#next thing you know you are being slammed into the wall. I’m going to ruin you. as i run my fingers over your lips seeking entry

[sturniololoco]

hiii <3 could you do a little sister fic where she plays hockey and gets into a fight with a player from the other team? Just go from there ig 😭

Mad

Warnings: blood, cussing, crying, etc.

A/N: Kinda a true story, but mine happened in a soccer game lol, it's also rly short and prob rly bad lol

SLS/N’s POV

I know I’m not supposed to let my hair fall out of my helmet, especially when you're playing in a girl's hockey league, but my low bun fell out and I was in the middle of a game so I couldn’t fix it.

The score was tied and there wasn’t much time left on the clock, but I was skating faster than I ever had.

I hear the puck being sent my way by one of my brothers, and I quickly snatch it before I can get bodied by the girl on the other team.

Just as I reached my stick back to slap the puck into the goal, I felt myself fly back, head first, a burning sensation on my scalp.

I was being pulled back by my hair, getting whipped around to the point wear I fell and skidded into the wall.

The girl looked at me with a smirk before skating off, slowly.

I hated the way she looked at me, it made my blood boil and my heart race.

Ignoring the pain in my hip, I stood, then skated as fast as I could to her.

Next thing I know, I'm fully tackling her onto the ice, and that's all I was gonna do until she punched me,

Right in the damn nose.

Blood poured down my front and all over the girl, until it eventually reached the ice. My eyes were watering like crazy, but I ignored the pain and focused my enraged thoughts on the girl I was practically straddling.

Just as I was about to pound her into the ice, I felt arms around my torso, pulling me off.

I fought against them, wanting to get back at the girl who ruined my game, but I stopped once I heard the ref.

"You need to stop or your team will be disqualified."

I quickly shoved the person's arms off of me and then skated to the penalty box.

I got inside and slammed my halpet against the glass, feeling all my anger and the pain in my face hit me at once.

-

Before I knew it, the buzzer was going off, right after the other team scored the winning point.

I don't bother going into the locker room. Instead, I go to the lobby of the complex, taking my gear off while I wait with my brothers.

As people passed me on their way out, they gave me dirty looks, especially the moms on the other team.

I just sat there, blood pooling out of my face, glaring right back at them.

Until the girl that started this walked passed.

Next thing I know, I'm behind her, ripping her braided ponytail.

Just as she was about to retaliate, Nick, my brother, got between us while I felt Matt and Chris hold my arms back, keeping me from tearing this girl to shreds.

They bring me back to the bench and sit me down as Nick apologizes to the girl's mom.

As he turns around, he looks at me, a disappointed look on his face.

I slouch against the wall behind me, crossing my arms over my chest as I roll my eyes, not making eye contact with any of my brothers.

-

We silently got to the car, me aggressively chucking my gear in the back before climbing in the backseat and leaning my head against the car window.

"SLS/N, we need to stop the blood," Nick says, handing me a t-shirt that he found in the back of the car.

I take it from him and wipe my nose, feeling the bruising start to form underneath the red coating my face.

As Matt begins to drive, I feel the emotion and pain well up in my eyes so fast, I don't have time to stop it.

As I cried, I let out a frustrated groan, hitting my fist into my thigh, as it was the only thing in the car to punch.

"Don't do that! I know you're mad, but don't hurt yourself." Nick says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him.

As I lean into his side, he takes the t-shirt from my hand, helping me wipe most of the blood from my face.

"These are just angry tears," I say to the car.

Matt laughs and reaches back behind his seat, finding my leg, and then giving it a little pat.

"We need to find a way to get all that anger out of you kid, you got way too much of it." Chris sighs, shaking his head.

This makes the car laugh, and I even manage to smile through the pain in my face.

I was happy that they weren't mad at me.

-

"Matt!" I yell from my spot on the couch, head in Chris's lap.

"I need some ice, please!" I yell again.

I hear a plastic bag being opened, then the sound of the ice maker.

Matt comes in and hands me the bag of ice, now wrapped in a kitchen towel.

Chris quickly takes it from my hand and gently places it under my eye where most of the bruising was, holding it for me.

As Matt sits down by my feet, Nick comes in, making me sit up and take an Advil, and chug a bottle of water.

As soon as I'm done, I lay back down next to Chris, trying to get the dizziness out of my head.

Chris must have noticed me squeeze my eyes shut because he says,

"Try and fall asleep kiddo. I'll be right here when you wake up."

I almost pass out as his words, and get comfy and smuggling into his side.

He holds the ice on my face and strokes my hair till I fall asleep, happy that my brothers aren't mad at me.

-

Kinda bad I'm sorry! If it wasn't what you were asking for, send in a more specific request and I can re-do it!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> ( eventually ) enhypen x reader genre -> soulmate au, fantasy au, angst warnings -> angst, mention of burns / attack, rejection word count -> 1.4k

abstract -> jake caused trouble not only to his soulmate but to his friends. is it wrong for wishing to things to be like the past? especially when in another life he was a knight for the princess?

jake’s perspective

Niki and I silently walked back to the door. Did we hear cries? Or was that all in my head…

“Jake! Niki!” Sooha said and I saw her face was filled with worry. “What happened?” I asked her and she didn’t know. 

“She rejected them again,” Jay said and I felt myself freeze again. I got carried away with what I did… but seeing Jungwon in the same state he was after the party and now Sunoo sobbing I felt guilty.

“I didn’t mean to,” I muttered out loud.

“Everything is your fault,” Niki muttered and I shook my head… I didn’t mean to hurt her, I just wanted her to be nicer to Sooha. So everything would be like it was before–

“Why would you ever do that?!” I was suddenly pinned against the wall by Heeseung. “Huh?” I said as I tried getting out of his grip…

“She has every right to hate every single one of us! To hate Sooha! But you? You ruined Jungwon’s and Sunoo’s wishes of being with their soulmate… Sunghoon’s chance to talk to her again, Niki’s chance to even try!” he scolded and they looked at me. 

“How bad is it?” he asked me and I shook my head. “I don’t know… I just wanted to scare her a bit! I didn’t mean to burn–” I got cut off by him slamming me again to the wall.

“You didn’t mean to! Jake, you've been learning to control for a reason!” he scolded me and I shook my head… It was an accident.

“Heeseung let him go!” Sooha came to my rescue… “Even I care… and I rejected her first. I at least have the decency to know she hates me and has every right to,” he said as he let me go. 

“What happened?” Jay asked and Heeseung and Niki looked at me.

“He threatened her and burned her” Heeseung answered and Jungwon and Sunoo rushed at me only for Sooha to stand in front of me and defend me… she was still on my side. 

“You’re the most blinding one of us all,” Heeseung said but I shook my head.

I loved Sooha... was that so bad?

heeseung’s perspective

Dealing with Sunghoon was a hassle now all three of them were rejected?

