what it is. This week will be a long one but I should get a two-week stretch without a lot going on.

I hope you feel better and get lots of rest this weekend!

xoxo

[crazychaoticizzy]

i would like to start off by saying tay what the fuck. you better watch out because i am in your walls

ok spoilers and the thoughts I wrote as I was reading beneath the cut :)

first of all that flashback with Armin. literally fuck everything because i was crying and it was so- that was not necessary.

regardless to say even though he’s fucking DEAD (😒) I have always been and will always be team Armin because BECAUSE— WHO DID Y/N GO TO IN THE LAST CHAPTER??? SHE WENT TO ARMIN. SO BASICALLY SHE STILL LOVED HIM IN SOME WAY (like she does with all of her lovers probably but I think she loves Armin more because they had that connection when they were little and went through poverty together and yk) IM RIGHT TAY. EVEN IF IM NOT IM RIGHT. AND WHEN IT SAID “the boy you unknowingly loved was gone” BASICALLY PROVES IT BECAUSE BECAUSE IT CAN ALSO APPLY TO PRESENT WHERE HES FUCKING DEAD

and when he gave her a dandelion I literally cried because that’s so damn cute 🥺

and she might not have pushed him in front of a car but she definitely pushed him back into poverty 🤡 (LMAO IM SORRY-)

also I hate the press because how is a whole murder gonna be committed and people are more worried about whether or not the woman that called the police had a hand in it and who her lover is like guys.

“I just want to die so I can see Armin again.” My genuine reaction:

I was sobbing. fucking bawling. tears were falling down my face and my glasses were fogging up and I could not see for shit

Jean being upset about his hands made me so upset and I wanted to commit heinous crimes

AND REINER SAYING THAT AND SO I WAS RIGHT AND BASICALLY MY HEART IS BROKEN BECAUSE LOOK AT WHAT WE COULDVE HAD BUT NOOOOOOO TAY YOU HAD TO FUCKING KILL ARMIN

oh! listen here fucker you can’t be making me cry because I HAD TO TAKE LIKE A TEN MINUTE BREAK BECAUSE I COULDNT SEE SHIT THROUGH MY GARBAGE VISION AND TEARS

AND THEN YOU HIT ME WITH

AND I WANTED TO COMMIT MURDER. TAY IM NEVER FORGIVING YOU FOR THIS

and then Eren was dying and I literally started at my phone lifeless because what even is the point anymore

but it turned out okay because he’s not dead for now 😊

and her argument with Levi literally broke my heart and made me want to throw my phone because that’s how much her trust and heart has been broken that she doesn’t trust fucking LEVI anymore

and steak and lobster dinner wow that sure sounds familiar 🤔(i’ve never stopped thinking about how Armin promised her that on the rooftop looking at the stars and i will also never shut up about him even if he becomes irrelevant)

I really hate that they can go to a diner probably months after Armin’s death and Eren’s coma and have a grand time while I’m still fucking reeling at both those things and that shouldn’t be allowed

and the fact that Eren still loves her is literally everything because he probably doesn’t know that she’s been blaming herself for all of this but he’s still treating her like a person and he doesn’t think that at all and that’s just so beautiful and-

Tay but that end. THE FUCKING CLIFFHANGER. AGSHAHSHAHAGRH HOW ARE YOU GONNA END IT LIKE THAT AND NOW SHOW ANYONES REACTIONS OR THOUGHTS ITS SO-

imagine i’m grabbing you by the shoulders and aggressively shaking you while yelling because AHAHAHFHAH

but anyways. watch out cause I might be inside your walls 😊💜

and now i’m gonna stalk your page and reawaken discussions probably 💜

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

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

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

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Following Connie’s murderous attack on two of your ex lovers, one of them fights to stay alive, but the other person tragically died. Your world has turned into nothing but a mess of rumors, sadness, and fear, but there is hope — and hope comes in the form of your remaining lovers who haven’t yet given up on you. But, in the end, your heart will forever belong to your one true love.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem reader, modern/celebrity au, brief sex mention, heavy angst, marriage, divorce, cheating, mentions of violence & blood, gun mentions, miscarriage, mentions of false imprisonment, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk, suicide consideration, illness, hospitalization, & major character death. Some of the warnings listed here don’t necessarily apply to this part, but the series as a whole.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 23k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi everyone! Welcome to part 8, or rather, part 1 of the finale. Shoutout to @spicerackofblorbos for helping me plot this! I can’t believe this series is coming to an end. Please let me know what you think in the comments or in my inbox! There’s one more part after this.

— YEARS AGO - NEW YORK CITY —

“Mom? We’re back.” The front door — old with worn-out creases along its faded white wood — creaked when you opened it. 

If your mother couldn’t hear your voice as you greeted her upon returning to your apartment, then the sound of the raggedy front door announced your presence for you.

“Hey bird,” your mother’s comforting nickname, derived of the word songbird, made you smile. It always warmed you up, just like her cooking did as well. Even with a tight budget, her meals were always exceptional. 

Expensive ingredients grown and processed in beautiful foreign countries couldn’t compare to meals that were made with the love of a mother, who stood over a hot stove, preparing recipes that had been passed down from one generation to the next.

Perhaps, the thought of food was on your mind thanks to the tantalizing aroma of stew simmering in the kitchen a short distance away. A few steps away from the front door usually landed you right in front of the stove — the outdated apartment was rather cramped.

It too had been around for generations and generations.

Stepping to the side, you let Armin Arlert enter your home before shutting the squeaky door behind him.

“Armin’s here,” you called out, but truth be told, you didn’t need to. Armin was always here. He was practically family.

Together, you both made the short stride into the living room, where your mother was sitting on the couch, watching television. It wasn’t the nicest or most modern T.V. set in the world, but even so, Armin’s blue eyes were instantly glued to the impressive screen consisting of moving images. He didn’t have a T.V., and all of the other fifteen-year-old kids his age made it their duty to make fun of him for it.

“Hi miss L/N,” Armin greeted your mother, a soft smile gracing his face, his eyes darting between her and the television.

“Come on and have a seat.” Your mother nodded to the empty spot on the sofa next to her. Her hands were steadily knitting what appeared to be a blue sweater.

Armin politely sat down beside her. 

You sat on the floor as there wasn’t enough room on the tiny, dark grey sofa — your mother despised the depressing color; she dreamed of having a cushiony beige couch with lots of decorative pillows. 

You leaned your head against Armin’s knee, feeling the cool fabric of his worn-out blue jeans against the side of your head. Unbeknownst to you both, your mother saw the gentle display of affection, and she smiled. 

The sight of her daughter slowly falling in love — even if neither you nor Armin realized it yet — warmed her heart. 

“We can switch if you want to sit on the couch,” Armin offered.

“I’m fine. I like the floor.”

Armin ruffled your hair a bit. “Okay,” he said.

Turning his attention toward your mother, who glanced between the small and heavy T.V. and her knitting project, glasses hanging around the tip of her nose, he asked, “What are you watching?”

“The news,” placing both of her knitting needles in one hand, she grabbed the remote sitting on the arm of the sofa next to her and turned the volume up three notches. 

“I know you teens don’t watch the news nowadays, but you both should look at this, now. A kid in L.A. around your age just got arrested for playin’ too rough.”

“Huh?” You wrinkled your nose. “What does that even mean?”

“He was hangin’ out with his friends and ended up pushin’ one of them down a hill. Poor baby got hit by a speedin’ car. Now the boy who did it is gonna go to prison.” 

As you looked at the television screen, the image of a mugshot appeared. It was a teenage boy with sickly pale skin — probably stress-related, you figured — and a shaved head, his hazel eyes shining with tears.

“This story made national news because your generation needs to learn to be more careful. You two are always hangin’ out outside, so just be safe, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” you and Armin replied in unison.

Several minutes of news-watching passed on by. Your stomach started to rumble, hunger greeting you like an unwelcomed, familiar friend. 

But if you were hungry, then Armin must have been starving. 

Unlike you, he didn’t have breakfast that morning, or dinner the night before. Though the servings were small, it was better than surviving off of small pieces of bread and water like he was forced to do.

Turning around, you glanced back at him. He was fidgeting with his thumbs. 

The sweet smell of food traveling from the kitchen to underneath his nostrils certainly didn’t help the hunger pain.

While he knew your mother would offer him a warm plate, as she always did, he didn’t want to let on just how starved he was. He was too polite to show any indication that he was hungry.

But you recognized the signs. He was your best friend, after all. 

And you knew what to do.

“Mom? Is the food ready? I’m hungry.”

“Hm?” She mumbled, distracted by the news, which displayed the teary-eyed teenage boy in court, handcuffed like a criminal. “Oh, yes. Everything’s ready. You two go wash your hands and get somethin’ to eat. Make sure you turn the stove off.”

After making your filling, steaming bowls of stew, you and Armin decided to eat your food outdoors, sitting on the curb in front of your apartment.

The sky was a darkening shade of blue, orange streetlights brightening up the road — which meant you couldn’t go beyond the curb.

Mom’s rules.

Insects chirped in the distance in the high, green grass nearby. Fireflies started to dance.

“I hate when my mom watches that depressing stuff,” you said, scooping up a soft carrot with your spoon and taking a bite. “She always turns it into life lessons too. Like, I’m not gonna push you in front of a car or whatever. I’m not that stupid.”

“She just wants you to be safe,” Armin paused to swallow his food. “I think it’s kinda sweet.”

“You’re just saying that because she’s feeding you,” you teased, elbowing him gently. “She’s your best friend right now.”

“Got that right.”

For a few moments, you and Armin both ate in a comforting silence.

“Do you have to leave soon?” With a frown, you glanced up at him. “Mom said she wants to cut your hair.”

“Guess it’s getting pretty long, huh?” Armin touched his blonde strands. “I can’t stay though. Work.”

“Really? But what about school in the morning? Can you even work this late? Aren’t child labor laws a thing?”

“Shush, it’s fine.” Armin stood up, and you did the same. “I’m dropping out of school once I turn sixteen next year, so I guess it doesn’t matter if I show up tomorrow tired.”

“Okay,” you mumbled with a little frown. “I’ll take your bowl back inside then since you can’t stay or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Armin smiled kindly. “And tell your mom I said thanks for the meal.”

Suddenly, the fifteen-year-old reached down and plucked a yellow weed out of the ground. 

“Dandelion,” he said. With a playful grin, he stuck it behind your ear. 

“Get that dirty piece of grass out of my hair,” you grimaced, but even so, you didn’t dare remove it. 

“Absolutely not,” his grin softened. Despite his smile, his blue eyes glistened with sadness. He despised leaving your side, even for a work shift. “Well, I bid you an adieu or whatever.”

Your childhood friend started to walk away. 

“That’s the worst French I’ve ever heard, but bye!” You shouted with a small laugh.

However, your amusement quickly died out. 

A stomachache from hunger — which was now gone, thankfully — was similar to the twisting pains of watching your friend walk away, even with the promise of seeing them again. 

As if sensing your sudden sadness, Armin briefly turned around. The orange streetlights illuminated his kind face. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled back. “See you later. So long, or whatever.”

With a soft smile, Armin started to walk off again.

The boy you unknowingly loved was gone.

— PRESENT DAY - LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA — 

“Good morning everyone, and thank you for watching KTLA news. I am Daniella Robinson, reporting live from outside former CS Records manager Levi Ackerman’s house here in Los Angeles, California. Yesterday evening, police dispatchers received a disturbing phone call from singer and actress F/N L/N, in which she claimed that Eldian Devils band member, Eren Yeager, had been shot. Along with him, a waiter named Armin Arlert was shot as well. Both men were ex-husbands of Y/N, and after being questioned by the police, Y/N claimed that they were apparently shot by her current husband and owner of CS Records, Connie Springer.” 

The breeze blew through the young woman’s black hair. She stared into the camera lens in front of her, clenching her microphone.

“We have not been able to get our hands on the original phone call made by F/N L/N yet, nor reach out to her for a statement, but images of her leaving the police station with Levi Ackerman are currently being posted all over the internet and social media platforms, with some headlining articles claiming that the shocked woman, soaked in blood, looked like Carrie White, a fictional character from a horror novel created by Stephen King. As cruel as those comments are, they pale in comparison to the onslaught of articles, videos, and tweets circulating social media accusing Y/N of shooting the two men herself, or at the very least, conspired with Connie Springer to do so. 

While the police haven’t been able to locate Springer yet, we do know that Y/N is inside Levi Ackerman’s house, whom she has been accused of having an affair with in the past while married to Reiner Braun, an actor. When it comes to the fate of the two victims, Eren Yeager pulled through a very complicated and fatal surgery and is currently in a coma. However, Armin Arlert succumbed to his injuries, and has died around two A.M. this morning. Stay tuned for further updates as they become available to us.”

—

Annie Leonhart had warm hands.

Levi’s living room was cold. The air conditioning blasting throughout his mansion made sure of it. But Annie’s fingertips graced your skin before she wrapped her hand around yours snugly, and she was warm. You were grateful. 

Her sudden, comforting touch reminded you to breathe. To stay in the present.

The mechanical click of your eyelids cleared your blurry vision, which granted you the ability to see her hand holding yours, intertwined fingers resting on your thigh — your legs covered by a pair of black sweatpants you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

It must have been an article of clothing you accidentally left behind after moving out of Levi’s home a long time ago. 

Temporarily living with Levi after Eren got arrested for physically assaulting Jean was, perhaps, the last time a piece of ordinary fabric touched your skin. Nothing fancy. Nothing worth hundreds or thousands of dollars. 

If only you could go back in time.

If only you could have fixed everything back then. 

If only your problems were still revolved around being a heartbreaker, and not witnessing murder.

No.

That wasn’t good enough.

If only you and Armin had stayed in New York City together, spent your days working in that little bakery and sitting on the rooftop of that abandoned building, staring at the beautiful stars above.

But now, you would never get a chance to look up at the stars with him ever again. 

You would never get another chance to stare into his gorgeous eyes, listen to his soft voice, or hug his warm body — his subtle scent of cinnamon rolls washing over you.

He was gone.

He transitioned from this world and into the afterlife not surrounded by loved ones as an old man in a cozy bed as he once dreamed, but surrounded by unknown surgeons — cold, terrified, and in an unspeakable amount of pain. 

Nothing could bring him back. 

Nothing could . . .

“Hey,” Annie softly called out. 

The blonde-haired woman leaned forward a bit. You could see her concerned gaze within your peripheral vision. You didn’t have the energy to turn your head and face her. 

“Your breathing was . . .” Annie paused, trying to search for the right word. “Just try to breathe.”

Breathe.

What a difficult activity that had turned out to be.

Your panic attacks were something Levi had told Annie to watch out for. He gave her quite a few directions as he gathered his belongings, getting ready to leave his home.

“I’m going to pick up Carla and Grisha from the airport and take them to the hospital,” Levi had said earlier. “I have to keep Eren’s parents safe. What a fucked up world we live in.”

Eren forced his family to leave Los Angeles to get away from Connie. They dreaded the thought of living far away from their son, especially when their boy forced them away for their safety, and yet, was staying behind. His poor mother often stayed awake at night, sitting by her cell phone and staring at the television, hoping that her famous, endangered son would survive another night in Hollywood — hell on earth, as she liked to call it. 

Her worst fear had come true.

Her beloved son had been shot and could die at any moment — while she was packing her bags, boarding the private jet with her distraught husband, or during the long flight from Maine to California.

“I’m about to leave,” Levi stepped into the living room after grabbing his car keys. “Come here, Annie.”

Annie pushed herself off of the couch, and the two of them stepped into the foyer.

“Listen to me,” Levi frowned. “I’m not worried about the paparazzi outside. They know better than to step on my property, so just let them take their shitty pictures from across the street. I don’t know where Connie is, but if he’s watching any news channel, then he knows Y/N’s here. He could show up. If that happens, there’s a gun in the storage closet. There are cameras outside as well, so you can see whoever’s walking around my house using the tablet in the living room. Keep the doors and windows locked.”

“Okay,” Annie nodded. “Anything else?”

“Reiner’s on his way,” Levi’s eyes darted away from Annie’s for a moment. “I don’t know if I can trust him, but he’s been calling my phone all morning. He was going to show up here anyway, so I’m hoping he can help you watch and protect her, but . . . keep an eye on him too, alright?”