I was taking president duties and hoped to speak with y/n when I was stopped from even entering the Bright Sun and Riverfield room by K.

“Get out of my way,” I said and he scoffed. “So you can hurt her too? She’s not here… Wonyoung is,” he answered… Why wasn’t she here?

“Don’t try reading anyone’s mind… Wonyoung had someone put a barrier up where vampires can’t use powers in here anymore” 

“What Jake did was out of bounds, I just want to apologize–” “I’m gonna be honest with you… at the mention of any of you, she flinches. She’s a strong witch, but she’s weak compared to you. She’s a blood witch… she can’t do any spells against vampires. Now even her own soulmate attacked her?” he said and he pointed at me to leave. 

I was when I saw her. We made eye contact when I noticed her eyes trembling… She was scared of me.

She left hurriedly… How were we gonna fix this?

The next day wasn’t any better… Sunoo and Jungwon were worse than Sunghoon… Probably cause they already bonded with her

Jake still doesn’t feel remorse… he’s upset he lost control but not for who it damaged.

He’s convinced that the three rejected soulmates will get better… he wants us to be with Sooha like we were before meeting Riverfield

I wonder how he’d feel knowing her soulmate was K… “Again?” He asked and I sighed. I stood in front of the bright sun and IST council wanting to reason things out.

“Why are you the one here? You rejected her first?” He asked and I scoffed of course he knew about this… K was always in everything.

“Jungwon, Sunoo, and Sunghoon are all in pain… Jungwon and Sunoo love her and they—“ “Don’t you think you’re missing someone?” He asked and I was confused…

“y/n got rejected by Jake… she can’t do magic, she’s terrified of the vampire council, and she quit the witch council,” he said and I couldn’t believe that…

“Why would she quit? She’s been leading the—“ “How can she face any of you after her own soulmate attacked her?! She can’t defend herself against you! Just because she’s top of her class doesn’t make her the strongest now because of the merge you idiot!” He yelled and he was right…

Any werewolf or vampire could overpower a witch… a repeat of history. 

“K what— why are you here?” Wonyoung soon came out and glared at me. “How is sh—“ “Horrible” she interrupted.

“Look I just want her to maybe talk to Jungwon and Sunoo they—“ “No. Not after that bastard burned her claiming to stay away from all of you! She’s only protecting herself… it’s not like any soulmate bond will work if all of you constantly reject her,” she said as she slammed the door.

I was walking to my dorm when I heard sobs… I looked at where they were coming from… her dorm

I knocked and she slightly opened it to close it again. “I’m sorry for what he did… he wasn’t meant to hurt you. But Jungwon and Sunoo miss you… you bonded with them surely you miss them? Sunghoon he’s been like this since you rejected him weeks ago… and Niki completely lost his chance. Please y/n?” I pleaded and she opened the door.

Her face was puffy and her cheeks stained by her tears… her neck was wrapped in bandages.

“Why did he have to attack me?” She asked softly and I shook my head… I didn’t know what to say… when a soulmate hurts their soulmate it hurts so much more than it normally would

Burns already hurt added to the bond hurting also was painful

I tried getting closer to her when she only got away from me… “I'm sorry” was all I could say and she chuckled… “Why do you care? You rejected me t–” “Just because I did doesn’t mean I don’t care. I can't help that I love Sooha… but I don’t want to see you in pain because one of us' ' I confessed and she shook her head. 

“No matter what I'll be inferior to her '' she cried and I shook my head… “Stop thinking what he said… it's not true.” I begged… she kept going into her head that she was being used by us, that we’ll only ever love Sooha.

“Go away” she said and I would’ve if I didn’t see her tears fall down her cheek.

I got close enough to hug her and she flinched at first before choking on her sobs.

“I’m sorry”

I kept petting her hair as she slept when I saw two witches with food and ice cream now glare at me… yelling curses in their heads, quite literally curses.

“I know what Jake did was wrong, she doesn’t deserve to be told she's inferior to Sooha nor get third-degree burns and a broken soulmate bond. Jungwon and Sunoo are getting worse every day. They won't eat. and if they don't, they’ll lose control and attack a student. Sunghoon won’t either and his wolf has been fighting him yelling at him nonstop and he’s beyond tired,” I said and they sighed.

“She hasn’t slept since she rejected those two…” Eunchae said and I sighed. “Why do you guys love Sooha so much? What does she have that y/n doesn’t?” Wonyoung asked and I sighed…

“Do you know the story of the seven vampire knights?” I asked and they nodded. “Sooha is the reincarnated princess of those seven knights… and I'm one of the reincarnated vampires,” I confessed and they were shocked.

“But they were soulmates in their past life?” Eunchae asked and I shook my head. “They weren’t… but the seven knights loved her like she was. Her soulmate was originally a werewolf and they were never together. Everyone in that story in to be reincarnated and given peace in their new life” I confessed and they sighed

“So you love Sooha… because you knew her even in your past life?” Euncahe asked and I didn’t know how to answer. 

“I do, but seeing y/n in pain seems to hurt more than when Sooha cried in my arms. I know it's the soulmate bond trying to revive itself but… it's better that we aren’t together. Look at what getting in her life has done?” I said as I looked at the witch sleeping soundly on me. 

“But she’s your soulmate, '' Eunchae said and I smiled. 

“Which is why I’d rather her be safe than happy”

taglist -> @sunus-sun @loumin908 @on-1ce @shinkenprincess-oh @b-a-nshee-blog @bnnyniky @sakuxxi @chiiiiiiiiis @cncreams @pre1ttyies @justanunstablefrog @graythecoffeebean @starzniiky @singlepringle4you @chirokookie @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @imtoanonymousforyou @lovgfrd @ilovecheese09 @sousydive @pink-but-rosie @kyleebob

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[seeingivy]

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks. 

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities. 

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits. 

“Eren.” 

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too. 

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side. 

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll. 

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth. 

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself. 

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up. 

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion. 

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.” 

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words. 

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood. 

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door. 

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep. 

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?” 

“Eren. Oh my god.” 

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms. 

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove. 

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana. 

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders. 

“What is it? Who died?” 

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic. 

His first thought is you. 

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-” 

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

Because it’s Marco. 

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen. 

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it. 

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together. 

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight. 

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one. 

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this. 

Eren’s quick to respond to that one. 

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks. 

eren: phone is on. 

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking. 

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone. 

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-” 

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.” 

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers. 

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits. 

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-” 

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard. 

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-” 

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. 

“How long?” 

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil. 

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers. 

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing. 

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it. 

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death. 

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds. 

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren. 

In full flesh, that Marco is gone. 

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight. 

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t. 

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here. 

But he can’t. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air. 

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper. 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods. 

That he’s here and he’s got you. 

“Anything. What is it?” 

“Is he dead?” 

Maybe not anything. 

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him. 

“Y/N.” 

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller. 

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.” 

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind. 

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard. 

“Yes. Marco’s dead.” 

And you don’t even know the half of it. 

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest. 

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-” 

“Y/N, come ins-” 

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots. 

“Wait, is that-” 

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks. 

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-” 

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help. 

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks. 

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.” 

“It’s just grass. What’s-” 

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth. 

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch. 

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says. 

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back. 

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain. 

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair. 

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.  

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off. 

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table. 

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you. 

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years. 

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands. 

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond. 

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them. 

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead. 

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away. 

“Welcome back, kid.” 

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself. 

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back. 

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you. 

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind. 

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had. 

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you. 

All you know how to do is ruin people. 

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks. 

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?” 

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.” 

“We?” you ask. 

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.” 

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation. 

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks. 

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous. 

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats. 

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group. 

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress. 

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them. 

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress. 

“Hi guys.” 

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you. 

Mikasa and Jean. 

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest. 

“Hi princess. Missed you.” 

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.” 

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid. 

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees. 

“I asked Historia.” you respond. 

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir. 

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds. 

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations. 

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too. 

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks. 

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile. 

“Really funny story. Sooooo….” 

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans. 

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling. 

“Was it cool?” you ask. 

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds. 

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him. 

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states. 

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds. 

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.” 

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds. 

“Connie!” 

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile. 

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.” 

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject. 

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away. 

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this. 

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look. 

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging. 

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins. 

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect. 

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything. 

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur. 

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours. 

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room. 

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco. 

“How are you?” Mikasa asks. 

“Okay, Mika. How are you?” 

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first. 

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to  you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here. 

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.” 

She smiles, leaning her head against yours. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.” 

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond. 

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you. 

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.” 

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep. 

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-” 

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies. 

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-” 

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.” 

You swallow hard. 

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-” 

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-” 

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard. 

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you. 

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch. 

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers. 

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door. 

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off. 

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room. 

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.” 

“I found yours! But where is mine?” 

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist. 

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond. 

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it. 

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.” 

“Quit moving your hands.” 

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand. 

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar. 

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?” 

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there. 

“And that it’s cute that you did that.” 

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door. 

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand. 

“You left it in the bathroom.” 

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are. 

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks. 

“No.” you shrug. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander. 

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show. 

“Eren?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” 

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget. 

“Of course. On set, in the-” 

“No, no. I mean, for real.” 

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.” 

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

“Do you think he’s haunting us?” 

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now. 

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated. 

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!” 

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.” 

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.” 

“Eren. It’s more compl-” 

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.” 

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says. 

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds. 

You smile, giving him a nod. 

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?” 

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.” 

“That’s a lie.” you state. 

“No one believed him.” Eren responds. 

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other. 

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands. 

You still love him. 

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn. 

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper. 

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers. 

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk. 

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-” 

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his. 

“He knows, Y/N.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.” 

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head. 

“I have something for you.” he murmurs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.” 

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks. 

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.” 

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh. 

“Never could hold his drink, could he?” 

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.” 

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind. 

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks. 

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-” 

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you. 

“Your new name is Margaret.” 

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.” 

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.” 

“Bruce Wayne!” 

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.” 

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.” 

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks. 

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on. 

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night. 

--

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other. 

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him. 

“Good morning, Con.’” 

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.” 

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice. 

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat. 

“Sleep well?” he asks. 

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.” 

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.” 

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.” 

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile. 

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet. 

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you. 

“I want to apologize.” Connie says. 

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it. 

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-” 

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh. 

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead. 

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you. 

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond. 

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now. 

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-” 

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?” 

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-” 

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?” 

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him. 

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say. 

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom. 

“Sorry?” 

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?” 

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response. 

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur. 

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?” 

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.” 

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.” 

“Connie, that’s enough-” 

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks. 

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-” 

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.” 

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers. 

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs. 

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs. 

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder. 

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all. 

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams. 

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan. 

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren. 

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.” 

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand. 

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper. 

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head. 

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows. 

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean. 

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there. 

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on. 

“Good morning kiddos!” 

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing. 

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.” 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek. 

“Bruce.” 

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds. 

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. . 

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ” 

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius. 

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard. 

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring. 

And wander in silence for the rest of the day. 

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed. 

--

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black. 

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set. 

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room. 

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands. 

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him. 

“Oh. Hey, you look-” 

“Are you serious?” 

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things. 

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?” 

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you. 

“Wait-” 

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

“How could you do this? To him? To me?” 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out. 

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder. 

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Eren?” 

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction. 

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg  Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-” 

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at. 

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills. 

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-” 

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-” 

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.” 

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.  

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.” 

You nod. 

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.” 

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues. 

You’re here and you’ve got him. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.” 

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk. 

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper. 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper, 

“No. No, no. Stop.” 

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side. 

“Why are you-” 

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering. 

“Why not?” you ask, frowning. 

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.” 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur. 

“Y/N. We can’t-” 

“Who?” 

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.” 

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake. 

“Why were you in here?” you ask. 

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.” 

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask. 

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last. 

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only. 

--

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say. 

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together. 

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face. 

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles. 

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop. 

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks. 

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them. 

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead. 

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?” 

“With Mikasa.” he responds. 

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence. 

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera. 

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him. 

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds. 

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera. 

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds. 

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile. 

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?” 

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says. 

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.” 

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off. 

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories. 

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo. 

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans. 

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.” 

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug. 

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco. 

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.” 

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen. 

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?” 

“Damn right you will.” you respond. 

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile. 

“Good.”

--

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

[blueicequeen19]

Games & Consequences

Warnings: non-con, degradation, creampie, humiliation, deep throating, dark Rafe

You leaned against the upstairs balcony overlooking the party as you finished your drink. You hadn’t intended to come to this party because you hated the host but you needed a hookup and all the hot guys were here. Now you just had to find one you wanted.

“Just the person I was looking for.” You startle at the sound of his voice as a door slams. You spin around to see Rafe Cameron advancing on you with a murderous look in his eyes.

“Oh shit.” You turn to flee but there’s no where to run as he quickly yanks you inside, slamming the balcony door shut and shoving you against the wall.

“Oh shit, is right, you little bitch. Tell me, did you do it on purpose?” Rafe snarls in your face. You glare back at him, knowing this was coming.

“Fuck off.” You bite out. It’s the wrong thing to say because his hand wraps around your throat, cutting off your air supply as he presses his rock hard body against yours.

“You dared my girlfriend to make out with another dude.” Rafe spats, loosening his grip just enough for you to cough as you suck in a breath, tears filling your eyes.