“Wait, if you don’t trust him, then why would you let him come over-”

“I don’t trust anyone. Not entirely. But in this shitty situation, I don’t have much of a choice. You and him are my best bets. Mainly just you, but I don’t like the idea of you being here by yourself either. I trust him enough, okay? But still . . . watch him. You can’t ever be too goddamn cautious.” Levi unlocked one of the double doors. “I’ll call if anything happens.”

“Okay,” Annie said.

When Levi opened his front door, bright lights from invasive cameras flashed repeatedly. News reporters and paparazzi screamed his name. He shut the door behind him, which muffled the chaos outside. Annie locked it with a sigh, grateful for the silence.

The cold surface of the front door soothed her worries a little when she leaned her head against it.

She wasn’t used to dealing with stuff like this. 

When it came to protecting others as a women’s rights advocate, her work usually revolved around starting protests. Creating petitions. Hosting fundraisers. Telling misogynistic men to go to hell. 

As a stunt double, she’d fill in for celebrities during action films, and she had incredible skill when it came to parkour and martial arts, but beyond that, she wasn’t involved in celebrity scandals or murder tales happening in real life. 

Along with that, she barely knew you. 

You both spent time together, going out to dinner, grabbing drinks, or playing cards at Levi’s house, but it was never alone. It was always with the others: Mikasa, Sasha, Reiner, and occasionally, Levi. 

She didn’t mind watching over you. It was the right thing to do. 

But . . . if Connie came through Levi’s door with a weapon, would she put her life on the line for yours? 

Her life?

Annie touched the lock on the door. 

Who could blame her for wanting to leave? For not wanting to be your security guard and risk her own life?

She started to unlock the door, started to reach for her phone to call Levi and tell him that she couldn’t do it — but she didn’t.

She took her hand off of the lock.

If she left you alone and something happened, especially at the hands of your crazy, murderous husband, she would never forgive herself for leaving a defenseless woman behind with nothing but a gun you didn’t know how to fire.

Annie sighed once again. Taking the hair-grip off of her wrist, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail.

How likely was it for Connie to show up, anyway? With the cops looking for him and several potential witnesses with cameras and microphones outside, it was highly unlikely. 

Not to mention, it was Levi Ackerman’s house.

And Levi was truly a dangerous man.

“You can leave.”

Annie was startled by the sound of your voice, but the calm woman kept her composure. 

Slowly, you walked into the foyer, your hands in the pockets of your sweatpants. You coughed dryly. While you weren’t actively contagious or dying, you were still under the weather — someone who should be in bed, resting and recovering.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine,” You gave Annie as much of a smile as you could muster, which amounted to a half-hearted grin. 

One that — despite barely knowing you — she could see right through.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie said, stepping toward you and away from the door. “Come on, you should be in bed. Levi didn’t wash those sheets for nothing.”

Pressing a warm, comforting hand against your back, Annie started to guide you in the direction of the guest room, but before you both could make it far, frantic knocking occurred at the front door.

Based on the way the noise from outside picked up, along with the flickering white camera lights peeking through the curtained windows, Annie gathered that it must have been Reiner.

Even so, she ran to grab the tablet off of the living room coffee table first, and when she opened the camera footage, she saw a worried, kind-looking man impatiently waiting for the door to open, trying his hardest to avoid the cameras snapping rapidly from a distance.

Annie opened the door and practically pulled the man inside by his forest green jacket before shutting the door back and locking it. 

“Reiner,” you called out, and those gentle eyes of his locked with yours.

“Oh my god,” he sighed with relief. Blinking, a tear fell. 

Reiner walked over and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a comforting hug you so desperately needed.

The tall, gentle man rubbed your back soothingly, and you exhaled. Only then did you realize you were holding your breath.

“I couldn’t see you in the hospital,” Reiner leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “I tried, but Connie was in the lobby. Wasn’t sure you’d wanna see me anyway, but I had to see you now. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m sorry for your losses, Y/N. Both Armin and your baby.” 

“Reiner . . . you should leave Hollywood as quickly as you can.” 

“I’m not leaving without you-”

“Stop. Yes, you are.” Pulling away from him, you looked into his eyes with a glassy gaze. “Connie shot Eren and killed . . . Armin because of their affiliation with me. He’s gone fucking crazy and you need to leave. I need to find Jean and tell him to leave too, or not to come back if he’s already gone. I-I haven’t seen him lately. Levi should go as well. Everyone should, even Annie and Sasha and-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie interrupted, folding her arms across her chest. “Let's say we all move to Maine or Rhode Island, and for a while, we’re safe. Then what? We change our appearances and identities? Hide for the rest of our lives?”

“She’s right,” Reiner looked over at Annie, then stared back into your eyes. “Connie left you alive. Make him regret it.”

Several hours had passed.

Sitting at the breakfast nook in Levi’s kitchen, you couldn’t help but think about the good memory, a fleeting moment of happiness, that had occurred around this table, long ago. Drinking and playing cards with the others while Levi cooked steak a short distance away. 

Even he had managed to smile that day. 

Now, on this horrific day, Reiner was making homemade baked potato soup for dinner — his mother’s recipe. He knew how much you loved her cooking. A recipe for disaster, she called it, and meant it literally. 

“Whenever I was sick or feeling down, mom would make this for me,” Reiner said softly as he chopped up some potatoes. 

While Reiner cooked, Annie got up from her spot in the booth-like breakfast nook, turning around a bit as she opened the blinds, peeking out of the window.

“Everyone’s still out there,” she announced. “I think there are more reporters now, actually.” 

“My fault,” Reiner said, tossing a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “The world knows I’m here now, too. Not to mention they know Levi left and will return. They probably plan to bombard him on his way in.”

You had no idea what time it was, but nighttime had arrived, and Levi hadn’t called. 

It was odd, to say the least.

“I hope Levi’s alright,” you mumbled. 

Folding your arms on the table, you rested your head on them as if to hide and avoid being seen.

“I’m sure he’s just busy. He said he’d call if something happens, so I’d say him not calling is a good thing.” Annie closed the blinds and sat back down. Reaching out, she touched your hand. “How are you feeling?”

‘I feel like Eren’s going to die and Levi’s next. Then Connie will pick us all off one by one because no one is taking me seriously when I say everyone should leave California. But I also don’t give a damn. I just want to die so I can see Armin again,’ you thought. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just worried.”

Suddenly, the tablet — which Annie had brought into the kitchen, not wanting to be far away from it — dinged, alerting everyone of detected motion around Levi’s front door.

Someone was right outside.

The distant, invasive shouts coming from the reporters and paparazzi camping out on the street had increased in volume, along with the flickering lights, which shone through the blinds.

“Must be Levi,” Reiner grabbed the tablet off of the kitchen island to double-check, but as he did so, the person outside knocked on the door. 

Levi wouldn’t need to knock. 

He had a key.

“Who is it?” Furrowing your brows, you watched the man frown in confusion.

“It’s, uh . . . Jean,” Reiner faltered worriedly. “He looks terrible.”

Opening the front door yourself was an idiotic idea, one that resulted in blinding lights and overwhelming shouts of your name. You grabbed Jean’s wrist. He winced in pain.

Letting go wasn’t an option. With cameras both snapping pictures and recording live for the entire world to see, releasing Jean’s wrist would lead to speculation and rumors. 

Why did Y/N let go of his wrist so suddenly? Did Jean yank himself away from her? Were they secretly hooking up and she had forgotten that people were watching them, so Jean pulled himself away? Is wrist-grabbing a secret code? Why is Jean at Levi’s house to begin with? Are all of Y/N’s ex-partners in on something? Did they . . .

You had no choice but to pull Jean inside and shut the front door behind him.

If there was any doubt that you might have been inside Levi’s house before, well, you gave the world confirmation just now. 

Looking up at the tall man, you had opened your mouth to speak — to ask him what he was doing here. Where he had been. Why he flinched when you grabbed ahold of his wrist. But at the sight of him, your jaw simply hung open in pure horror. 

Eren’s sudden disappearance upon hearing about your hospital stay had abruptly ended the Eldian Devils tour, but Jean Kirstein hadn’t been by his side during the last few shows before then. Every promo picture and trending Twitter video showed Eren on stage rocking all by himself under the guise that Jean was “sick” and unable to perform. In reality, Connie’s Silent Men just weren’t careful during their routine beatings and had given him injuries that no amount of makeup could fix, so they kept him out of the spotlight. 

However, Jean’s whereabouts were unknown even after Eren ended the tour, and no one truly cared.

No one knew that they should have cared.

Slowly, your trembling hand covered your mouth. It was a subconscious act. A result of shock.

“Jean,” Reiner called out, stepping into the foyer. “What the hell happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

Jean could hear the man speaking, but his bloodshot eyes only stared into your sad ones, not bothering to look away. 

But your eyes did. 

You scanned his entire body — every bruise, every scar.

Much like Eren was when he visited you in the hospital, Jean was thinner too. Hollow cheeks right underneath his dark undereye circles. His long-sleeved, dark blue shirt was loose around his upper body. His black jeans were baggier. While certain visible parts of his pale body were black and blue with old bruises or bright red from fresh scars, it was nothing compared to his hands.

Jean cherished his hands more than anything. 

He cherished them more than any other body part. More than his fans. More than money. 

Anyone could say what they wanted about him, that he was a homewrecker, attention seeker, living in Eren’s shadow — it didn’t matter. As long as he was acknowledged as a musician.

Playing instruments and making music was what made Jean Kirstein Jean Kirstein. He needed to stroke the keys of his piano, write lyrics, or layer chords just as much as he needed to eat and breathe. Connie knew that. 

He knew that making music meant everything to his former best friend.

“Connie hurt you, didn’t he?” You cupped Jean’s injured, bandaged-wrapped hands with your own, eyeing his scratched fingers that were formerly twisted. Someone must have given him medical attention.

“Not directly,” Jean coughed dryly. He hadn’t spoken in a long time. “His men did. Per fucking usual.”

“What happened?” Your eyes ran across his ruined skin. “Tell me everything.”

You, Annie, and Jean were all sitting at the breakfast nook while Reiner continued to make his soup over the stove, ensuring that there was enough for Jean to have some as well, and Levi, once he returned.

Jean eyed the cup of water sitting on the table in front of him. The droplets of condensation slipped off of the cool glass and pooled around the circular bottom, spilling over onto the coaster. 

He wanted to drink the refreshing water you kindly made him, but with the state his hands were in, he was certain he’d drop it. And he didn’t want to ask for a straw. He didn’t want to ask anyone for anything.

No one had ever given a damn about him before, especially you. Not that he could have blamed you.

Jean spoke of the inhumane treatment that Connie had put him and Eren through during their last-minute tour. As he described the abuse — a look of anger, sadness, and disappointment on your face in the form of a clenched jaw, furrowed brows, and glassy eyes — it had confirmed one thing: you had no idea what was happening to him and Eren. And he was relieved. 

“I was living in his house . . . I married him . . . and I didn’t know that he was still treating you guys that way. I should’ve known. I don’t why I just assumed he’d stop.” Your hands started to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Jean.”

“What happened after you couldn’t perform anymore?” Annie asked plainly. “Where’d you go?”

“I was being punished,” Jean smiled sadly in disbelief. “Those assholes blew my pupil, so I couldn’t go on stage or be seen in public, and the company had lost a lot of money trying to make up for my absence — refunding people who bought meet-and-greet passes to see me — but it wasn’t my fault. But they locked me in the recording studio anyway and fucked up my hands so I . . . couldn’t play anything. Kept me locked in there for weeks until now.” 

You shuddered. 

“Jesus,” Reiner exhaustedly rubbed his eyes with his hand. His grip on the stirring spoon tightened. “That’s sick, Jean. I’m so sorry. We had no idea.” “How’d you get out? Did they let you go? Have you seen Connie today?”

Jean shook his head, answering your last question first. 

“I haven’t seen him. Uh . . . Levi found me. I guess he was the only one who noticed I was missing.” Jean’s eyes glistened with sadness. Being forgotten hurt more than his festering wounds.

“Anyway, he got me out of there, fixed up my hands, stuck me in a car with a driver, and told me to come here. He told me what happened too. I’m sorry for your loss, Y/N. Armin was a good person, far as I know. He deserved to live a long life.” 

Your eyes darted down to your lap. Your throat was dry — a lump had formed in it that was practically painful and felt as if it strained your neck. It wouldn’t go away. Right now, you needed the glass of water sitting on the table just as much as Jean did.

“Levi said he was going to the airport to get Carla, then to the hospital,” Annie blinked, her face emotionless as she spoke plainly. “You’re saying he also stopped at CS Records, got past Connie’s security, and freed you? That doesn’t seem right.”

“I agree.” Reiner pulled down several bowls from the cabinet across from the stove. His tone, however, wasn’t exactly accusatory but filled with curiosity. “How’d he know where to find you in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Jean shrugged. “But think about it, big guy. Levi and Connie used to be pretty close. There was a time when CS Records was nothing more than the band, Connie, and Levi all working from a cheap rented-out studio. In a way, Connie owes a lot of his success to Levi, I guess.”

“So Levi pretty much knows how Connie thinks,” Annie said.

“Yeah. Got that right.”

Hot baked potato soup was poured into four white, glass bowls. Reiner served everyone. When he made his way over to Jean, the bowl clinked gently as he sat it down on the table in front of the injured man. Discreetly, he put a straw in Jean’s drink and moved the glass cup closer toward him.

Jean looked at him with his light-brown eyes, casting a grateful glance as a silent thank you.

Reiner gave him a nod. 

Jean watched as the blonde-haired man whispered something into your ear, and then motioned for Annie to grab her soup and follow him out of the kitchen.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jean watched you move from one side of the breakfast nook and scoot around the booth until you were sitting right beside him.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you eat,” you grabbed his spoon, scooping up a bit of soup with a tiny potato chuck in it.

‘Oh, I get it,’ Jean thought. ‘Annie and Reiner must’ve left so I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed about being spoon-fed like a baby. This fucking sucks.’

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said caringly as if reading his thoughts. “We all need a little extra help sometimes.”

When you raised the spoon to his mouth, Jean hesitated. 

“Come on,” your encouraging words were followed by you darting the spoon toward his lips a bit more. 

Finally, he took a bite.

“I understand how you feel,” You said, lowering the spoon back into the bowl of soup. “Levi had to help me bathe. Scrubbed me down because I couldn’t do it myself. Like I said, sometimes people just need a little more help.”

A tiny wave of relief washed over Jean. Your words helped.

Silently, you fed Jean another bite, then several more.

“Your own soup is gonna get cold,” Jean nodded in the direction of your steaming, awaiting bowl across the table. 

“There’s a microwave here,” you said bluntly. 

“Alright, smartass,” with a teasing tone, Jean smiled a bit. 

“Excuse me?” You said with both shock and playfulness. “Alright, fine. Since you wanna call me that . . .”

Your words trailed off into a curious silence that piqued Jean’s interest. Scooping up another spoonful of soup, you guided it towards Jean’s mouth. This time around, you decided to coo and sing at him.

“Here comes the airplane, open wide! You can do it!” 

“Y/N, I swear on my mother that I will bite your hand. I can’t fight you right now, but I’ll chew the hell out of your finger.”

Suddenly, you laughed. 

It was that big, beautiful laugh that no one had heard in what felt like a lifetime — the wholehearted chuckle that your nauseating media-training classes had driven out of you. 

The version of yourself that used to experience such joy had died a long time ago — suffocated to death by the pressure and weight of fame, torturous love, and neverending misery. 

To hear it again was a blessing. 

You didn’t know if your soul allowed for such boisterous laughter anymore. 

And for Jean, witnessing such a sight made him feel like he was falling in love all over again. 

The corners of his mouth twitched. He was heartbroken and joyous at the same time. He wanted to cry and laugh. 

The sound of your laughter had attracted Reiner, who stood in the archway of the kitchen, grinning. He was happy to hear your laugh again as well, even if his heart did sting a bit from jealousy.

After all, he wasn’t the one who caused it. 

“Sounds like someone’s cheered up a bit,” Reiner said softly. 