“It was a game.” You shove at his chest but he tightens his hold on your throat again.

“A game where she ended up fucking someone else.” Rafe growls. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“They didn’t fuck. They just.. messed around a little.” You couldn’t help but smirk a little until his hand dove between your legs under your poor excuse of a skirt to cup your pussy.

“Yea? Like this?” Rafe lowers his voice as he strokes your clit over your thong, his fingers sliding through your slit. “He touch her like this?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You try to smack him but he’s quicker, throwing you off as he buries two fingers in your pussy. You’d be lying if you said the situation hadn’t left you practically dripping. You loved being roughed up. You just hadn’t ever expected it be from Rafe.

“God, this pussy is so fucking wet. You’re a little slut too, aren’t you?” Rafe taunts, adding a third finger and stretching you painfully wide as you fight back your cries of pleasure.

“S-stop.” You beg, grabbing at his wrist but he ignores you, kicking your legs wider apart.

“You ruined my relationship so now I’m going to ruins yours. Do you think she’ll still be friends with you after finding out that you fucked me? That you begged me to fuck you raw?” Rafe withdraws his fingers and shoves them to the back of your throat before you can respond, making you choke as you taste yourself. He forces you to gag until you’re sure you’ll retch before he finally pulls away, yanking you over to the leather couch by your hair as you cough and stumble.

“R-Rafe!” You wheeze as he forces you to your knees on the couch and bending you over the back of it.

“She used to beg me to fuck her raw and I never did. I knew that crazy bitch wanted me to knock her up. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when you tell her.” You can’t think past the terror gripping you as Rafe yanks you against his chest, his thick cock suddenly against your thighs as he growls into your ear.

“And you will tell her. Think about this next you want to play fucking games with me.” Rafe guides his cock to your entrance, thrusting in hard just as he bites down on your neck. You scream but his hand is quickly there to silence you, not hesitating a moment before pumping into you hard and fast. Your best friend wasn’t lying about his dick being huge.

You claw at the cushions, desperately trying to hang onto something as he fucks you savagely. There was no other way to put it. It was painful and punishing but your pussy was dripping down your thighs and an orgasm was being ripped from you before you were ready. Rafe laughs mockingly in your ear before shoving you down onto your face, forcing your ass up into the air as he continues to fuck you.

“Could you imagine her face if you got pregnant instead?” Rafe let’s out a sinister laugh that has your blood running cold and alarm bells going off in your head. You try to push up on your hands but he puts his weight onto your back, biting down on your shoulder as he delivers blow after blow to your spasming pussy.

“You are a pathetic little slut, aren’t you? Your pussy is so fucking wet. You’re making a mess.” Rafe groans into your hair. You were going to be covered in bruises from his bite marks and rough hands.

“Rafe. Oh, god. I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.” You cry even as you cum again. Rafe holds you in place with a firm grip on the back of your neck, his pumps not slowing down as he fucks you through your high.

“Say it again, slut.” Rafe hisses in your ear. “Like you mean it.”

“Please, I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m sorry.” You sob, feeling him smile against your cheek.

“Beg me to pull out.” Rafe taunts, speeding up his movements as he reaches beneath you to pinch your clit. You whimper as your pussy clamps down on him. It’s too much. You fight to get away but you can’t.

“Beg me not to fill this pussy up with cum then make you walk back downstairs to the party, knowing my cum is running down your thighs.” Rafe growls, pinching you harder until you’re about to scream your release only for him to stop.

“Rafe, pull out. Please. Don’t cum inside me.” You beg, the denied orgasm bringing tears to your eyes. Rafe chuckles before delivering two more hard thrusts then stopping with a broken moan, his body taunt against yours. You feel his warmth between your thighs and you cry, knowing he’d just wanted to hear you beg. He never had any intention of stopping.

Rafe lifts up, taking your limp body with him and forcing you to your knees on the floor so you’re facing the couch. Your eyes widen at the mess you’d both made all over the leather. Rafe fists your hair, forcing your face closer to the mess.

“Now, clean it up, bitch. We don’t have all night. We gotta go find your bestie and let her know what a traitorous little slut you are.” Rafe snaps, shoving your face down hard against the cushion.

You sniffle, biting back more tears as you slowly stick out your tongue and start to lick up your mixed releases. Rafe chuckles, his cock hard again against your back.

“You’re awfully obedient now.” Rafe chuckles humorously, pulling you back to face him by your hair and slapping his cock against your lips. You glare up at him, refusing to part your lips for him.

“Open up. You gotta suck my cock clean too.”

“Fuck you.” You bite out.

Rafe smiles before pinching your nose shut until you’re forced to open for him. He wastes no time in shoving his cock down your throat, fucking it like he did your pussy.

“Fuck,” Rafe moans, pulling back to allow you a breath before plunging back in deep. “You and I are going to have so much fun.”

[festivalsofmargot]

Sour Times

{Bully!Sebastian Sallow x Bullied!GN!Hufflepuff!}

Introduction: Slight deviation from the official HL story. Rather than everyone being intrigued at your unique arrival to Hogwarts, it’s a badge of dishonor to develop your magic so late. Hufflepuffs have a pathetic reputation, and you’ve been sorted into their house. The only reason Sebastian puts up with you is because he needs your ancient magic... and because he wants you all to himself. But he’d never tell, not when the whole school would start picking on and laughing at him like they did you. Yet, when he sees the way you look at Garreth Weasley, he wonders if everyone else’s approval means anything at all.

Word Count: ~ 6,350

Warnings: Kissing, Angst, Bullying

Author’s Note: I finally finished! 🥳 Us Hufflepuffs always get dunked on and I wanted to play around with that. I watched A Silent Voice and Normal People and couldn’t stop thinking about bully-to-lover scenarios. I’ve proofread so many times but I know I’m missing something, gonna do that thing where I get sneaky and edit here and there. Long one today so kick back, grab a snack, do hot people shit, enjoy 😘

Songs (if interested):

Sour Times - Portishead

Intro/Spectrum - HAELOS

September - Instrumental - Sparky Deathcap (oh... cara mia, how i love him)

Heather - Conan Gray

chance with you - mehro

Awaken - Dario Marianelli, Jack Liebeck, Benjamin Wallfisch

“We know that from time to time, there arise among human beings, people who seem to exude love as naturally as the sun gives out heat.”

- Alan W. Watts

-

As you meandered down the halls to your next class, holding your books with one hand and the other resting in your pocket, someone had grabbed your arm, tugging you behind a corner, causing you to drop your belongings. Whoever it was slammed your back into the wall, then propped up a hand next to your head to trap you in place.

You looked up and met the eyes of your abductor. This position wasn’t anything new to you, though it was new to be here with Sebastian Sallow. 