“Tell . . . tell Reiner what you said,” you huffed out, attempting to control your laughter as you gently tapped Jean’s arm. By now, your cheeks were hurting. It was a beautiful feeling.

“I think you’re the only person who would find that funny, Y/N.” Jean grinned, rolling his eyes playfully. Memories of you — the old you — laughing at the smallest, most insignificant things flashed in Jean’s mind. 

Witnessing the look of disgust and sadness on Eren’s face when he accidentally dipped his chicken finger in cocktail sauce instead of ketchup and ate it made you nearly do a spit-take with your water one day during your brief time touring with Eldian Devils long ago. 

Coming across a mediocre meme online had you clenching your stomach and finding the nearest person to show. 

You were just that sort of person. Or, at least, you used to be.

If human beings had true individual purposes and Jean’s was to make music, then yours was to laugh.

“Y/N, can we talk for a sec?”

Reiner’s sudden serious tone snapped Jean out of his pleasant thoughts. 

The last few huffs of laughter died out, your smile faded away, and you nodded. 

Scooting out of the booth, you followed Reiner — grabbing your soup and bringing it along with you.

From what you knew about Levi, he wouldn’t be too pleased with you eating such an easily spillable meal on his couch, but Reiner didn’t want to chat with you in the formal dining room. It would have been too odd, he figured.

“I know now isn’t the right time, but maybe when things are . . . better,” Reiner paused, “I was hoping we could go out for dinner and talk about everything.”

“By everything, do you mean us?” You sat the bowl of soup down on the coffee table. You had lost your appetite again. “It might not be the conversation you’re hoping for, Reiner.” “I know. I just want to know what happened. How did you go from loving me to marrying Connie? Did he really get in your head that much, or did you really love him?” 

Reiner’s words carried a harsher, heavier tone than he had intended. And when he was met with silence as a response, your eyes fixated on the unlit fireplace, Reiner sighed softly.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up right now. It’s selfish.”

“It’s fine.” Turning to look at him, you tried your best to smile as a way of easing the tension. “I mean it, it’s fine. You deserve an answer.”

“You don’t have to give it to me right now, though. I can wait.”

Reiner was always that type of person — the kind-hearted lover. The savior of some sort. He was even the perfect ex, oddly enough. 

“I do love you, Reiner,” you said softly, yet sternly. “Just like I told Eren; I love all of you. I thought I didn’t. Tried to convince myself that I kinda hated all of you, but I realized that wasn’t true.”

“What made you realize that?”

Your eyes flickered down to your shoes. A smile of regret flashed across your exhausted face. “When I successfully pushed everyone away and forced myself into a loveless marriage. When I almost died. When I lost my . . . kid. I wanted someone to be there — You, Levi, Eren, Jean . . . Armin — I just needed all of you. But I can’t have all of you.”  

“I think . . .” Reiner paused, his eyes squinting a bit as he thought about his words carefully before uttering them. “I think that, even so, you loved Armin the most. We were all fools to think otherwise. I saw the way you touched him . . . hugged him the longest the night you told all of us to leave you alone. . . kinda pieced it together then. He was your soulmate.”

Soulmate.

What a horrific word.

The boy you had grown up with, the dandelion-plucking, hardworking, beautiful blonde-haired baker from New York — the one with the scarred hands and a sweet smile, who smelt of cinnamon and enjoyed reading. 

He was the other half of your soul, it would seem.

He was the human part.

And he was gone.

He appeared in your imagination bittersweetly. Standing in the high grass underneath a darkening evening sky was Armin, seven years old with a big head and even bigger blue eyes, holding his tiny hands out so the nearby fireflies would land on his skin.

The second grader wasn’t interested in catching them in a jar to keep as a pet like you were. 

Then, Armin was a teenager, grabbing your wrist and taking you to the breathtaking rooftop of an isolated building to look at the stars, rambling on and on about his dreams, which were rather grand for a poor person.

Lastly, Armin was an adult. He rolled cinnamon rolls. He flipped burgers. He poured concrete. He kissed you. He loved you. He married you. And he waited for you to come back to him.

And he was gone.

Your one true love was dead.

It took Reiner’s large hands gripping your shoulders to snap you out of your overwhelming memories, and only then did you realize that tears were pouring from your eyes, your breathing unsteady as heartbroken sobs fell from between your lips. During such a moment, you weren’t in control of your own body.

Armin was. 

The thoughts of him were wreaking havoc.

The burning feeling in your chest — you couldn’t take in enough air. Couldn’t catch your breath. 

You thought about his look of fear when the bullet from Connie’s gun pierced him.

Annie appeared at your side suddenly, kneeling next to your leg. Her warm hands held onto your trembling ones. She was speaking, but you couldn’t hear what she said. 

You thought about the blood pouring out of Armin’s body.

Screaming sobs made Jean’s ears ring as he rushed into the living room. Drool fell from the corners of your mouth.

You thought about how scared and lonely Armin must have felt, dying on that operating table as a result of your mistakes. 

You killed him! First, you killed his soul by breaking his heart, and then, your chaos involving Connie led to his death. It was all your fault. You might as well should have been the one holding the gun, firing it. 

‘It’s all my fault, all my fault, all my fault,’ you thought. ‘Armin’s gone. Never coming back.’

Tears blurred your vision. 

“What the fuck did you do, Reiner?” Jean shouted above your sobs. “She was fucking laughing a minute ago, and now she’s-”

“I didn’t do anything,” Reiner argued back, but his words were riddled with guilt. “We were just talking and she started crying. What do we do, Annie?”

“How should I know?” Annie frowned, trying to steady your violently shaky hands. She felt just as guilty as Reiner. She was supposed to know. 

One of the front double doors suddenly opened and slammed shut. Jean whipped his head around, startled, and walked into the foyer to see a pissed-off Levi Ackerman.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Jean could barely hear him over the sound of your cries, but he knew that the man was asking the most obvious question. Without waiting for an answer, Levi furrowed his dark brows, gritting his teeth as he swore, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown.

He took off his jacket and tossed his keys somewhere. 

Three people whom he trusted to look after you had failed. You were on the verge of a mental breakdown, and here they were, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights when he stepped into his living room. 

“Move,” he ordered Reiner, who pointlessly rubbed soothing circles onto your back.

As much as Reiner wished he could be the one to comfort you, to soothe your sobs and cries, he defeatedly rose from the couch and let Levi take his place.

Levi put one of his legs behind you, stretching it out over the couch cushions. With his entire body facing your side, he reached up, grabbed your shoulder, and slowly, cautiously, pulled you toward his chest. Once your cheek hit his heart, he started to ease back, laying down on the sofa with your body in between his legs and your head on his chest.

Annie grabbed your legs and put them up on the sofa.

Levi’s hands soothingly rubbed your shoulder. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. I got you.”

He didn’t bother with shushing you or telling you that everything would be okay — pointless and meaning acts that provided little comfort. 

He couldn’t promise that everything would be alright.

But he knew that you were hurting. 

And he wasn’t going to let you go through it alone.

“I got you.”

—

It was between midnight and one A.M. when Levi’s eyes lazily fluttered, the click of his lids opening his sharp eyes to reveal a blurry, white, high ceiling amongst the darkness. 

His muscles were sore. As he tried to shift around, he felt the weight of something preventing him from moving.

It was you, fast asleep on top of him. 

He was still on the living room couch, still dressed in his day clothes. 

‘I must’ve fallen asleep too,’ he thought.

Last he could remember, you were starting to calm down, and Reiner tossed a blanket over you. 

Then, the three useless caregivers went home. 

Reiner invited Jean to crash at his place, seeing as the musician could barely use his hands, and Reiner had his own security in light of Connie’s chaos as of late.

A small sigh fell from Levi’s chapped lips, his throat as dry as the desserts he once visited during his time in the military.

He was dehydrated thanks to all the running around he did yesterday, forgetting to drink a sip of water, and yet, he had to pee badly enough to have had a toilet appear in his dream.  His bladder ached from fullness, but he didn’t want to disturb you. 

Levi glanced down at your head pressed against his stomach, more so the outline of it due to the darkness, the moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains of his big living room windows as his only source of light, and he smiled softly. While watching you, he studied your rhythmic breathing — the easy rise and fall of your shoulders.

However, as all good things must come to an end, Levi’s phone started to ring. 

Your eyes fluttered open, a sleepy frown gracing your face. The absence of your warmth as you sat up made Levi frown as well.

Just like that, Levi had pointlessly risked receiving damage to his bladder, because whoever his midnight caller was had disturbed you anyway.

That’s when it hit him.

If someone was calling him at such an ungodly hour, it couldn’t have been good news.

His stomach dropped at the realization, his phone ringing, screaming to be answered, and meanwhile, you were staring at him with wide, worried eyes that held both exhaustion and dreadful anticipation. 

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Levi spoke with an unusual hoarseness, his voice low and raspy from both waking up and unquenched thirst.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. His stomach dropped when he saw the caller ID. It was Carla.

“Who is it?” You asked.

Levi didn’t answer. He didn’t let his internal worry be reflected upon his face, either. With an expression as blank as a new sheet of paper, he tapped his screen and answered the call.

“Hello?” He gave a small cough.

You could hear Carla speaking, but you couldn’t make out the muffled words coming from Levi’s phone, which he pressed against his ear with a firm hand. His hands weren’t trembling like yours. 

Despite the quietness, it was impossible to hear Eren’s mother talk to Levi thanks to the thumbing of your heart, which echoed in your ears. 

Levi’s face suddenly paled in color.

“We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

“You need to get dressed, Y/N.” He rubbed the lower half of his face with his hand.

“Why?” A tear rolled down your cheek. Your question hadn’t yet been answered, but your soul knew. “What’s wrong?”

Levi’s eyes wouldn’t meet yours. He had no idea how to process what Carla just told him. 

The woman who spoke to him moments ago with a croaking voice and devastating news had told him that the boy he had known for years — the aggressive kid with a kind heart, the one whose family adopted his cousin, the boy who cried on his shoulder when Marco died and Connie went to prison, the person who gave him an insanely fancy mop for his birthday and would always unintentionally mimic him when they were younger, simply wanting to be like him — he was dying.

The doctors estimated that he only had two more hours to live.

“We need to go see Eren.”

The implication was obvious, just as obvious as the fact that Levi was holding back his tears.

Right now, you wanted to find the gun you knew Levi kept somewhere, stick the barrel into your mouth, and meet Eren in the afterlife — greet him once he arrived.

By now, you were out of tears. 

All worn out and dried up inside from mourning one love, and your body could no longer process how to grieve another. 

Numbness ran through your veins. Settled underneath your cold skin. Buried itself into your aching bones. 

The tiny part of your brain that could still function right now presented a horrific, intrusive thought, that perhaps you simply didn’t cry for Eren because you planned on meeting him in Heaven or Hell or another life or wherever your souls went after death soon enough. 

And you’d see Armin too.

All three of you, free from pain.

Maybe you would see your mother again, or meet Eren’s old friend, Marco.

Suddenly, a heartbroken smile appeared across your face.

It was brief, but Levi saw it, and it shook him to his core.

Getting off of the couch, you went into the guest room and got dressed. Your dragging footsteps echoed down the dark hallway.

—

“Y/N! Please give us an autograph, please!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Turn this way!”

“Y/N, is it true that you are the reason Eren Yeager is in the hospital right now? Did you have a hand in the shooting?”

“Y/N, what are your thoughts on being called Carrie White? Is it true you’re going to star in Hander Tapper’s new horror film inspired by your photos? Y/N, please answer!”

Fans and paparazzi alike crowded the brightly lit hallways of the hospital. Pests, they were. Security guards and local police officers held them back like bug exterminators, letting you and Levi squeeze through into the blocked-off, spacious sage green and brown waiting room where a teary-eyed Carla Yeager sobbed into her hands.

She was sitting in a wheelchair, her husband, Grisha, gripping the handlebars as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“She fainted,” Grisha croaked out. 

Levi approached them first. 

Crouching down, he hugged the unconsolable woman, rubbing her back gently. 

You went for Grisha, hugging him with a face as blank as a blind man, deprived of any and all emotion. 

Only then did you realize that there were other people in the waiting room. 

You recognized some of them as distant relatives of Eren’s family that you had once met. Aunts. Cousins. Even the dear uncle he was named after. He sat in a chair tucked away in the corner, tear-soaked face hidden behind his hands as he thought about the times he carried his nephew on his back and spun him around.

Jean was there too, fixated on his phone. He pressed a button, put his device against his ear, and mumbled into it. From where you stood, you could only make out a few words.

“Mikasa . . . emergency . . . Eren . . . call me back . . .”

“Go see him,” Grisha sniffled, pulling away from the hug.

Levi appeared at your side. Grisha’s sad eyes darted in his direction. 

“H-He shot my baby boy . . .” blinking rapidly, tears streamed down Grisha’s red-stained cheeks even harder, soaking the collar of his white ironed shirt. “That’s my baby boy.”

Suddenly, a freckle-faced woman with big, black, curly hair walked over and wrapped her arm around Grisha.

Her frown lines were rather deep, the crinkles by her eyes much more detailed than they should have been, for her youthful, light brown eyes had shown that she was younger than she appeared to be.

Misery had aged her.

Call it a gut feeling, write it off as a lucky guess, but somehow, you knew that you were staring at Marco’s mother.

Levi’s calloused fingertips graced your wrist as he wrapped his hand around it. 

“Come on,” he said softly.

Two slow footsteps in the direction of the nearest nurse were interrupted by the miserable woman’s voice. 

“Wait,” Marco’s mother called out. 

Leaving Grisha’s side, she approached you and Levi.

“Seeing Eren in such a state will be traumatic,” she warned, her voice raspy. “Sometimes we think seeing someone before or after they pass is the best choice, but consider that this will be the last time you see him alive, and determine whether or not you want that image in your head. Please think about it.”

She spoke from experience. The trembling weary in her voice was a telltale sign. 

“We have to say goodbye,” you spoke plainly. 

“He has a tube down his throat, wires connected to him, machines hooked to almost every part of his body . . . I beg you to think about this.”

“I understand,” you replied with as much compassion as you could muster, but Eren could pass away at any minute. This conversation was a waste of precious time. “I want to see him anyway.”

The woman nodded sadly.

After all, you had seen Eren get shot. Witness the blood pour out of him. Saw him fight to stay alive. 

You had already witnessed Eren in a state that would traumatize you forever.

After approaching the awaiting nurse, you and Levi were escorted down the twisty hallways. This part of the hospital was rather different. 

The white walls were decorated with stained glass of angels, pinned-up flyers containing advertisements regarding churches and grief counselors, and other religious symbols of the afterlife.

It was as if the hospital was declaring Eren to be deceased while his heart was still beating.

Levi held your hand.

Only then, feeling his grasp, had you realized that you were trembling again. 

But at least you weren’t alone.

The nurse slowed her footsteps as she guided you both to a doorless room. The dark-skinned woman smiled sympathetically and walked away.

Marco’s mother spoke with honesty. 

Eren was strung up like a puppet. It was a struggle to walk to his bedside, cords and wires decorating the floor and proposing a tripping hazard to anyone who wasn’t careful, but the nurses tending to the beeping machines walked over them with expertise. 

However, the miserable woman didn’t detail that the hardest part about seeing Eren like that wasn’t the tube down his throat. It wasn’t the wires hooked to his body and the machines, or the constant beeping that you didn’t know the meaning behind and were too afraid to ask.

It was the look on his face.

His eyes weren’t open of course. His skin was pale. Dark circles settled under his eyes. Cheeks were hollow, as he was skinnier than he ever should have been.

Truth be told, he was casket-ready. Physically, at least.

His face told a different story.

Maybe it was your imagination. Maybe it was the natural state of his face. You wouldn’t know.

But his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was stuck in between anger and fear — pissed off at the fact that he was dying and couldn’t do anything about it, or, perhaps, terrified of what would await him after death.

‘He’s a fighter,’ you thought.

If only one could live if their will was strong enough. If only the universe worked that way.

Leaning down, you pressed your soft lips against his forehead. 

If he was awake, he would have smiled. Affection from you had always reduced the rowdy rockstar into a shy, blushing mess.