Someone was always trying to mess with you or ruin your day. Being a late bloomer with magic and getting sorted into Hufflepuff hadn’t done you any favors. Other than that, there wasn’t anything wrong with you per se, it was just your social standing at Hogwarts. Even some Hufflepuffs wanted nothing to do with you, believing you made their house even more embarrassing to be in. Yet, that didn’t stop any of the student body from threatening you to do favors for them. 

“Heard that you can wield ancient magic. Is it true?”

Your furrowed your brows, wondering how word could spread that quickly. But you suppose the magic you used on the troll in Hogsmeade hadn’t been very discreet. Too bad they gave all the credit to Natsai Onai, you might have made some friends with your troll takedown story.

Shifting your gaze down, you nodded your head.

“Prove it.” He held out a folded piece of parchment, the all too familiar blue glow emanating from it.

You took it from his hands and unfolded it to see rune symbols you’d encountered countless times. “Where did you get this?”

“Doesn’t matter, do you recognize those rune symbols?”

You nodded your head looking over the pages. “I see these whenever I need to unlock a door with ancient magic.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched and you finally met his heavy stare. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. “Exactly. And you’re going to come with me to open one I found.”

You folded the parchment back up and held it out to him. “Okay.”

He snatched it from your hands. “Don’t toy with me. If you don’t help me with this, I can make your life truly miserable here. I’m good friends with Ominis Gaunt, and he’s not afraid to use his family connections to -”

“I said okay.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, not knowing what you were playing at.

“Write me when you have a time and place.” You told him, exhausted.

He eyed you a moment longer, then stepped aside for you to leave. You picked up your books from the ground and kicked the dirt at your feet as you left, taking your time getting to your next class.

“So you’re going to help me? Just like that?” He called after you when he saw it was still just the two of you in the hall.

“Got nothing better to do.” You replied as you kept on your way.

-

Sebastian was the first person to ask for something and come along with you to get it done. Most people would just send you off, but there he was, exploring the cave and fighting giant spiders by your side.

That little outing turned out to be the first of many. Over time, Sebastian explained his sister’s curse and everything he had done to try to find a cure. He kept it to himself, but he was happy to find someone he could go through this journey with, someone who wasn’t trying to make him abandon hope, even if it was the Hogwarts outcast.

You made the mistake of assuming this meant you were friends in public. When you tried to approach him at Hogwarts, he looked at you as if you had grown horns. He caught sight of a few students whispering to each other and glancing your way. In a panic, he knocked the books from your hands, scattering them to the floor. 

“Looks like the Hufflepuff had a little accident.” He jested loud enough for everyone around to hear. He walked away to meet up with some other Slytherin students who were in hysterics at what he had just done. He glanced back your way and it took everything in him to keep the amused look on his face. You were picking your books up off the floor and Garreth Weasley had come to help you. Sebastian noticed he had said something to cheer you up and it brought a smile to your face. 

And then a thought surfaced in his head. I think I'd rather be the one who made you smile.

-

Sebastian’s public displays of discourtesy hadn’t let up. He felt awful, but he couldn’t stand the scrutiny he would get if he was seen with you. Just because he could see all these wonderful qualities in you, didn’t mean everyone else could. The Slytherins especially would give him a tough time. He would get defensive, spewing every excuse he could think of. “Don’t be daft. I only needed to see the Hufflepuff about charms class, nothing more.” 

The guilt ate away at him. So when the two of you came across the scriptorium door that could only be opened by casting the cruciatus curse, he felt this could be his penance. But you refused to cast it on him.

He fisted the fabric of your shirt, jerking you towards him. “Dammit, why not?!” He demanded, incredulous. Dread arose in him, because he knew if he casted it on you he would be causing true agony. Everything he had done to you at Hogwarts was an act of rudeness, he never wanted to do anything that caused you pain in this way.

“Because I wouldn’t mean it.”

His face recoiled as if you had slapped him. He was unable to believe it. After all you’ve put up with, how could you not mean to harm him, how could you not want to? “I have been nothing but cruel to you, this is your chance to be cruel back! I know you hate me! I know you hate everyone!”

“I don’t hate you.” You placed your hands atop his that were gripping your shirt, in hopes it would calm him down. “Cast it on me, Sebastian. Get us out of here.”

Sebastian released your shirt, shoving you back. He turned away from you and rubbed a steadying hand down his face. Using the frustration he felt with you then, he spun to face you and recited, “Crucio!”

You fell to the floor, your screams of suffering echoed through his head.

Sebastian shot up in bed in a cold sweat, breathing coming out uneven. He rubbed his face in his hands and let out a shaky sigh. Ever since the scriptorium, he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep, the nightmare had kept replaying in his head.

-

You arrived back at the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room rather late in the night. It was passed curfew but you wanted to get all of Sirona’s lost letters back to her. Seeing the look on her face had made missing out on a few hours of sleep all worth it. 

You startled when you saw a figure move out from the darkness. It was Sebastian, his eyes were red and puffy, dark circles had formed under them.

“Sebast -”

“Why’d you have me do it?” He demanded, his voice cracking. “Why couldn’t you -” He couldn’t stop the tears that fell. His shoulders began to shake as breathy sobs escaped him.

You ran up and pulled him into your arms, gently guiding his head down to your shoulder, and he let himself cry. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay.” You soothed.

He was the one who casted crucio on you, yet here you were comforting him. He felt worthless. You weren’t like anyone he had ever met. You never wanted anything in return, doing things purely out of the kindness of your heart even if it nearly killed you. He couldn’t grasp such a concept, and it overwhelmed him.

He went on his knees before you and took your hand into both of his. “Cast it on me. Please, it’s the only way I can make it all right. I did the wrong thing and I need to make it all right.” He pleaded.

You knelt on the ground with him, meeting his level. You pulled your hand from his and placed it on his cheek. You tried to meet his eyes. “Look at me. I will never do that to you.”

Though you meant for the words to comfort him, they felt like a knife to his chest. He smacked your hand away and scrambled to his feet, running out of sight.

He knew it then as he arrived back at his dorm room, and he let himself feel it entirely, as if he were punishing himself. He was in love with you, and he could never have you, not after everything he had done.

-

In the time that followed, Sebastian had wanted to act as if the scriptorium and his confrontation with you never happened. You kept an eye on him but went along with it. Your discreet meetings and his insults towards you resumed.

When Sebastian asked to meet briefly about information on a relic he had found in Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook, it was a good day for the both of you.

Your face was bright and ecstatic as you looked down at the thunderbrew potion in your hands. “It took me forever to get the ingredients, but I think I got a knack for brewing.” You couldn’t help but gush to Sebastian, trying to stifle your giggles and keep your voice low so no one around the two of you could hear. 

Sebastian didn’t dare let it grow, but a charmed smile tugged at the corner of his lips. If he was going to react to you, he'd try to make it look like you were a nuisance to be around.