Pulling away from Eren, you noticed little droplets on his face. 

You were crying; your tears fell from your eyes and splattered onto his skin.

Gently, with a trembling hand, you wiped it off. 

“Sorry,” you whispered to him.

You turned around to face Levi, but he was staring down at his hand, which held Eren’s, positioned carefully so as to not touch his pulse oximeter.

“I’m sorry, Eren,” Levi mumbled weakly. “I failed you.”

You took a careful step back. It was obvious that Levi had the courage to say goodbye first. 

He took your former spot, leaning down to speak to the dying man, uncertain whether or not he could hear him. It didn’t matter. 

He said what needed to be spoken.

“I was supposed to protect you from all this.” A tear rolled down Levi’s cheek. He placed his hand on Eren’s head. “You needed me to be there for you, and I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me for it. You’re too damn young to-” 

Levi couldn’t continue. 

He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. 

Without casting a glance your way, Levi stroked his thumb over Eren’s forehead and left the room.

It was your turn to speak. The lump forming in your dry throat made it nearly impossible, every word requiring effort and great strain, but you had to do it. 

You had to say goodbye, a bittersweet opportunity you didn’t get with Armin.

You stood by Eren’s bedside, the machines beeping as the nurses walked from one side of the room to the other, and you leaned down.

“Eren, it’s Y/N. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here,” weakly, you sniffled. “Uh . . . everyone’s in the waiting room. You’re not alone, okay? So don’t be scared. We’re here. If I know one thing about you, it’s that you’re fighting like hell to stay alive, aren’t you? No one knows how to fight like you do. You even fought for me once, and I’ll always be grateful for that. Thank you for loving me. And I love you too, okay? So don’t ever doubt it. I’m still hoping that you’ll wake up, but . . . if anyone deserves to rest, it’s you. And . . . maybe I’ll see you soon, Eren.”

Once again, you kissed Eren’s forehead. 

When you left the room heavy with the aura of death, you didn’t return to the waiting room with the others.

Instead, you walked down a bright white hallway with a big medical cart in the middle of it, but deprived of fans and paparazzi, and stepped through the automatic see-through doors, exiting the hospital and walking into the darkness.

It wasn’t odd to see a person walking down the streets of Los Angeles wearing a hood. None of the late-night drivers knew that Hollywood’s biggest heartbreaker was the one teetering dangerously close to the road, walking along the curbs of the busy streets.

It took about two hours of walking through the city to reach your destination. Even among the honking cars, screeching tires, rumbling engines, and booming radios, you could still hear your phone ringing in your pocket. 

You pulled it out after a while.

Eleven missed calls from Levi.

Eight missed calls from Jean.

Darting your eyes down to the bottom of your notification screen, you had a handful of text messages from both of them, but you didn’t bother to read them.

Everyone was either looking for you or trying to tell you that Eren had died.

You put your phone back into your pocket.

Darting across a spacious road that wasn’t busy, orange streetlights as your source of light due to the absence of any headlights from nonexistent cars nearby, you cut through the abundance of trees — this particular foresty area was drastically different compared to the rest of the bustling city.

There, grass and leaves crunched under your feet as you made your way over to the faded green bridge, covered in vines, towering over a body of water.

It was a hidden location that Mikasa had often spoken of, quite different compared to the rest of L.A., but of course, the adventurous woman adored it. She’d often take you here for a quick lunch as a way to free you from the hustle and bustle of the suffocating city, if only for a meal’s worth of time. 

Truth be told, coming here wasn’t your intention. Your soul led you here; your body was along for the ride.

Or the walk, rather.

Approaching the middle of the isolated, raggedy bridge, you sat on the ledge and swung your feet across. 

‘What now?’ you thought. 

The cold water below flowed slowly. Your hands gripped the edge of the ledge. Your mind was split in half — part of you wanted to hang on for dear life, while the other half wanted you to push yourself off. 

It sounded so freeing. Death did. 

Maybe you’d see your mother and father again. Maybe you’d see Armin and Eren. Maybe . . .

Once again, your phone started to ring. 

Why you hadn’t muted it, you couldn’t be certain. 

And why you decided to pull it out now, you wouldn’t ever know. 

Maybe it was to get confirmation regarding Eren’s fate. Maybe a small part of you wanted Levi to talk you out of it. Perhaps, it was so if you did decide to make that body of water below you your official place of death, you would at least be able to die knowing you had spoken to Levi one last time. 

Why that mattered to you, you had no idea.

“Hello?” You said. 

You braced yourself for the heartbreaking news by looking at the water, thinking about how badly it would hurt to come in contact with it, but you were ready.

“Are you okay? Where the hell are you?” Levi rushed out over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” 

It seemed as if your decision was made: to not haunt Levi by making him aware of your impending demise. 

“Where are you, Y/N?” Levi insisted yet again. Even with an unsteady connection due to your shady location, you could hear the worry in his voice.

“Did you call me because he . . .” 

You couldn’t finish your question. You could only think about the water.

“No, I called you because I can’t fucking find you,” Levi replied. After a beat of silence, Levi continued to speak. “His condition has improved slightly. He’s still holding on. Must’ve been you.”

Miracles — what a stupid fucking concept. A cookie-cutter, mechanically human response to a pleasant aftermath of devastation.

One, specifically, you did not believe in. 

One person’s miracle was another person’s tragedy, more often. People would call it a miracle when someone survived a deadly car crash, even though they caused it, and the person they hit going 90 miles per hour was dead.

Your fans often claim that your music, your utter existence, somehow saved their life. That you were a miracle. But here you were, sitting on the ledge of a raggedy green bridge.

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

“Y/N, please tell me where you are.” 

Levi — with his serious, and yet increasingly worried tone — snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I’m fine, I swear-”

“Then why won’t you tell me where you are? Why wouldn’t you answer your phone?”

“I just wanted to be alone,” you lied — well, not entirely. It was the truth, as you did desire solitude. “I’m sorry.”

Right now, you figured that he and everyone else should have been worried about Eren. Not you. 

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

“Are you safe?”

The concern and utter fear in Levi’s voice had revealed one thing to you: he cared about you more than he had ever expressed with words.

Perhaps that was obvious. It should have been.

He tried to save you from Connie.

He banded together with your other lovers, but his intent was never clear. Was he trying to win your heart, or did he simply want you to be free?

He fucked you during that one drunken night. You carried his baby until you lost it. He took care of you like someone would care for a loved one.

But he never said he loved you.

What was Levi Ackerman fighting for?

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

The way he said those three words — not I love you, those were unspoken — but the way he asked if you were safe. He said it with love.

And, for now, that was enough.

“Not really,” you admitted. You could hear his breath stagger over the phone. “Can you come get me?”

“Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

The phone call ended. 

Not wanting Levi to know your exact whereabouts, you made your way to a nearby diner as quickly as you could before sending him the address.

Sitting on the curb waiting for him to arrive was rather odd. You were hungry. The smell of fresh coffee and buttery pancakes flooding from the 24-hour eatery made your stomach rumble. Desperately, you wanted to yank that door open and order three servings of whatever the old man behind the counter was cooking.

With your head down, and hood up, you looked and felt like a homeless person, not the glamorous celebrity who was currently on the television inside of the partially empty diner.

It was an entertainment news station displaying footage of you and Levi arriving at the hospital. Even though it was around four A.M., those nosy headline-seeking reporters wouldn’t give it a rest. 

But, then again, a famous rockstar was dying.

What happened between you, Connie, Eren, and Armin was the biggest news in the world right now. 

But, even with your face plastered on the television while you sat outside of the little restaurant, you realized that you were both. 

A homeless person and a glamorous, rich celebrity.

You’d have to purchase a home once again after selling your last one — assuming you still wanted to live. 

Levi’s familiar black vehicle pulled up in front of the diner much more quickly than you had expected.

You got into his car, and thankfully, he didn’t bombard you with thousands of questions.

Instead, you looked over at him as he started to pull off, and asked, “Is he still alive?”

“Yeah,” Levi replied, his eyes on the road. “The next twenty-four hours are crucial. He could go either way. But there’s still a chance he could pull through.”

“What changed?” You fidgeted with the string of your hoodie dangling across your chest, looking out the window. “How did he go from having only two hours to live to possibly being able to pull through?”

Levi didn’t respond immediately. It took him a moment.

“I don’t know, but I’m not optimistic.”

“What?” You whipped your head in his direction and looked at his side profile — his jawline sharp as he clenched and unclenched it. 

“Sometimes, a person’s condition improves before they die. It’s fucked up. It gives you false hope that the person will make it. It happens all the time.”

“I take it you’ve seen it happen to someone, hm?” 

Your accusation made Levi grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. 

“My mom. Cancer,” he answered dryly. “Anyway, I just wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s happening now, but who the hell knows? Those damn doctors surely act like they don’t.”

You didn’t respond. 

Neither you nor Levi said anything else during the drive back to his place.

The sky was an inspiring canvas painted with soft orange and blue colors as the sun started to rise. With a yawn, Levi arrived at his home, grimacing at the sight of a few lurking reporters and paparazzi still camping out around his place. 

There weren’t as many as before — several of them flocked to the hospital upon discovering Eren’s worsening condition and you and Levi’s presence there. 

“Wish I could run over these bastards,” Levi mumbled. “I wouldn’t mind going to prison for that. I’ll smile in my mugshot. I don’t care.”

A soft laugh escaped you. 

Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of it. 

—

The rest of that day was a challenging blur. 

Trying to eat. Trying to sleep. Left to wonder. Left to wait.

Not knowing if Eren would live or die.

Not knowing if you would live or die.

Eventually, one day led to another, and that day led to the next. And the next.

You’d eat breakfast — something quick. Something easy. Usually, eggs or oatmeal prepared by Levi. Then, you’d visit Eren at the hospital. Say a few words.

At one point, a young nurse asked you to take a picture with her. It was fine, though. You were used to holding back tears and faking a smile.

Even though Eren had survived beyond what the doctors had twice predicted, he was still in a coma. He still wasn’t out of the woods.

After visiting Eren, the rest of your day would typically amount to trying to divorce a missing person, arranging Armin’s funeral with Levi, and being involved in the ongoing investigation into what happened that night with Connie. 

He was still nowhere to be found.

But he was working — using his money to work in favors from a distance.

You might have revealed to the public that he was behind the shooting, sure, but the billionaire used his power to once again influence the justice system.

And just like that, the finest investigators in L.A. had millions of dollars, and there wasn’t any surveillance camera footage of his car on the road that night. 

When you watched the police department hop on live television and indirectly detail how Connie Springer couldn’t have been involved, you had expected all of it to fall back on you.

“He’s going to put the blame on me, isn’t he?” You asked Levi with a face full of tears.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

Levi’s words were comforting, but did they truly have meaning? Was he planning on influencing the justice system with millions of dollars as well? After all, he hadn’t achieved billionaire status like Connie had. Plus — he was unemployed from the very job that made him wealthy. Just how much money did he have in that savings account of his? Did it have anything to do with investing? Did he have other, secret ways of making money?

—

Going out in public was dangerous if Connie wasn’t behind bars, but you’ll be damned if let fear force you into missing Armin’s funeral.

It was a quaint ceremony — it had to be that way, not only because Armin wouldn’t want anything drastic, but because it was the only way to remain hidden from paparazzi and reporters who wouldn’t mind crashing a heartbreaking ceremony for a few pictures.

The majority of the people who showed up amounted to coworkers. It made sense. He was always working, and in a twisted way, his fellow waiters, construction men, and other peers from his previous jobs were his family.

There was nothing — nothing — quite like seeing them lower Armin’s casket into the ground.

It was a sight that took the strength out of your legs, frying your brain until simple functions like walking were a challenge.

It should have been Connie in there. That’s what you thought. That’s what you wished.

Especially when you decided to open the pile of letters collecting dust on your nightstand a few days later.

“How the fuck can he do this to me? How the fuck is this possible?” Tossing down a stack of paper on the desk in Levi’s dark home office — where he sat behind it, typing away on his computer before you stormed in — you continued to both shout and cry.

You were so sick of crying. Tired of tears. 

With brows furrowed in confusion, Levi picked up the letters that were previously folded three ways, indicating that they came in envelopes that had arrived in the mail.  

It made sense.

The entire world knew that your current residence was with Levi. 

Including him.

Unable to sit in any of the black chairs in front of his desk due to your horrific anxiety, you slowly paced back and forth as he read the letters from the bank and collection agencies. 

In short, you were broke, just as poor as you once were when you arrived in Los Angeles as a former baker from New York who had to split sandwiches to survive. 

Connie naturally owned everything that belonged to his artists. Blame the shitty contracts.

But, in your case, you married the bastard. He had his hand in everything tied to your finances. Tied to you. 

And he took it all away.

“Y/N-”

“It’s my fault.” You cut Levi off. Abruptly, you stopped pacing. “I know, okay? I don’t . . . don’t need to hear you say it. I didn’t protect my finances from Connie when we got married, I just . . .”

“You just thought you were the one who had him trapped, not the other way around.” Levi put down the letters. His face was unreadable. “We need to find out if these letters are even real.”

“It’s real,” you said with a sniffle. “I called every fucking number they listed. It’s real.”

“We should’ve seen this coming,” Levi paused. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. 

For someone who always claimed to only want wealthy people associated with his name, Connie certainly didn’t mind leaving his enemies to rot in poverty.  

A deep, shaky breath escaped from between your lips. Slowly, you sat down in one of Levi’s chairs as you said, “It’s my karma, right? For marrying him for wealth . . . tricking him with a baby that wasn’t his . . .”

“Does he know?”

Levi’s eyes darted away from yours. Aside from when he cared for you that night after Armin and Eren were shot and you confessed a truth he already knew, neither one of you talked about the fact that you once carried his baby. 

“Uh,” you sniffled once again, shifting in your seat. “I don’t know if he knows the baby wasn’t his. If he knew it was yours, he might-”

Levi interrupted you, but not with words. 

It was with a dry, yet soft, laugh.

“Shoot me like he did Eren and Armin. That’s what you were going to say, right?” Levi paused. “He’d never.” 

You opened your mouth to speak. You flickered your eyes across the room, feeling rather puzzled as you started to piece things together.

“Levi?” You spoke with caution, preparing to ask a question you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer to. “Why hasn’t Connie come after you yet?”

Levi didn’t answer.

You spoke again.

“Aside from being fired and getting a letter threatening your friend, Connie has left you alone. Tell me why.” You bit your lower lip. “Jean and Eren were basically tortured. I was imprisoned. Reiner’s family could have burned to death. Even Armin was beaten, and yet . . . you sent Erwin to rescue me. You stormed Connie’s house with everyone else. You embarrassed him by getting caught sleeping with me, making his company look bad or whatever the hell it is he was always saying. You pissed him off more than anyone else, but you . . . you and your cousin, Mikasa, were always just fine. You still have your nice house even without your overpaid job. There isn’t a scratch on you. You haven’t been locked away. Your loved ones are fine. Tell me why.”

“What are you trying to say? What exactly are you accusing me of, Y/N?”

Suddenly, you pulled out your brand-new phone, the one Levi had purchased for you. 

Your old phone was still with Connie. 

Unlocking your new phone and tossing it on his desk, Levi darted his eyes down at it, then back up at you.

“I always thought it was kinda funny how my stalker took photos of us from right outside your house. But, surely you didn’t have anything to do with it, because why would you get yourself in trouble, right? Unless you knew nothing bad would happen to you. And you knew it would make you look more innocent.” You nodded down at the phone. “Open it. Read my recent messages.”

Levi hesitated, but then, he picked up your phone and scrolled through the recent thread of messages and photos from an unknown number.

The texts were all similar in nature. Different variations of someone claiming they were watching you while snapping pictures of you in public.

“What the hell does this have to do with me?” Levi’s frown deepened. “You think I’m somehow behind you getting stalked? Or do you think I’ve been working with Connie this entire time? Which is it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s both. Maybe you’re behind everything along with him.”

Levi’s glossy eyes glistened with hurt. 

“I promise you that I’m not working with Connie. I’m not the one stalking you, either.”

“Then why hasn’t he come after you?” By now, your hands were trembling again. And although it was cold in Levi’s office, that wasn’t the reason why. Once again, you sniffled. “Why won’t you answer me?”

Amid Levi’s silence, you got up from the chair. “Okay, that’s it. I’m fucking leaving.”

You didn’t have any place to go, truly. Instead of money, you had to rely on hope, that maybe Reiner, Jean, or Annie would let you stay with them for a little while. 

Assuming you could trust anyone right now.

“Wait,” Levi called out defeatedly. “Don’t leave.”

Slowly, you sat back down.

“I’m not stalking you, and I don’t know who is. I’m not working with Connie either.” Levi’s voice softened. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not guilty of some things. I’ve been with CS Records as a manager since the beginning. I saw everything he did become successful. I knew how he treated people. I knew what kind of monster he was, but I didn’t do anything about it. He made me one of the richest managers in Hollywood, so I kept my mouth shut. I let good people get hurt. I told myself I couldn’t do anything about it because he could kill me and make it look like an accident, but that was just an excuse. I didn’t start pissing him off until you came around, and I just wanted to protect you.”

“That’s why you were apologizing to Eren when you were saying your goodbyes. He’s one of the people you let get hurt.” You glared at Levi. “Still doesn’t explain why Connie leaves you alone.”

“He leaves me alone because I have evidence. I’ve been collecting it since the day he made Eren and Jean sign their first contract.” Levi made unwavering eye contact with you. It sent a chill up your spine. “He doesn’t know where it is, doesn’t know what it is, so he can’t destroy it. But he knows I have it.”

“Seriously? That doesn’t make any fucking sense! How the hell does he know you have evidence but doesn’t know what it is?”

“I alone am a piece of evidence, because I’m a witness to almost everything he’s done.” Levi got up from his seat. He walked around his desk and leaned back against it, and he looked down at you.

“Listen. All you need to know is that Connie doesn’t touch me because he knows I could ruin his life. He knew I’d be fine if he fired me. I’m smart with my money. Anything else would be crossing a line with me, and he knows that.”

“Then why haven’t you come forward with all this evidence you’ve been collecting?”

“Because I don’t know if it’ll be enough.” Levi paused. “I give it to the police, then what? He’ll just pay to get it tossed out.”

“If that’s the fucking case, then I don’t get why he doesn’t come after you anyway if he knows he’ll get away with it. Wouldn’t killing you solve that problem?” Your glaring only intensified. Levi, however, remained calm.

“Probably, but I also have the guts to kill him,” Levi replied. 

After all, Connie wasn’t the best shooter. Two out of three of his recent victims had survived. If he tried to murder Levi to get rid of any evidence and the skilled man lived, then the retaliation would have been horrific. 

You raised your eyebrows in shock. Then, your face fell into a blank expression. You chuckled a bit.

“I’m telling the truth,” Levi spoke with sternness, and yet, his voice was soft as well.

“I don’t care,” shaking your head, you could see Levi’s heart break a bit. It was reflected within his intense, sad gaze. “If what you’re saying is true, then you’re still the bastard who stood by and did nothing while Connie abused his artists with contracts and all of his fear tactics. And you let me join that fucked up label as well, and you didn’t say a damn word. Collecting evidence — for what? So you could continue to sit back and do nothing? You’re telling me he won’t touch you because you’re apparently so goddamn dangerous that he’s afraid you’ll kill him, but yet, you don’t have the power to throw his ass in jail? I don’t care if he dies. I don’t care if he goes to prison. But something has to happen to him. You have to do something — you could have done something. What will it take for you to even try? Was-Was Erwin getting shot not enough? Was him torturing people not enough? What about Armin getting murdered? Remember him? The guy who had you as his emergency contact because he trusted you? Or what about Eren? The son of the people who adopted your cousin? Will you finally do something once I die? Is that what it’ll fucking take?”

Once again, you rose from your seat, but this time, Levi didn’t try to stop you.

“I get it. You’re not as rich as him. You can’t influence people to the degree that he can. You give the evidence to the police, he gets rid of it, and then there’s no point. But you should have tried. You should have tried years ago. Hell, even two months ago would’ve made a difference,” you started to make your way towards his front door. He followed closely behind. “You were always fucking lying . . . saying you couldn’t do anything because of his gun or his Silent Men or whatever . . . there was always an excuse. And, let me guess, taking me in and caring for me was your way of apologizing? Was fucking me supposed to make it all better too?”

“Are you serious?” Levi followed you into the foyer. The anger in his voice — an anger you hadn’t ever known to come from him — it made you stop walking and turn around to look him in the eye. But despite his harsh tone, his gaze was filled with nothing but hurt. The amount of pain — you hadn’t recognized that either. “You tried to use our baby . . . my baby . . . as a way for you to get revenge on Connie, and I didn’t say a word. It’s hilarious how you’re pissed with me for not taking down the same bastard you married. You were more than willing to let him continue to be a piece of shit if it benefited you, and I didn’t say a word. You’re no better than I am.” You’re eyes shifted away from Levi, but he continued to speak. “Maybe I should’ve done something a long time ago, but if you can recall, every single one of us stormed Connie’s house, ready to put a bullet in his head, and you told all of us to fuck off. You yelled at us for trying to handle him. Now you’re yelling at me for not handling him. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you want when it comes to anything.”

“You should have done something long before I got involved with him or with you. You should have done something years before you even met me.” Your voice was softer now. Levi couldn’t tell if your shaky words were laced with guilt or with quiet hatred.

Thanks to the darkness of the foyer and you standing in the dark shadows, whereas he stood in the moonlight spilling in through the nearby windows, he could barely see your face. 

Regret and guilt bubbled up inside of him until his insides felt rotten. It wasn’t a matter of who was right and who was wrong, nothing was that simple when everyone had regrets that kept them up at night, tossing and turning in bed, but Levi knew one thing: he didn’t want to lose you.

“Let’s just sit down and talk about this,” he said. He hated the way he sounded, but he hated the idea of you leaving even more.

“Nope, there’s nothing else to talk about,” you stared at Levi with dark eyes he couldn’t recognize. “All of those media training classes you and Connie put me through told me it was improper to voice my opinions like this. Remember?”

When your hand touched the door handle, Levi’s hand grabbed your wrist. 

“What? Are you gonna imprison me too? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Your jab hit Levi like someone slapped him across his face. As a former member of the military, and as someone who had quite a rough childhood, he was good, old friends with pain.

But nothing had hurt quite like your words.

The ache in his heart had spread to every limp. It was an unfathomable pain he could feel down to his fingertips.

There was an unpleasant prickle of hot tears threatening to fall. His waterline brimmed with them. He wasn’t the type of person to cry easily, but that changed when it came to you.

Everything changed when it came to you.

“It’s late at night. You have nowhere to go and no money to get anywhere. If you want to leave, I won’t . . . I won’t stop you. But you should call someone and ask them to pick you up. If you try to walk, all of the goons with cameras outside will just follow you down the street.”

You didn’t let go of the door handle. Levi continued to speak. “We could also sit down and talk it all through. I made mistakes. I’m human, and a shitty one, but I’m sorry. Me helping you out wasn’t to ease my guilt. I did all of that because I care about you and you know it. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Only a few seconds had passed, but to Levi, it felt as if you were both frozen in time for an eternity, plus an extra minute. 

Your hand released the door handle, and Levi let go of your wrist. Suddenly, you turned around and started to walk away, your shoes lightly stomping against the floor. You walked past Levi as if he was invisible.

“I’m calling someone to come get me,” you shouted, making your way back to Levi’s office to retrieve your phone. “Once I’m done, you can have that phone back. And never speak to me again, got it? As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as bad as Connie.”

—

One hour later, Reiner arrived to pick you up from Levi’s house. And, of course, cameras flashed continuously as you made your way to his passenger seat and slammed the door closed. 

You hated to use Reiner this way — even if he didn’t mind it. 

It wasn’t fair to him.

But you had no other option. 

You didn’t know Annie well enough to burden her with this. Jean was too busy with his own recovery. Luckily, Jean was back at his own place, being looked after by hired help. 

Being around Reiner had instantly overwhelmed you with comfort. His aura alone was soothing. The way he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes had created the delusion that, perhaps, everything would be okay someday.

Reiner was silent for the first few minutes. Then, as he made a right turn, he asked that haunting question: “What happened?”

“Connie took all of my money. Made me realize that Levi hasn’t suffered as much as everyone else. When I asked him about it, he told me that Connie doesn’t bother him because Connie knows that Levi isn’t afraid to kill him and has evidence that can put him in prison. He said he hasn’t turned it in to the police because he figures Connie will just pay to get rid of it, which makes sense, but . . .”

“But what?” Reiner darted his eyes in your direction, then back at the road ahead. 

“Levi was in the position to do something about Connie. Even if turning in evidence failed, he still sat back and let everyone join CS Records. Fear is a powerful thing, and if Connie is really afraid of Levi and everything he could do, then Levi could have used that fear to get Connie to do anything — turn himself in, stop being a shitty person, anything. But he did nothing. He’s still doing nothing.”

Reiner knew you. He knew that right now, a lot of your anger wasn’t truly directed at Levi. The poor man was just being used as a punching bag, a way for you to avoid being angry with yourself for not protecting your finances from Connie. It was a way to not take in your new reality: you were poor and homeless yet again.

After all, one could blame Levi for not acting out against Connie’s behavior for whatever reason. 

But you were just as guilty.

Fear was a powerful tool, but so was love. 

If you weren’t blinded by his billionaire status, then, perhaps, you too could have done something about Connie. After all, you knew what kind of man you married.

But you didn’t do anything. 

Everyone else was guilty as well.

No one tried to stop Connie when they had the chance, beyond trying to free you from his grasp. Blame the contracts. Blame the fear of homelessness or death. Those were all valid excuses, but they were excuses, nevertheless. 

And now Armin was dead.

Maybe Levi should have been the one to go toe-to-toe with Connie. After all, if Connie was scared of him, then he had the biggest chance of surviving the chaos that would have ensued by trying to toss him in prison. Reiner couldn’t say. But he felt as if your anger was misplaced.

He wouldn’t admit it, though.

The last thing he wanted was for you to jump out of his car.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Reiner said gently, the nickname not holding any romantic implications, but rather, just a result of his southern nature.

“It’s not alright,” with a sniffle, you folded your arms across your chest. “He’s gonna get away with murdering Armin too. He’s gonna get away with everything.”

—

Reiner set you up in his homey guest room. Promised that you could stay as long as you wanted. But he wasn’t a fool. 

Your heart had moved on from him. 

It belonged to that dead baker in the ground.

Even so, he would be there for you no matter what.

Two weeks later, it was raining. Rarely had such weather occurred in L.A., but for the last few years, it rained more often. 

Your days consisted of sitting on the bay window bench in the beautiful, charming living room, sipping on warm beverages.

One day, you walked into the kitchen, smiled at Reiner, and said, “Your cappuccinos are amazing.”

Since then, a steaming hot cup of cappuccino was always waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

This morning wasn’t any different. You were greeted with your favorite hot drink as of late, and after getting dressed, you both headed to the hospital to visit Eren.

He was still hanging on. Still in a coma. Still teetering between life and death.

On this rainy day, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see Levi as well. You hadn’t spoken since the day you yelled at him. The pained look on his face haunted you more than you would have liked to admit, it reappeared in your scattered mind whenever you tried to fall asleep at night. After spending those sleepless evenings lost in thought over what conspired between you both, you realized that you were out of line. 

Reiner didn’t want to admit it, but you could see the way his eyes shifted whenever you ranted about Levi during dinner. He chewed on his chicken alfredo and didn’t say a word, but it was obvious that he thought the same thing.

Everyone had done some things wrong. Everyone had done some things right.

Levi had reasons to be angry with you, such as trying to use his baby to trick another man into marrying you for greed and revenge. Even so, he never snapped at you. He didn’t speak to you the way you spoke to him.

But it didn’t matter anymore. You were poor. The world had started to forget about Armin’s murder. Eren’s condition hadn’t changed, so he was no longer appearing in headlines. Everyone had started to paint Connie Springer as innocent, and for the people who hadn’t, they didn’t care. Several billionaires have killed a person or two. Who cared about some random waiter?

In short, the world found other things to obsess over. 

It was tragic and peaceful at the same time. 

Arriving at the hospital, only a few paparazzi lurked outside of the entrance. Fans were still present as they screamed for you and Reiner.

And, both luckily and unfortunately, you didn’t see Levi in the waiting room.

“Hi honey,” Carla greeted you softly, wrapping her arms around you. 

“It’s good to see you,” with a gentle smile, you pulled away from her, and like you had done a thousand times, you asked, “How is he?”

“There are some positive signs,” Carla clenched the piece of tissue in her hand. “Why don’t you go see him?”

The positive signs that Carla had mentioned seemed nonexistent. When you walked into Eren’s room, nothing about the rockstar had changed. But there weren’t any nurses in his room right now. There wasn’t the thick aura of death. The machines hooked to his body didn’t sound so scary.

But he was still there, pale and thin, eyebrows furrowed with a tube down his throat and wires attached to his body. 

This time, you pulled up a chair to sit by Eren’s side. By now, you had gotten more comfortable with talking to him. 

“Hi, Eren. It’s Y/N,” you greeted. Gently, you pulled up on the collar of his hospital gown, straightening it out more. You stroked his forehead with your thumb, and let your fingers run through his hair. 

You didn’t see it, but a finger on Eren’s left hand twitched.

“Hair’s still amazing, don’t you worry. Your mom’s been combing it every day,” you said softly. “I’ve been drinking cappuccinos lately. It’s just one little thing I have to look forward to, you know what I mean? It makes me think about all the things waiting for you when you wake up. All the things you have left to look forward to. I know life has been shitty, but . . . your family’s still here. I’m still here. We aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to wake up, heal, and live a long life, okay? You’re going to be so happy, healthy, and free. We’ll all make sure of it. I’m going to sit here with you for a while — is that okay?”

You ran your thumb across Eren’s eyebrow. Even like this, he was still so beautiful.

Perhaps, the entire world would have been more eager to throw Connie in prison if he had ruined Eren’s face.

Leaning out of your seat a bit, you planted a kiss on Eren’s forehead. 

“I love you, Eren.”

Eren’s finger twitched again.

Thirty minutes had passed. During that time, you sat with Eren, talked to him, and even read him a few pieces of dialogue from a play you were writing in your spare time. It was nothing more than a few printed-out sheets of paper inside of a flimsy folder.

As you scanned over the written stage directions, you flipped the page, mumbling about details you needed to change in certain scenes.

You didn’t notice that Eren had slightly opened his eyes until his body jerked and the nearby machines started beeping.

“What the hell?” Your eyes widened. A nurse grabbed your shoulders, ushering you out of the room as another one grabbed your chair.

Unfamiliar medical terms were exchanged, but from the hallway, you watched as Eren’s body continued to jerk. It must have been the tube down his throat, as they seemed to work quickly to remove it.

More doctors and nurses rushed into his room. More machines continued to beep. 

Holding your folder against your chest, your arms started to shake.

Tears started to fall like clockwork, but this time, they were from utter happiness, as Eren was starting to wake up.

—

The following week was a blur — a beautiful, confusing blur.

“As an actor,” Reiner paused, holding your hand comfortingly as you both sat in the waiting room. “I’ve seen my fair share of storylines involving comas. Television usually gets it wrong, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a polite whisper. “Either way, I’m happy. I can’t wait to see him . . . see him and have him actually respond to me.”

You knew exactly what Reiner was referring to. In movies and shows, patients often awakened from comas and were immediately responsive. You recalled seeing Reiner partake in having to play the heartbroken spouse on the other end of that sappy storyline once.

But, in reality, it took Eren a while to come around. Recovery wasn’t easy.

He had to get the hang of walking again, and other basic skills. Therapy, for both his mental and physical state, consumed his entire hospital stay.

For the first few days, he was utterly confused, and needed time to piece together what had happened to him. According to Carla, he remembered getting shot by Connie.

He remembered everything after a while.

The doctor didn’t want anyone aside from Eren’s parents visiting him during the start of his recovery. 

But now, you could see him.

He was in a different room this time. It was a proper one with a door, free from the symbolic afterlife advertisements and the aura of death.