“Do you think if - well, I mean - what would you think if -” You began timidly, biting at your lip. Sebastian didn’t look at you, but he listened close, clinging to each word you left him on. “Do you think Garreth would be impressed if I showed him?”

And away went any temptation to smile, he opened the book in his hand to act like he was reading. He discovered that to be the consequence whenever he found himself being pulled towards you, he’d always get slapped with the reality that you were pulled towards Garreth. The other day, when everyone was standing around waiting for Defense Against the Dark Arts class to start, he caught sight of you looking out the window, the sunlight painted your features bewitchingly. He made his way over and saw you were watching Garreth playing Summoner’s Court. “Day dreaming you were actually useful in this class, Hufflepuff?” He had taunted. He’d claim it was to keep up the act but it was really in response to the hurt he felt. The pain only worsened when you glanced his way fleetingly and went right back to watching Garreth with undivided attention.

You noted his silence and felt stupid for even bringing it up to him. “Sorry, I got carried away. I know you don’t care.”

“I think Weasley will soil his breeches no matter what potion you show him.” He said bitterly. “Why do you think he’s so great anyway?”

You didn’t answer and Sebastian looked up to see your gaze following the red headed boy as he walked by, laughing along with a few other students. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he looked back down to his book, eyes scanning the words but not taking them in.

“He’s the only person who’s been nice to me since day one. But I think that’s just who he is, looks like he’s nice to everyone.” You said the last part more to yourself. A chill went through the air and you began to shiver, seemingly too distracted to care due to where your attention laid.

“Where are your robes?” Sebastian tried to keep his voice monotone.

“Just forgot them is all.” Your eyes followed Garreth until he stopped walking to speak with some of his friends.

“Here. Take mine.” Sebastian exhaled as if he were annoyed, but he wasn’t. He was in earnest at the thought of wrapping you up in his robes.

You turned your attention back to him and shook your head. “No no, people will see. It’s alright.” Gaze returning to Garreth.

Sebastian stopped, robes halfway down his arms, then he shrugged them back on. “Oh... right.” He watched you shift back and forth on your feet, your fingers tapping against the potion’s flask. He could see the ache to run to the Gryffindor clear as day on your face.

“Send me an owl if anything else comes up for the relic.” You said without looking at him, and made your way over to Garreth.

He knew he should turn the other way and act like he was never speaking to you in the first place, as he always did after your furtive meetups. Yet his eyes remained glued to your form. As he watched you talking to Garreth with a beaming smile, laughing along with him as you showed him your thunderbrew potion, insurmountable heartache filled his chest. 

It had finally hit him how he couldn’t care less what people thought, they didn’t even know you. No one knew you like he did, especially not Weasley. If everyone saw you through his eyes, they could easily see you were one of the most capable people at Hogwarts. If all it took to win you over was being kind to you since the beginning, he wanted to kick himself. I’ve been the biggest prat.

How could he have treated you the way he had? Asking for your help all this time, but not wanting to be seen with you in public. He had been nothing short of a coward. His fear of what others thought had led him to lose any chance with you. You were the one that’s helped him through this nightmare of a curse on his sister, you were the one willing to take on immense agony in the scriptorium for him, you were the one he yearned for. He could say the same for none of these people.

The blood drained from Sebastian’s face when he witnessed Garreth slip off his Gryffindor robes and put them on you. It was as if the wind was knocked out of him, his breathing started coming out shallow. He told himself to get out of there. 

The first place he could think of was his dorm. He had tunnel vision the whole way there, a few students had asked if he was feeling alright as he passed. He waved them off, saying something about a potion brew gone wrong, he couldn’t fully remember. When he got to his dorm room, he burst through the door and sat at the edge of his bed. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and tried to steady his breathing. As soon as the sick feeling in his stomach started to dissipate, he laid back, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“What’s gotten into you?” Ominis asked, sitting himself on his own bed.

It took Sebastian a moment to be able to speak. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. “Nothing, I’m fine. Just feeling a little sick is all.”

“Is this about the Hufflepuff who helped us in the sciptorium?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, and that was the only answer Ominis needed.

“Nobody cares you know. Sure it’s fun to make fun of a Hufflepuff, that’s nothing new. And one that developed their magic so late? Easy target. But in the end, no one cares. After everything that’s happened, it’s no surprise you feel the way you do.” Ominis never hesitated to call people out, but every now and then he had a way of saying what needed to be said without making someone feel too ashamed.

Sebastian should have known this, he should have had this conversation with himself before it could have gotten this far. He felt like such a child then, laying in his bed, pouting at the predicament he put himself in. But it was hard to pick himself back up, he felt his relationship with you was unsalvageable at this point and it was his fault. He was the nuisance you had to put up with because of that pesky Hufflepuff loyalty of yours, and Garreth was your escape. Garreth could make you happy just by being in your line of sight. He could only dream of having that effect on you at this point.

-

Sebastian had searched for you all day but to no avail. As a last resort, he made his way to the undercroft, he cringed thinking back on the time he first showed it to you. “I’m only showing you this place so we won’t be seen working together. You’re not welcome here if I’m not here.” It wasn’t true, but how would you have ever known otherwise? He had been so cruel to you, it was no wonder you wanted to run into Garreth’s arms. He had practically shoved you his way. 

The sound of sniffling stopped him in his tracks. He pressed forward cautiously and saw you were sitting on the floor against the wall with your head down.

“What’s happened?” Sebastian strode up and knelt before you.

“Oh! Sebastian.” You startled. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll leave. Just allergies. Came down here to escape all that pollen.” You wiped at your face quickly, he could tell your eyes were puffy from crying.

His inner voice was screaming at him that this was his chance, as of that moment he could start taking steps in the right direction with you. He could become the person you wanted, slowly but surely. “Talk to me.” He sat beside you and took your hand in his, he began stroking it with his thumb in hopes it gave you some comfort.

You were taken aback by his actions, but then surmised that was probably how much he pitied you. You felt humiliated at the thought. The Hufflepuff got caught crying like a sad baby bird in the rain, who wouldn’t feel bad? You pulled your hand free from his. “It’s nothing, I just needed a moment. I’m truly sorry I came down here without you, I couldn’t think of any other place. I - I panicked.” You got up and began your escape out. “It won’t happen again.”

Sebastian tripped over himself as he went to chase after you. He ran up and wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you in place. “Don’t go. Please, talk to me.”

His touch felt wrong to you and you slid free from his embrace. You didn’t feel safe with Sebastian, you didn’t feel safe with anyone at Hogwarts for that matter. But the look on his face had convinced you somewhat he wanted to know what was wrong. “I just had a bad day.” 

He took a step towards you, hoping you would keep going. 

You rolled your eyes at the foolishness you felt. “I worked up the courage to speak to Garreth about how I felt and -” You stopped and shook your head. “This is stupid, I don’t know why I’m telling you this -”

“What did he do?” His voice was direct, body stiffening.