This was a room that belonged to someone who was expected to live.

You knocked gently, then opened the door.

And there he was.

Only a week had passed, and yet, he looked better. Some color had returned to his soft skin. He looked as healthy as a person who had been shot and survived being in a coma for weeks could look.

What made you smile tearfully was that when you saw him this time, he was looking back at you.

Those piercing, gorgeous emerald eyes locked with yours. 

And he smiled beautifully.

“Eren,” his name slipped from between your lips.

You rushed over to where he sat in his wheelchair — he was undoubtedly sick of laying down, but not well enough to constantly move around just yet — and you leaned down and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry,” your hands were lost in his hair. You felt him weakly hug you back.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, oh my god, Eren. I thought you were gonna die.”

Pulling away from Eren, you couldn’t help but cup his face and kiss his forehead. Truly, you didn’t want to overwhelm him, but you just had to kiss his cheeks as well. And his nose. 

He might have been a badass rockstar, but your kisses made him blush.

After showering his face with affection, you sat down on the side of his bed. He was holding on to a big refillable water bottle. His portable I.V. pole was next to his wheelchair. He had yellow socks on his feet. The furthest corner of his enormous hospital room was filled with get-well gifts, cards, flowers, and balloons, including your own presents that you had dropped off earlier in the week, even though you couldn’t give it to him directly at the time. On the television, the action-comedy film Rush Hour was playing. He must have been watching it before you came in.

All of those little details you had noticed made you grin, simply because it meant one thing: Eren Yeager was alive.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, noticing that he hadn’t yet said anything to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . o-kay.”

The sudden heartache you felt sent waves of pain through your chest and down to your fingertips. 

He sounded unrecognizable.

It made sense.

He hadn’t spoken in weeks. His throat was also swollen from having a tube wedged down it for so long.

“Good. I’m glad,” you gave him a sad, soft smile. 

Eren’s eyes scanned over you. A look of worry flashed across his face. You seemed different, but that was understandable. 

He had heard about everything that was going on. 

Connie’s disappearance. Jean’s punishment. Your fight with Levi. Staying with Reiner. Your lack of funds. Armin’s death. 

His mother held him while he cried a few nights ago after learning that he had survived, but not his best friend. “I know, baby,” his mom whispered repeatedly, holding her son in his hospital bed as sobbed, wishing he could somehow trade his life for Armin’s.

And he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

Although it hurt to speak, he had to ask.

“You . . . o-okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” you gave a wave of your hand. “I’ll be fine.” 

Eren could see the sadness in your eyes, and not just from everything you were going through, but because you had walked in here with the hopes of listening to Eren run his mouth, only to discover that he could barely speak.

So, instead, he reached out, grabbed your hand, and ran his thumb across your knuckles.

Grabbing his hand, you suddenly raised it to your lips and kissed the spot below where his fingers were missing.

Seeing you make such a loving gesture both warmed Eren’s heart and snapped it into pieces. 

He looked at you with the softest, most loving eyes. 

If only he hadn’t let go of you way back then. If only he didn’t toss his ring and let Connie intimidate him into divorcing you.

If only.

Eren pulled his hand away from you. He stroked your cheek with his thumb. He tapped your nose with his pinky finger. Ruffled your hair a bit. Touched you in any way he could to communicate when speaking wasn’t the best option. It was his way of reminding you that this visit wasn’t the same as the previous ones. He might not have been talkative, but unlike when he was in his coma, he could look at you. Hear you. See you. Touch you.

Soon enough, you laughed. What a lovely sound — it always was.

“I heard you tried to throw a cup at your doctor once you found out he told us you only had two hours to live,” with a playful smirk, you jabbed at his cheek a bit with your finger. 

Eren nodded proudly.

‘That asshole scared everyone I loved,’ Eren thought.

Suddenly, your smile faded. Eren’s grin quickly diminished as well, and he looked at you with great concern.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking . . . I’m worried.” With a pause you carefully considered whether or not you should express your haunting thought. But it had to be something Eren was worried about as well.

“What if Connie comes back and finishes the job?”

Eren’s face of concern changed into anger at the mention of Connie’s name. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched — hearing the name of the bastard who shot him and killed his friend had flipped a switch within him.

But, truthfully, even if Eren could talk normally right now, he still would have met your question with silence.

What would he do, exactly?

As many times as Eren thought he had to courage to take the man’s life, he secretly accepted that he wasn’t that cold-hearted. He couldn’t kill someone, especially an old friend he had grown up with. Someone he would have died for.

Sometimes, he still saw that funny, idiotic teenager who liked to mix all of his food together during lunch and cherished his friend group. Never could he fully accept that the Connie he once knew was gone forever, replaced by a monster who only cared about money and power.

A monster who tried to kill him.

The corners of Eren’s mouth fell into a frown. He looked down at the white floor beneath him. 

“I guess that’s something we should worry about later, huh? Your recovery comes first. He won’t touch you while you’re in here.” Your smile was comforting, but it wasn’t convincing.

After all, this could have been the easiest way to kill Eren.

Connie could hire someone, get them to pretend to be a nurse, enter his room, and shove a pillow over his face until he suffocated.

No one would question his death if he died at the hospital. Especially when the doctors were certain he’d die a long time ago.

“Hey, I have an idea,” you said. “Why don’t we head down to the cafeteria? They have ice cream down there.”

Instantly, Eren grabbed the pole to his transportable I.V. on wheels, indicating that he was ready to go. 

You got up, grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and started to push him out of his room.

“I don’t even know if I’m allowed to do this, but I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Reaching back with the hand that wasn’t holding on to the rolling I.V. pole, he touched your hand as a way of saying thanks.

Making your way down to the cafeteria was an easy journey for the most part. By now, the nurses and doctors who worked in the hospital had gotten used to seeing you, Eren, and other celebrities roaming the halls. 

But the group of fans gathered outside of the entrance lost their minds when they saw that familiar head of brown hair. 

Their muffled screams were startling. Some of them started to cry. They banged on the seethrough doors, either trying to get inside or catch Eren’s attention, you couldn’t be certain. As you rolled him by, he gave his fans a casual wave. 

That only made them scream even louder. 

Silence arrived once you pushed Eren out of their view and rolled him down a hallway decorated with modern, colorful contemporary art, contrasting against the white walls and floors pleasantly  — rather nice for such a depressing place.

“Wanna play U.N.O later? I have the cards in my purse.” 

Eren could hear the casual excitement in your voice. Of course, you brought U.N.O cards. You loved that game, even if you tried to create your own rules.

At the sight of Eren’s nod, you said, “Great! It’ll be fun. I won’t change the rules this time-”

Suddenly, your footsteps came to a halt.

At the end of the hallway, Levi appeared.

Eren waved at him. Levi smiled, but it quickly diminished when his eyes darted up to you.

The man who was typically sharply dressed looked rather disheveled. Black hair was messy, longer than it typically was, and the dark circles under his eyes made it clear he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. He wore a grey long-sleeved hood and a pair of jeans. His phone was in his right hand, and he tapped it with his thumb, ending a phone call, more than likely. In his left hand, he carried a thermal bag. It must have been food for Eren’s parents.

Turning his head around in his wheelchair, Eren looked back at you, then faced forward to look at Levi.

Oh, how awkward it was. 

A wave of heat ran through your body. Pure shame and utter embarrassment. But turning around would have made it worse. So, you pushed Eren right past Levi as you mumbled, “Excuse me.”

—

The rest of the day was spent in Eren’s company. Eating ice cream, playing U.N.O, and watching the rest of Rush Hour made you forget your own troubles for just a few hours.

The rockstar didn’t want to admit it because he didn’t want you to leave, but he was exhausted. You could tell based on his tired eyes and sleepy grin.

So, you let him rest, telling him goodbye and kissing his forehead gently after helping him back into his bed.

Returning to the waiting room, you overheard Carla and Grisha discussing having two bodyguards standing outside of Eren’s door for his safety. After hugging them goodbye, you went down to one of the more private exits of the hospital and stood outside underneath the carport-like shade. You hadn’t called Reiner just yet. He was a busy man, one who still had a career to worry about, and he had clocked in for a sixteen-hour shift on yet another film set after making sure you were able to visit Eren. 

But he promised that he’d send a driver out to pick you up and take you back to his house once you were ready to leave. All you had to do was send a text message.

However, a lump of guilt formed in your throat, preventing you from doing so. 

Reiner never made you feel like a bother. He welcomed you back into his home — back into his life with open arms, even as a friend.

Although you could see the glisten of hurt behind his kindhearted gaze because your heart no longer belonged to him, he never did anything for you because he expected some kind of love or favor in return.

But your lack of independence was starting to get to you.

Never — not once in your entire life — had you truly been independent. 

Maybe for about a year at most, but aside from that, someone had always cared for you, whether it was with diamonds and fine dining or pennies and sandwiches.

So, you didn’t text Reiner. You put your phone back into your purse, unsure of what to do.

That’s when you noticed Levi walking out of the door. Once again, he was ending a phone call. 

Who exactly was he always on the phone with?

This time around, encountering Levi was far more awkward. It was just the two of you, standing outside, alone in the dark, listening to the gentle raindrops splatter onto the ground. 

Levi started to turn around and head back inside, but the sound of your voice made his footsteps halt.

“Wait,” you said. “Don’t leave.”

Levi didn’t move.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I was out of line the other day.”

He turned to face you. Staring at his unreadable expression, you wished that, just once, you knew what he was thinking. 

“That’s your apology?” Levi’s sudden frown was a mix of both sadness and anger. “After everything you accused me of . . . everything you said to me . . . that’s the best you can do?”

Your shameful gaze dropped down to your feet, briefly staring at the concrete ground before looking back up into his eyes.

“I was upset. I was going through a lot and I wanted someone to blame. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, especially after everything you’ve done for me when you didn’t have to lift a finger. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person. I of all people know how difficult it is to break free from someone like Connie . . . to pick wanting money over doing the right thing . . . and . . . I’m just sorry.”

The rain started to pour harder. It filled the silence until, after a moment, Levi started to speak.

“I forgive you. You weren’t entirely wrong, either. I should have done more, and I should have done it years ago. I was never the kind of person who’d let people get hurt as long as it benefitted me, and how I became this way, I don’t know. I’m sorry too.”

“I understand,” you said. The smile that appeared across your face had erased any remaining aggravation that Levi might have felt in his heart. “Believe me, I get it. I don’t know much about your past, but I know you know what poverty feels like, right? I mean, most people don’t understand how far someone will go to avoid being homeless and starved. That’s where me and you are kinda similar, you know? Along with that, you said you had been collecting evidence since the beginning, right? You might not have done anything with it yet, but . . . in my opinion, it means that you didn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Connie wasn’t always as cruel as he was now — a simple, yet important fact that was often overlooked by his latest actions. Once upon a time, he was just a ruthless entrepreneur with life-altering contracts. Still a shitty human being, but it was better than who he was now — a murderer. Imprisoner. Torturer.

That came once you got involved with his life and label. 

And that was when Levi, and everyone else, hit their limit. 

Your words made it difficult for Levi to make eye contact with you. He wasn’t shy by nature, nor someone who was easily made to feel anxious or nervous — an effect he had on others — but hearing you say those words, especially after your argument, was touching. 

But nothing could ease his guilt. It was a burden he’d live with forever, something he wasn’t certain he could learn to forgive himself for even after a lifetime of therapy. 

Not until Connie was behind bars or six feet under, at least.

“Y/N, did you really think I took care of you to ease my guilt?”

With a light shrug, you mumbled, “I’d be lying if I said I knew why you did anything, Levi.”

“Really?” Levi smiled sadly. His voice was soft as he spoke. “Are you being serious? I let you sleep in my house. I bought all of your favorite snacks in bulk. The only time I’ve ever tried to fight against Connie was for you. Everything I’ve done . . . you mean to tell me you don’t realize that I love you?”

There it was. That beautiful confession. One that made you want to smile and cry at the same time. 

“Finally. I love you too.” With glassy eyes and a soft grin, you breathlessly said, “Well, it took you so long to say it first, no wonder I didn’t piece it together. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Suddenly, as that last word rolled off of his tongue, Levi stepped forward, cupped your cheeks, and pressed his lips against yours.

He didn’t care who might have been watching. He didn’t care if you were an infamous heartbreaker. He moved his lips against yours passionately without any regret. And — god, he could feel your lips wanting to spread into a smile as you kissed him back. 

It was the kind of kiss that made him mourn what could have been. 

He thought about you both losing your baby more than he let on.

And he thought about what his life might have been like if Connie never imprisoned you. If the seed of revenge was never planted within you.

Would you have told him the truth? Would the two of you have had a family, perhaps? Some sort of happy ending? Was it too late to try again?

When Levi pulled away from the kiss, it was only because he needed to breathe. Damn the human body for needing oxygen during such a sweet, cherishable moment. 

As badly as Levi wanted to take you home and toss you across his bed, he couldn’t. 

Not yet.

The last thing he wanted your relationship to amount to was friends with benefits.

You both almost had a child, and yet, he hadn’t even taken you out on a proper date.

Levi’s eyes darted down at his black shoes. He couldn’t see it, but the sight of his cheeks becoming a faint shade of pink and his flickering eyes made you smile even harder than before. Underneath his intimidating and cold personality, he was rather adorable.

“Are you busy tonight?” Levi questioned. He subtly cleared his throat, attempting to play off his sudden awkwardness. “If not, we should go somewhere.”

“On a date?” “Yes. On a date.”

—

Levi was a classy man. Call him old-fashioned, but he preferred the ways of greeting his date with flowers, wearing dresses and suits, fine dining at gourmet restaurants, and being the perfect gentleman. 

But tonight would have to go differently.

After all, you were both giving each other the silent treatment several minutes ago. Now, you were sitting in his car, getting ready to have a late dinner with him.

Half of him had wished that he asked you out tomorrow night instead, giving him time to prepare, but, truth be told, there was something charming about being this spontaneous. 

As he drove down the streets of Los Angeles, struggling to concentrate on the road because he wanted to keep staring at your cute grin — which made him smile too — he wasn’t sure where to take you tonight.

It wasn’t easy. After all, you were both dressed appropriately to visit someone in the hospital, not to go dining at a five-star restaurant amongst other celebrities and rich citizens. 

But, if you went to cheaper, less impressive dining places where your outfits would have been fine, you both would certainly be bombarded by paparazzi and fans who weren’t used to seeing celebrities walk into such common eateries. 

Even so, he was certain you would have preferred to eat at one of the more sophisticated restaurants in town. Levi had opened his mouth to suggest you both go somewhere for a quick wardrobe change so he could properly treat you to a classic steak and lobster dinner, a meal you had rambled about often in the past, but before he could speak, you sat up, staring out of the passenger seat window. 

“Oh, wait, wait, Levi, let’s eat there!”

It was a diner. A tiny, twenty-four-hour restaurant that undoubtedly served bottomless coffee, greasy food, and had an interior that hadn’t been remodeled since the 1970’s. 

It was the same place Levi picked you up from a while ago.

Pulling into the parking lot, Levi could see that the family-owned diner was being run by a chubby old man wiping down a table, who looked like he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Despite living in the heart of all things film and music-related, the man didn’t seem like someone who would recognize you and Levi. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t care. All he cared about was serving his customers delicious food and making sure their bellies were full, no matter who they were.

From what Levi could tell, only one or two customers were in the diner. A younger girl who looked like a runaway, and another old man who was looking forward to completing a crossword puzzle in the morning. 

“I know it’s not . . .” you paused, thinking of the appropriate word. “I know it’s not fancy, but I don’t know. I saw this place the other day, and I really wanted to go inside. The food smelled really good.”

“Then let’s go inside, hm?” Levi smiled softly. He had never smiled so much in one day before.

Excitedly, you swung your passenger door open, and Levi had to grab your arm. “Wait, slow down,” he was rather amused at your impatience. 

“What? What’s wrong?” You frowned. 

Levi opened his center console and pulled out a hat. He tugged it on your head before pulling his own gray hood up. 

Everyone could still see your faces, but maybe the hats and hoods would help against any strollers who might pass by the diner, glance through the window, and see your familiar head shape.