You let out a sigh, hating that you were revisiting the memory. You looked down and began twiddling your thumbs. “I told Garreth how I felt and asked him on a date to The Three Broomsticks. He laughed in my face and said no. Said he’d be friendly with me in public but he wasn’t going to be seen on a date with me. And then he said we could still have some fun in private together.” You recalled the incident, disgusted. “But what else should I have expected? You said it yourself, no one wants to be seen with someone like me.”

Sebastian had never seen your features turn so harsh, and he hadn’t hated himself more than he did in that moment. "I never should have said that to you. Please, you have to know I never meant it.” 

Your eyes didn’t meet his, he could tell you were still angry, not just with him, but with the world. He was surprised you didn’t get to this point sooner. Hufflepuffs really could put up with a lot before they’d had enough. 

Sure, he wanted you to have feelings for him, but more than anything he wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. Seeing your hurt expression then, he wanted to step up more than ever. “No good prick.” Sebastian dug his heels in the ground to storm out of the undercroft. “I’m going to kill him.”

Your eyes went wide. “What? No, it’s alright! Forget I said anything!” You grabbed his wrist trying to hold him back, but he just kept walking, dragging you along with him. “W - What happened to staying out of each other’s lives? You don’t owe me anything, Sebastian! Just drop it!”

Sebastian stopped to face you, he used the grip you had on his wrist and yanked you to him. He steadied you as you crashed into him, taking your face in his other hand and placing his lips atop yours. He wanted to convey everything he felt for you in that kiss, every thank you he should have said, every apology he should have made. You didn’t deserve any of the treatment you got at Hogwarts, especially from him. 

His brows furrowed as he deepened the kiss. He tried to be tender, but the urgency was what took over with how he moved his lips against yours. Your grip fell from his wrist in shock and he used his now free hand to grab your waist and pull you flush to him. He felt you kiss him back, but with hesitancy, and then you pushed him away.

He looked at your stunned expression, “This feels wrong.” You whispered.

Shoving down the sting he felt at your rejection, he strode out of the undercroft, leaving you standing there, dumbfounded.

-

Sebastian spotted Garreth in the middle of the quidditch field, joking around with some friends. “Oi, Weasley!” He called as he strode up to the red head.

Garreth turned away from his group. “Yeah? What is it, Sall-” His words were cutoff when Sebastian punched him square in the jaw. He shot a hand up to where the throbbing began to kick in. “What in Merlin’s na - OOMF!” Sebastian rammed into his gut, tackling him to the ground. It finally kicked in what was happening and Garreth began to shove and punch back. Nearby students gathered around in a circle, hooting and hollering for them to keep going.

“Show that Gryffindor how it’s done, Sallow!”

“Get him good, Weasley!”

“Levioso!” Sebastian and Garreth were pulled apart and lifted into the air at Madam Kogawa’s spell cast. The two boys eyed each other, bruised and bloody, wanting to go back at it as she approached. 

“I see detentions are in order.”

-

When Garreth confronted him, demanding what his deal was, Sebastian had dug into him. Shoving his finger into his chest, telling him he didn’t deserve someone like you.

“Oh please, as if you’re not doing the exact same thing. Everyone sees the ‘secret’ meetings the two of you have. I hardly think you’re the person to fault me.”

Sebastian couldn’t say anything in retaliation, because he was right. He deserved every punch and kick Weasley landed. But things were different now, and he was going to stop at nothing to prove it to you.

-

Sebastian leaned against the kegs just outside the Hufflepuff common room. He stood up straight when the entrance opened and you stepped out. Your gaze landed on him and your face twisted at his state.

“Are you alright?” You ran up to him and gently grabbed his chin to begin examining his bruising. Remembering you two weren’t in private, you yanked your hand back. “Sorry.” You glanced around to make sure no one had seen. It pained him, that after all the time you spent together, this was the habit he enforced in you. He grabbed at your hand and placed it against his cheek.

“I’m fine.” He thought about his next words carefully. “I'm not ashamed to be seen with you.” He began. “I’m so sorry I ever told you I was. I haven’t been there for you. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently. I really would.”

You avoided his gaze and looked down, pulling your hand away. His touch still felt wrong, and thinking about his kiss in the undercroft made you just as uneasy. Everything was so backwards, your mind couldn’t keep up. Not long ago, Garreth was the one being kind to you while Sebastian was itching to get as far away from you as possible. And now, Garreth had you repulsed and Sebastian had an avid interest to be by your side. You were in a constant state of confusion and had a strange desire for things to go back to how they were.

“Sebastian...” Your defenses went up as he moved closer to you, wanting to show you he was listening. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t believe you. All year you’ve dreaded being around me and now I’m supposed to believe your feelings changed just like that?”

Sebastian nodded his head, seeing what you were saying. He shouldn’t have expected you to be okay with all this just because he said so. “I understand. I’ve been awful to you. But I can make it all up to you, you’ll see. I can be what you want.”

You tried to search his eyes for some sort of reason for this shift in him, still not really taking in his words. “I think I need some space.” You were sick of boys playing with your feelings like this. There was only so much you could take. Pretty impressive trait of Hufflepuffs, anyone else would have felt worn thin ages ago.

Sebastian swallowed thickly and nodded his head. He forced a polite smile and left at the nearest floo.

He needs his space too. You thought. That way he’ll get over these feelings he supposedly has for you. You didn’t believe him for a second. You’ve seen other students swooning over each other. It definitely wasn’t what was happening between you and Sebastian Sallow. The only experiences you’ve had with him were secret meetings and him getting humiliated if someone associated the two of you together. He expected all that to just go away with one secret kiss? It wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe he went after someone else and they rejected him, and he was so desperate for affection he came to me. You concluded.

-

The days that followed, Sebastian kept his distance from you without really keeping his distance. Every morning, he got up early to get a flower from the fields surrounding Hogwarts, each one different than the day before. Whenever you got up from your desk or left your books unattended, he would cast the disillusionment spell on himself and place the flower in your book for you to stumble across later.

He didn’t need to see your reaction to it, but every now and then if you were in the same area, he’d be on the lookout for it. Sebastian watched from afar as you began looking through your book on a bench in the Transfiguration Courtyard. But his blood started to boil when he saw Garreth make his way over and sit down next to you. 

You looked up from your book, a questioning look on your face. 

Garreth was visibly nervous and wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. My mother raised me better than that.” 

You hummed as you looked across his features, noticing he was bruised up like Sebastian was. “What happened to you?”

Garreth scratched the back of his head. “Got some sense knocked into me by your friend, Sallow.”

“He’s not my friend.” You said plainly, trying to bring your attention back to your book. A part of you was annoyed Sebastian had actually followed through with going after Garreth, and another part was a little pleased the both of them landed strikes on the other.