—

Just as Levi had predicted, the old man treated you both like human beings.

The other old man in the diner hadn’t even glanced over to see who entered, as Jeopardy! was playing on the television hanging on the wall, and it held his attention like a moth drawn to a flame. 

However, the young runaway — a brunette teenage girl with the tips of her hair dyed bright purple — didn’t recognize Levi, but she knew who you were. After all, she owned a physical copy of the latest album created by Eldian Devils and a Jean Kirstein t-shirt — a black top with a white line drawing of his lazily cupped hands. His fans adored his hands as much as he did.

Two days ago, she watched your movie, A Game of Darkness, through Netflix on her cell phone as she waited at the bus stop.

But she didn’t bother you. She didn’t freak out.

Instead, she smiled kindly, removed her hand from the pocket of her jean jacket, and waved.

When you waved back, her smile brightened, and she went right back to eating her stack of pancakes.

The Classic. That’s what you had ordered; a burger and fries combo complete with a milkshake you shared with Levi.

Levi had ordered a sandwich with tater tots, but that didn’t stop him from stealing a french fry off of your plate.

Playfully, you swatted at his hand.

“Excuse you,” you said with a grin. “I bet if I took a bite of your sandwich, you’d start scoffing at me.”

“You can take a bite, I don’t care. The problem is that you’d unhinge your jaw and take the biggest bite possible,” grabbing two tater tots off of his plate, he put them on yours. “There. Now we’re even.” 

“One fry equals two tater tots?” You questioned. 

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re smaller.” 

“But they’re wider.” 

“Fine then,” with a small grin, Levi stole another one of your fries. 

You giggled a bit — a sound that would forever make Levi fall in love with you just a bit more. It seemed as if being in the diner had made you forget all your troubles, even just for a little while.

With your hand placed over the circular bottom of the vanilla milkshake in an old-fashioned glass, served with whipped cream and a cherry on top, you slowly slid it across the table to Levi’s side after taking a sip. 

“I’m giving you permission to steal another french fry from me, but you have to dip it in the milkshake.” 

“What for?” 

Dipping your own fry into the creamy dessert, you said, “I had a feeling you never tried it before.” 

“Got that right. I don’t look at a french fry and think, hey, this could really use some frozen sweet milk,” Levi's teasing tone made you tap his leg with your foot underneath the table, kicking him jokingly. 

“Maybe you’d be less grumpy now if you had tried it growing up.” Nodding in the direction of the milkshake, you bit into your own ice cream covered french fry. “Try it.”

Hesitantly, he grabbed another fry — pausing to put two more of his tater tots on your plate — and he dipped the fried potato into the milkshake, careful not to make any of the white, cold mixture spill out of the glass cup.

He took a bite. He raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise for a second, then, he tried to play it off by looking away, avoiding the sight of your amused smirk.

“You like it! I can tell,” you beamed. 

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can!”

Your lighthearted bickering session continued throughout your little date. After debating over the french fry and milkshake combination, you had challenged Levi to see who could tie a knot with the stem of the cherry from your milkshake using their tongue — the ultimate test of a good kisser.

It was endearing to see you this way. 

Watching you cover your mouth with your hand to hold back your loud but enduring laughter so as to not bother the other guests. Listening to you ramble on and on about different topics, such as why french fries should have been considered gourmet food, and at one point, you even told him about your play. He could see the passion in your eyes — the shy nature of sharing something that meant so much to you. Neither the topic of music nor acting had ever made your eyes sparkle like they were now.

And he was honored that you felt comfortable enough to tell him about your real passion: writing.

At one point, hours later, you and Levi had both sat in the diner for so long, that the owner had gone home and his daughter took over for her shift. The other guests had left too, and according to Levi’s watch, it was around midnight.

But neither you nor Levi had grown bored of being in each other’s presence for long. 

Not only had you shared your passions with Levi, but he started to open up as well. 

You asked him about his childhood.

He gave you as much detail as he could, even if he struggled to maintain eye contact as he did so.

He told the story of his beginnings as a boy without a father and a mother who was a sex worker. He touched on the topics of being raised and abandoned by his uncle, joining the military to combat poverty, and then helping out the boy whose parents adopted his cousin form a proper band, and assisting that boy’s friend with the launch of his record label.

When he brought up Hange and Erwin, his two best friends, he smiled.

Once you and Levi eventually left the diner after getting lost in time, he dropped you off at Reiner’s house.

It was drastically different from his own — not necessarily in terms of size, as the place was huge, making it obvious that the man wanted to have a lot of kids someday or intended for his relatives to stay over often — but his home looked like someone plucked a mansion out of the suburbs somewhere in the south and put it in the middle of Los Angeles.

The memory of seeing Reiner star in one of those house-building shows on HGTV several years ago suddenly appeared in Levi’s mind. He remembered skipping through the commercials about it. 

But it all made sense. Reiner probably had his home built specifically for him and his Tennessee-like, big family-seeking needs.

There were so many things he wanted to say before you got out of his car, shut the passenger door, and walked through Reiner’s front door. 

He wanted to tell you that you could live with him again if you wanted. He wanted to ask you out again and plan your next date immediately. He wanted . . . everything with you. 

But for now, he didn’t say a word.

—

— NEARLY TWO WEEKS LATER —

For the most part, your days consisted of the same routine.

Reiner would drop you off at the hospital to visit Eren. Levi would pick you up some nights, and you’d spend time together, going on brief walks in areas deemed as safe from prying eyes and pointed guns, and occasionally, you’d both stop by that lovely diner. 

You both made it a goal to try everything on the menu at least once. The old man beamed adorably whenever the bell above the door would ring, and he’d see you both walk in. You and Levi reminded him of his youthful days when he too was in love with someone. 

After your evenings out, Levi would drop you off at Reiner’s house, leaving the blonde-haired man conflicted, as he was happy to see you smiling again, but heartbroken that he wasn’t the cause of it. 

There was no greater misery than being roommates with someone you were once married to.

On an ordinary Thursday afternoon, you found yourself in Eren’s hospital room once again. His recovery was quite extraordinary. He could function like a regular person. Within the next few days, he would finally be allowed to go home. 

“Erennn,” you called out with a bit of a whine, shoes clicking against the mopped floor as you rushed over to his big window and pulled the curtains open, letting the pretty afternoon sun cast its colorful orange and yellow rays into his room. “You have the nicest view in the entire hospital. You should open your curtains more often. Just look at the sky.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Eren said curiously, his sharp eyes watching you as he sat in his chair. He moved the acoustic guitar from his lap and leaned it against the wall. Trying to play it only reminded him of what he lost — two of his fingers and a friend. 

“Is it ‘cause of Levi?”

Growing up, Eren had always been told several facts about his face — that it was perfect. Beautiful, according to science. Even now, the golden sunlight shined upon his gorgeous face, and it made him look like a god had spent an incredible amount of time crafting him. But, he had also been told that he was quite expressive as well, unable to hide even the slightest displeasure.

Everyone could always tell when he was pissed off, irritated, happy, or upset.

During those moments when he wasn’t glaring at someone with utter hatred, he, oddly enough, had a love stare as well. 

Where most people had blank or neutral expressions while interacting with others, Eren tended to stare at the ones he cared for like he was madly in love with them — he couldn’t help it.

It drove his fans crazy too. The way he’d look at every fan as if they were his soulmate, and they would blush and giggle.

And when he looked at you, well, his eyes would soften then too. But there was no mistaking that the love glistening within his gaze was real.

That’s how he was looking at you now. With that love stare.

But there was something else flickering in his eyes as well.

Jealousy and pain.

“How’d you hear about that?” You questioned, walking over to sit on his hospital bed — a bed he absolutely despised because laying down was his least favorite thing to do in such a creepy place.

“Reiner told me.” Eren shrugged. “I don’t think he meant to, but I couldn’t speak well, so he was running his mouth to try to fill the silence. You know how many people do that? They start rambling when it gets too quiet. I know so many secrets now, like my aunt Beth — you remember her, right? — well, she believed in Santa Claus until she was fourteen. Oh, and my mom never made homemade marinara sauce growing up. It was store-bought. She lied. But anyway, yeah. Reiner told me.”

“Oh,” with a gentle smile, you said, “Well, it’s not like I was trying to keep it a secret. I just didn’t know if there was anything to tell. Me and Levi aren’t . . . we don’t have any sort of title. With me still trying to get a divorce, and everything going on . . . I just don’t want to worry too much about romance right now, you know what I mean? All I know is that I like our little dates. It’s a good distraction from . . . everything else.”

Feeling his heart shatter into pieces was almost as painful as getting shot in the chest.

“He’s fucking lucky,” Eren mumbled, frowning a bit. “I’m happy you’re happy, it’s nice to see you smile, but I’m not giving up on you just yet.” 

With a little laugh, you shook your head.

“Eren, you’re worried about the wrong thing. Now isn’t the time for you to be jealous, okay?”

Eren turned his head away from you. Truthfully, the sight of his jealousy-driven antics made your heart skip a beat — the very heart that Eren would always have a place in, even if he didn’t own it.

“Eren,” you called out once again, leaning to the right until your elbow was pressed against the mattress. “Can you look at me please?”

He didn’t mean to act like a child. Truly, he didn’t. He hated himself for it. Armin had just died. You were in the middle of trying to divorce a monster. You were dealing with financial troubles and a lack of privacy from the rest of the world.

The last thing he wanted was to make you feel guilty over being around someone who made you forget your troubles, even for a couple of hours every night, especially when he was genuinely happy for you.

But he couldn’t help it.

He had his fair share of past relationships, hookups, and regrets. At one point, Hollywood could have given him the infamous heartbreaker title, just as they did you. 

But everything changed when he fell in love with you. No longer was he that rebellious rockstar who fucked supermodels and didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. 

He was now the kind of person who found himself blushing when you stared into his eyes. The kind of person who’d both kill and die for you. The kind of person who would do anything you wanted.

And he ruined it by both letting you go and pushing you away.

“I wish I never let that assrat force me into divorcing you,” Eren glared at the floor. “I wanted us to go to therapy — did you know that?”

“Yeah. I did. Connie made you leave me.” 

You recalled the memory of you, long ago, begging Eren to stay with you after you cheated on him with Jean.  

What a time.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You tried again. “Please don’t be jealous.”

After your plea didn’t work, you took matters into your own hands. You leaned off of the bed, grabbed the arms of his wheelchair, and rolled him over toward you. Still, he tried to avoid your gaze, but it was rather difficult with you being so close. 

“Eren, if you don’t look at me, I swear on my mom that I’ll . . .” you paused, pursing your lips. “Okay, I can’t think of anything, so can you just look at me?”

He couldn’t hide his laughter, nor did he want to. 

But, finally, his eyes made contact with yours.

“About time,” you smiled. 

“Why did me not looking at you bother you so much? I don’t get it.”

“Because I thought you were going to die, so . . . I guess I like to look at you as much as I can now. I couldn’t see your eyes for weeks, remember? And losing you would ruin me in ways I can’t even say.”

Your mind drifted back to that night at the bridge.

“Y/N,” Eren ran his hand over his face. For a second, you thought he knew about your dark day, and your heart skipped a beat once again, this time in utter panic.

“You can’t say shit like that to me,” Eren groaned. “How can you tell me not to be jealous and then say-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” interrupting him, you reached forward, grabbing his jaw gently, and rather playfully. “We’re not gonna talk about any of that right now, okay? There are more important things to focus on. For example, you could be getting discharged in a few days, which is a really big deal for a lot of reasons, and your safety is the top priority. You’re gonna have to put up with plenty of bodyguards for now, but it won’t be so bad. I’ll be around to help you out. So will your family, of course.”

“Fine,” Eren mumbled, but then, he suddenly grinned — as best as he could with your fingers pressing into his cheeks, at least. “What do you wanna do today, then? I can kick your ass at U.N.O, we can watch a movie-”

“Kick my ass?” You moved his head back and forth before releasing your grip on his jaw. “Since when?”

“Since before you started cheating. You shuffle the deck in a way that gives you all the draw fours, and I think you hide all the skip cards under your leg,” Eren was grinning even brighter than before. 

“Hush before I shuffle you.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Eren called out, laughing softly as you rose from your spot on the hospital bed to grab the deck of U.N.O cards from your purse. 

“It means I’ll give you an extended hospital stay.”

For a while, you and Eren proceeded to play cards and bicker until it was time for you to leave.

Tonight, you and Levi didn’t have any plans, but you had grown rather concerned when you checked your phone and saw that he hadn’t messaged you yet.

—

One day later, you and Levi found yourselves standing outside of the private hospital exit once again after visiting Eren and the Yeager family. 

Levi had prepared baked chicken and a green bean casserole for them, as poor Carla didn’t have the time or the energy to cook nowadays.

As you waited for Reiner to arrive, you smiled at Levi, and he grinned back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He spoke before you could question it.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” With much intensity, Levi stared into your eyes. “Not here, though.”

Reiner’s expensive, dark green pick-up truck came into view, his car slowing to a complete stop.

When you didn’t hop in immediately, Reiner rolled down the passenger seat window.

“Hey Levi,” he greeted. He looked at him, then at you. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, um,” you stepped closer toward the rolled-down window. “Do you mind if Levi comes back to your place with us? He said he needs to talk. It’s really important.”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Reiner smiled softly. 

Although, in his heart, he wanted to be your one and only, part of him was relieved to see that you and Levi had worked through your situation, only because if something had happened to himself at the hands of Connie, you’d have someone else to depend on.

—

It wasn’t long before the three of you were in Reiner’s living room. For extra privacy, Reiner asked his bodyguards to stand outside for a while.

Levi sat down in a chair across from the couch, which is where Reiner lounged, while you sprawled out on the bay window bench — your favorite spot in the entire world right now.

“What’s going on?” You asked Levi. “You’re worrying me.”

“I put a lot of thought into what you said, Y/N.” Levi shifted around in his seat. “The police don't care what you and Eren have to say, not when Connie’s making them rich. Every day, the situation dies down more and more, and soon enough, Connie won’t just get away with murder, but with everything he’s done to everyone. And he’ll keep doing it.”

“You’re right,” you mumbled. “He’s completely lost it, too. I’m worried he’ll come back and try to kill Eren again, or . . . any of us. That maybe he’ll change his mind about leaving me alive. We’re all living in fear.”

“What are you suggesting?” Reiner asked Levi, leaning forward until his arms were resting on his around his knees.

“We need to draw Connie out. I have a plan.” 

“What is it?” 

Levi looked over at you as you spoke. He looked you in the eye with that unreadable expression you’ve grown to both love and hate. Casually, he said, “We need to get married.”

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

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[lovelywritinglady]

hi can i recwest a uzui x reader where uzui have a argment and gat a divors and yn is pregnet years later when the child and he rillast that it is his child and has a tak whif yn and trase to fics everifing

if you canpleas do thak you and have a grat day

I’d love to!💜

Mistakes

Tengen Uzui x fem!Reader

You and Tengen got into a heated argument after a demon hunt gone wrong. He says some extremely hurtful words. You decide to leave him because you know you don’t deserve that. What you didn’t know was that you were pregnant with his child. Angst, slight fluff, Tengen being a dick, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, and other mature themes.

Your pov

"You nearly got us killed, what are you and idiot?" My husband Tengen yelled at me.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry!" I yelled back

"You cannot afford accidents like this Y/N!" He roared stepping closer to me causing me to flinch slightly.

"I'm sorry." I whispered

"Sorry won't even begin to cover the fucking stupitity of your actions! You have no right being a demon slayer with how dumb you are. I can't believe I married someone like you!" he yelled looking me dead in the eye with fury.

"Fuck you!" I snapped as my anger began rising as tears filled my eyes.

"Real mature Y/N, get the hell out of my house until you can learn some respect and basic combat moves." he said as he began walking away as I began to sob.

"Where the hell am I going to stay! Tengen, I'm your wife!' I cried walking towards him.

"Hell if I care, just get your things and don't come back until you aren't so incopitent." he snapped walking away into another room.

I stood there unable to think, feel, or understand the situation. My body moved on its own and next thing I knew I was out of mt home with a bag packed walking only god knows where. It was getting dark, but I didn't care all I knew is that I was no longer wanted, needed, or loved by the man that swore he would protect me and love me no matter what. So much for promises. I kept walking until the sun began to rise, my thoughts much clearer now and my tears no longer flowing down my face. I decided to go live with my older sister, Misa, who lives on the other side of the country. Her and I have always been close, and I just hoped I would never see that asshole again.

One Month Later

I feel unbelievebly sick, as every morning and evening I spill my guts out. I have an uncontroable hunger and yet anytime I try to eat something I feel once again that I want to throw up. I feel miserable not just physically, but mentally too. Despite his words, I still love my husband. He use to be my everything, but I suppose I was never his. He claimed that he couldn't believe that he married me and just thinking about those poisonus words make my body ache once more. Tears I try not to spill came fourth with so much eagerness that I had no time to stop them. I hated myself for crying over him, but I suppose I was really crying for the man he use to be. I knew in my heart that I would always love him, but now I can never be with someone who so easily made me feel like my very existence meant nothing. I heard a faint knocking that pulled me out of my thoughts as the sweet voice of my sister filled the room.

"How are you feeling this morning, Y/N?" Misa asked as she sat next to me putting her hand on my forhead.

"Not great." I sighed smiling at her wiping away my tears.

"Y/N, I really think we should get you a doctor. This has been going on too long." She suggested taking her hand off my head.

"I think your right Misa." I sighed

"I didn't want to say anything to you, but I really think you're pregnant." she said in a whisper

"What!" I whisper yelled

"You're showing signs and don't worry if you are. I will always take care of you." Misa reassured

"Lets hope I'm not then." I said nervously.

Two days later the doctor came, she was a sweet older lady that had a warm smile and a small figure. She came into my room and inspected me in all they ways she could. My nerves at this point were all consuming as I really did not want to be pregnant, especially since I knew who the father was.

"My dear you have no fever and no true illness. What you are expierencing, is early signs of pregnancy." she said with a smile

"I see, I guess my sister was right then." I stated sadly

"Are you not happy, I'm sure your husband will be." she stated with a concerned look on her face.

"My husband no longer wants me." I answered doing my best not to cry once more.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my dear." She said grabbing my hand.

"Thank you, I just have no idea what to do now." I said honestly

"That's just something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. At the end of the day you need to do what's best for your child." She spoke seriously

"Yes, I suppose you're right." I sighed

"Of course I'm right dear, I am a doctor." she joked

"Hey, is everything alright in here?" my sister asked as she knocked on the door.

"It will be." I whispered touching my belly.

Three Years And Six Months Later

My son, Kei, is now nearly three years old. He's a rowdy child that seems to always be obsessed with what is going on outside. Whether is rainy, snowy, or sunny, he's always begging to go outside. I can't complain though as I love nature and seeing his little cheeks puffed up when he askes is always so cute. Kei looks a little bit like his father as he got most of his features from me. His eyes are the same color as my ex husband and his personality matches. His hair is a lighter shade of h/c, which gave me relief. I still haven't told Tengen about our son, nor do I want to. Part of me feels selfish, but part of me doesn't want to subject him to a man like Tengen. Although, when they do meet, I hope he is kind to his son. Kei is too sweet and kind to have to be around a father that verbally abuses him. I just couldn't live with myself if I let my baby be hurt by him.

In these three years, I haven't had a full time job. Mostly they have been part time jobs and my sister has been providing for me and my son. She claimes that since she doesn't have a family that this is no trouble, but Kei is old enough where I can start working full time. It took a long time to find job, but one day my sister came into the house screaming that she found a job that was perfect for me.

"Y/N, this is a landscaping job." she nearly yelled in my ear

"Huh, that's a little different than the jobs that I'm looking for, but hey if they are hiring then I'll take it." I said confifently

"Mama what's going on?" Kei asked as he walked into the room with a sleepy expression.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to wake you up." I cooed opening my arms for my son. He then picked up the pace and ran into my arms crushing me with all of his nearly three year old strength.

"Its okay." he sighed playing with his fingers with a small tired pout

"Your mama just found a job, Kei." my sister said with a smile at her nephew

"Okay." he said disinterested. I smiled at this, he's so small and perfect and despite the fact that my pregnancy was not the easiest, it was worth it.

Two weeks later I found myself walking towards my new job. It was a sunny day and part of myself wished Kei was here to enjoy it with me. I can almost hear his voice calling my name begging me to play with him. I was lucky to have been blessed with him. My thoughts of my perfect child came to a halt as the gates of the house I would be working at came into view. Taking a deep breath I began walking to what I thought was the front door. This property was absolutely beautiful. Everything seemed like it was perfect, not even a pebble out of place. It was a calming place that seemed to inspire peace. For some reason this place looked oddly familiar and it only now hit me that this was the place where the master lived. Tengen had taken me here years ago when he became hashira while I was just starting to become a demon slayer. Before I left, I was one rank away from being hashira. I thought about training again, but now that I have my son I felt it was irresponsible. Plus I could never leave him.

"You must be Y/N." The master suddenly said and it made me wonder how long he was there for.

"Yes sir, its very nice to meet you. Thank you for having me." I said bowing to show respect to him.

"Of course. I am aware of your situation and am happy to give you work here." He said with a smile." Come with me and I'll show you the grounds.

Two weeks later

Working at this mansion feels peaceful and the work is harder than I expected, but the pay is well worth it. Today I raked, cut grass, and tended to the luscious gardens. The sun beamed down on me giving me a slight headache. Thankfully the day was almost over for me so that I could go home to my son and my sister. Kei has been begging me to take him here ever since my sister told him that the hashira train here. I have been reluctant of it since seeing Tengen might be a possiblilty and seeing a child in my arms was a conversation that I simply did not want to have yet, even though I knew one day it would happen. I heard light footsteps approach me. turning my head I saw one of the other workers and smiled at him. He was a kind man that was around my age and he and I had talked a few times.

"Hey there, how's the work today?" He questioned with a sweet smile.

"Same as always although its a little hotter than usual." I responded

"Yeah, but I like it when its hot because I know that cooler weather is around the corner." he said with a content smile

"That would be nice." I chuckled

"Oh, you should know that the hashira will be here tomorrow." he said seriously

"Well, I'll make sure to make myself scarce." I said trying to mask my nervousness.

"Don't, all you need to do is smile and show them respect." He smiled

"Will do." I laughed standing up.

"Well I will see you tomorrow and tell your son I said hi." he smirked

"I'll make sure to tell him, see you tomorrow." I bowed

I watched him leave with a fake smile on my face. As soon as he was out of sight I sighed as my stomach throbbed with uncomfortable uneasiness as I began waking to the shed to put my tools away with my head hung low. I was no where okay with the fact that Tengen might be be here tomorrow. I remembered that his main goal when we were married was to become a Hashira. It was even mine once upon a time, but I want cup out to be one. I thought that maybe I should call in sick, but no one would believe that. Even if they did, I’d feel too guilty about it. The best thing to do was to avoid seeing him and focus on my work. If I keep my head down and not do any quick movements, then he won’t see me, hopefully. My thoughts were completely consumed with my nerves that I didn’t even register that I had bumped into someone until I heard someone speaking.

“Hey watch where you walk, alright.” The voice snapped

“Forgive me, I wasn’t looking.” I said frantically bowing as to show respect and forgiveness.

“Y/N?” The voice questioned lowing its tone. I then stood up and as my eyes met with the stranger I immediately tended up. My breath hitched and my stomach dropped into the ground. The one and only Tenge Uzui stood before me in all of his flashy glory.

“Uhh, you gonna say anything?” He joked as his eyes raked over my body.

“Um hi.” I stuttered slightly unsure of what the hell to even do. And I tended even more so when his body came crashing into mine in a bone crushing hug. I could feel his urgency and I almost allowed myself to met into his arms. But I couldn’t because I knew it wasn’t right.

“I missed you.” He mumbled into my hair. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve that.” He cried.

“I know.” I said monotone still unsure what to do. Do I tell him about our son or do I keep my mouth shut and pretend like any of this is okay?

“Where have you been?” He questioned breaking the hug but still standing close. I looked up at him and sighed.

“Here and there, but mostly I’ve been living with my sister.” I said honestly. I really couldn’t lie to this man he’s really good at sporting liars. As much as I hated him, I really didn’t feel like lying to him.

“Ahh so that’s where you’ve been. I though your sister moved away from here.” He said curiously.

“She was going to, but she decided to stay.” I responded trying not to show too much emotion.

“Guess I should’ve looked there.” He joked

“You looked for me?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I did you’re my wife and I love you.” He scoffed as though he was offended I would be surprised by that.

“I just thought you wouldn’t care.” I mumbled

“Of course I care.” Tengen sighed

“Well you sure as hell didn’t act like it then.” I snapped

“You’re right, I didn’t I was too hard on you. You made a simple mistake. Hell I’ve made mistakes too. Making mistakes in this line of work is never good, but no one died. I should’ve been easier on you and I’m sorry.” He spoke. His eyes were pleading with mine saying silent apologies.

“Thank you for apologizing, but I can’t forgive you right now. You made me feel like I was nothing and I’m not just going to forgive that easily. I know one day I will, but I just can’t now.” I whispered as tears threatened my eyes.

“That’s understandable, I just hope one day that we can be together again. I miss you and honestly you’re the best aspect of life.” He said with a longing gaze.

“I’m not sure about that. That might take a long time. I don’t exactly trust you.” I spoke honestly.

“Fair enough.” He sighed. I reluctantly decided that I should just rip the bandaid off. Kei was his son and as much as I hated to admit it, Tengen was honest about his apologies. That man doesn’t half ass anything. So I thought this might be the time.

“Look Tengen I-“Just as I was about to tell him the screeching voice of my child filled my ears and I knew I was fucked.

“Mama!” Kei screeched as he ran straight towards me crushing me into a hug. He nuzzled his head into my thigh and despite how nervous I was I smiled at how cute my baby was.

“We have a child.” I finished with an awkward smile. Tengen stood there stiff and unmoving which was strange for him. I had never seen him tense up like this ever and I began to regret not going home sooner.

“Mama who’s this and why is he so tall.” Kei questioned waking up to Tengen. “Hey, you okay?” He said as he poked Tengens hand.

“Ummm.” Tengen said still shocked at the fact that Kei, his son, was standing right there. Matching pink eyes and all.

“Ummm?” Kei questioned craning his head to the side. “That’s a weird name.” Kei said in disgust.

“Baby this is Tengen Uzui and he’s a hashira. And he’s also your father.” I said trying to stay as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re my dad.?” Kei asked Tengen with cute excited smile on his cubby face.

“Yeah, I guess I am kid.” Tengen whispered crouching down and pulling Kei towards him in a loving him. “I’m your dad.” Tengen cried.

I began to shed a few tears at how cute this meeting was. I felt slightly bad that I didn’t tell Tengen about our son, but I had good reasons not to. I’m just so glad that he seems to be a better and nicer man. My thoughts then came to a haunt as I noticed my sister wasn’t here nor was was neighbor that Kei likes to hang out with. Meaning he came here alone.

“Kei honey, did you walk here alone.” I questioned with my hands on my hips.

“Umm no.” He quickly said.

“Kei answer your mother honestly.” Tengen said sternly but not too much as to scare the child.

“Yeah okay I came here by myself. But I really missed you!” Kei cried quickly to defend himself

“I missed you too, but you need to wait until I get home.” I sighed looking at how adorable my son looked with a pout.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. Smiling at my son hugging his father brought peace to me. And I then decided to do something that would bring us all together.

“Tengen, would you like to join us for dinner?” I questioned still looking at the cute scene before me.

“Absolutely I would!” He exclaimed standing up and picking up our son, swinging him in the air.

“Yay!” Kei screeched

Making eye contact with Tengen I have him a small smile. His eyes looked relaxed and happy and I’m glad that he found out about or son. He then came up to me smiling as well.

“Y/N thank you for allowing me to be with him. I will do by best to be the father he deserves and hopefully one day the man you deserve if that’s what you’d like.” He spoke looking at me with hope in his eyes.

“Thank you, I’m sure you will. And for that second bit only time can tell.” I joked

“Sounds good to me. Alright shall we go?” Tengen suggested

“Yeah, I wanna show you my room!” Kei said

“I bet it’s the flashiest room ever.” Tengen said matching Kei’s energy.

“It sure is!” I exclaimed content about the situation that I was in. But I wondered something.

“Hey why are you here early?” I asked Tengen

“The master told me to come early.” He spoke

“Why?” I asked

“No idea, but something tells me this was the reason.” He spoke softly

“Maybe.” I responded shaking my head at the thought that my new found boss could be so kind.

We walked to the house as Kei held Tengens hand as well as he could. While the adults caught up on the years and for the first time in a long time I felt happy to be near Tengen.

Thank you so much for reading💜 Thank you to whoever requested this! Sorry it took longer than expected.

Please fell free to comment, repost, and request.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

-L.W.L

[kanmom51]

I’m a baby army, just some months into the fandom so far. I got introduced to their music through a co-worker, she was constantly playing their music at work and I got curios. when she was introducing each member everything was ok, but then it came this part of “there are some famous ships in the fandom too” ( I was familiar with the concept of shipping and I asked if it was a thing in army) the answer was that “it’s cannon in the fandom and everyone knows that V and Jungkook are together, there is so much prove about it but we protect them ” “yoonmin it’s canon too but we don’t know much about them” and to be honest I just thought to myself oh well, ok, because of course I was not familiar with anything at the time. I have to admit she never said anything negative about any of the guys while introducing them to me, but as I started watching original content like BTS run, Bon voyage, The Soop, Jikook caught my eye and I started to search more about them and I was like wait a minute. weren’t these two lovebirds supposed to be the cannon of another pair each? 🤔 ones I asked about it the answer was simple and plain “Yeah those 2 spend a lot of time together, Jimin is kinda of an attention sicker, if you look close Jungkook it’s so done with him 99% of the time” and I was shocked, didn’t we saw the same content or what? My point in here it’s that she wasn’t the only one, ones I got introduced to other army I could see a lot of them claiming Jimin being an attention sicker and even a seductor by nature that only those it for fun and manipulation to the younger member (don’t know if these people realize jk it’s 24, he might be the maknae but he’s not 11 and forcing him… that man has too much muscle and brains for me to believe it’s Jimin’s victim) Do you think that’s the reason a lot of “army” allow jikook to get so much hate? Regardless of their bias or if they are “Ot7” Has Army as a fandom normalized calling Jimin basically a man wh0r€ but with kinder and disguised words? I think it would be easier to admit that some are jealous he has a grate a$$, talent, money and apparently the most wanted boy in the music industry as a bf. Anyway I’m so happy I found your blog, it has become my safe place when it comes to jikook 💜

Hello hello anon.

Welcome to the fandom and to my blog. 💜

I am so glad to hear that you had the foresight to go and watch the original content and the intelligence, including emotional intelligence to see just how special JM and JK are to each other.

"I think it would be easier to admit that some are jealous he has a grate a$$, talent, money and apparently the most wanted boy in the music industry as a bf."

Yes, I do believe that part of it is the green eyed monster. But I think it's kind of a mixture of that with so much homophobia too. It's so much easier to call JM a whore, a seductor, someone that is throwing himself, forcing himself on JK, than resigning themselves to the idea that JK is queer and madly in love with this other gorgeous human being.

And funny how these people call themselves true fans all while being super ignorant about who these two young men are as human beings.

On the one hand JK is this helpless child in their eyes, being forced by Hybe and JM into whatever they think they are doing. But on the other hand they see, well want to see, JK as a confident sexy "international playboy", a womanizer, or 'fuckboy' as one of my anons called him (which kind of also contradicts him being forced into something with JM).

Painting JM as this seductive flirt, and JK as this helpless being. The muscle pig that JM goes all wobbly giddy shy around, yes he's being forced into this.

They ignore their personalities. They ignore what they both say. They ignore what they both do.

Did JM force JK to suck on his ear in front of thousands of fans, or to tattoo his name on his hand, or to say "love you" to him during the LV concert? Did JM force JK to carry him out of the stadium? Heck no, to all of the above.

They have been denying this relationship for years now, thing is it's getting harder and harder for them as time goes by, and the louder and louder these boys get.