He looked to your face then. “I really do like you, you know.” He confessed, and you returned his gaze. He was looking at you like he was sorry this wasn’t what he had said to you in the first place. “But I felt the pressure of everyone, and I told myself I should be embarrassed to be around you. But I’m not. Everyone else can sod off, I can see everything you’re doing even if they refuse to. You’re nothing short of incredible. I truly am sorry for what I said.”

You gave him a small nod. “Apology accepted.”

He smiled and let out a sigh of relief, then held out his hand. “Friends?”

You took it and shook. “Friends.”

He held your hand in his when you tried to pull away. “Don’t suppose that date to Three Broomsticks is still on the table?”

You scoffed but went silent when you saw he was serious. You shook your head and pulled your hand from his grasp.

“Right.” He looked down dejectedly. “Guess I deserved that, didn’t I?” He chuckled awkwardly, getting up and clearing his throat. “I’ll see you around then.” His voice was strained.

Sebastian watched as Garreth left you and made his way over to him. The red head gave him a cordial slap on the shoulder as he walked passed. “Looks like we both blew it, Sallow.” 

-

You hated to admit it, but Sebastian was making some headway with you. It had been at least a few weeks since you told him you needed space, and he had given it to you. You thought it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to do, but he looked like he was struggling. Every time you caught each other’s eye, he looked like he was holding his breath, hoping that would be the day you’d approach him. You thought it’d wear off after a bit, and the distance between the two of you would have him come to his senses. But he seemed undeterred, just as dedicated as the day before if not more so.

You especially hated to admit that every time you found a flower in your books, the flutter in your chest would grow. Each time you needed to talk yourself down, because any day now Sebastian would give up and go back to only wanting to see you about his progress on getting a cure for Anne. 

But then you’d think about how he kissed you. There was so much need in it. In the moment it felt off. But the more your revisited the memory, thinking back on how his lips moved against yours, you got this feeling of being genuinely wanted, perfectly safe. And that sense came from Sebastian Sallow of all people?

You watched him as he took notes in charms class. He was pretty good looking, wasn’t he? You came to notice these passed few weeks now that he was being kind to you. 

He looked up from his notes and glanced your way. You held his gaze when he did, giving him a soft smile. His eyes grew wide and he became fidgety in his seat. He smiled back and his ears burned red. It was the most he’d gotten from you and he didn’t know how to handle it. 

You looked back down to your notes and he looked back down at his, trying to contain his giddiness. He felt like he made a huge leap in progress and he couldn’t wait to keep going. It was just a smile, but it was the only sign he needed that he was headed in the right direction with you. He wondered if he should keep going with the flowers or step it up a bit. He wanted to respect your wishes and keep his distance, but he also wanted to do more for you.

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice you approach when class was dismissed. “Sebastian?”

He stiffened, panic flooding through him. He was mentally preparing to chase after you from afar, he didn’t think he’d have the right words to say face to face yet. But he willed himself to speak anyway. “Yes?”

“Walk with me to herbology?” You eyed him, like you were testing him.

Sebastian knew what you were doing, this would be the first time he’d be seen with you in public willingly and not act like he was being forced to speak with you. Bring it on. “Of course.” Sebastian grabbed your books and smiled at your surprised expression. “Come on then.”

You joined his side and as you walked with him, you noticed he wasn’t rushing. He was taking his time getting to your next class. You had to admit, you expected him to want to speed up the process to get it over with and minimize the amount of people who saw the two of you together. But instead, he let himself look smitten as he stood by your side.

The whispers and glances started up as the two of you walked along. He looked to you and noticed you didn’t seem quite as at ease as he was. He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder and you couldn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. He was making butterflies dance in your stomach and a funny ache for him grew. You peeked back at him and the way he was smiling at you made you want to tug at his tie and have him kiss you senseless again. Calm down, don’t let him win you over yet. You lectured yourself.

When the two of you arrived in herbology, he made sure to grab a potting station next to yours. Professor Garlick called everyone up to grab some seeds for the day’s class. As you were about to go up with everyone else, he wrapped an arm around your waist to stop you. “I’ll get it.” He said in a low tone near your ear. His hand lingered and dragged across your waist until he was too far to touch you anymore. He shot you a smirk over his shoulder as he walked away.

That funny ache you felt turned into something simmering hot within you. When he came back with the mallowsweet seeds, he took your hand in his and placed them on your palm. His fingers dragged across your hand and you peered at him through your lashes. 

“Be careful.” He said, releasing you and turning to his potting station. “You look like you want to kiss me.”

A burning sensation hit your cheeks and you turned to your own station. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Silly me then.” 

The two of you focused, or at least tried to, on your pots before you. You planted the seeds and padded down the soil, then awaited further instruction from Professor Garlick. But you tuned her words out as you eyed Sebastian up and down. Thankfully, you were already experienced with mallowsweet, so you weren’t too concerned about falling behind.

Sebastian watched you through the corner of his eye, he could feel your eyes on him and it drove him mad. As soon as class was over, he was going to try to reenact the first time he demanded your help. Except this time when he pulled you into a hidden corner, there wouldn’t be as much talking. His jaw clenched at the anticipation.

You usually enjoyed herbology, but that day’s class was dragging on a little too long. Your mind billowed with thoughts of Sebastian’s lips and ideas of how you were going to get them back on yours.

“Class dismissed.” Professor Garlick sang. You and Sebastian immediately looked to one another, knowing exactly what you wanted to do, but unsure how you were going to get there.

“I think I -” You began, not really knowing where you were going to take your words. “I think I left something in the undercroft.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything as he grabbed your hand and pulled you along. 

Once the two of you arrived in the undercroft, he closed the gate behind you and pressed you up against the nearest wall, slamming his mouth against yours. The two of you wanted to devour each other whole. A muffled moan escaped you and you cupped his face in your hands. His hands gripped your hips greedily as he tried to savor every sound he could get from you.

Unable to keep in one place long with so much of you available to him, he began kissing along your jaw, down your neck, below your ear. He could feel you quiver at his kisses and he wanted to do everything he could to keep you squirming.

You whimpered, and he knew he found the spot below your ear to be your weakness. “I... I think we left our books in herbology.” You breathed pleasantly as he kept at it.

Sebastian hummed as he continued his magic. “Such a shame.” He knew he still had a ways to go with you. No matter how long it would take him, he was going to make things right. But if he could tempt you into a kiss here and there along the way, he hoped you wouldn’t mind.

[artiststarme]

From Alibi to Reality

A little something different, I hope you guys like it! Title brought to you by @nburkhardt. Please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve knew he was going to act as Eddie’s beard for the cops and the town. That was a no-brainer, it was the only way to clear Eddie’s name. He discussed it with Hopper, the kids, and Robin. Everyone determined that the shock factor of Steve “The Hair” Harrington dating the town freak was the only thing that was going to change Powell’s mind and make him drop the charges. The thing no one could agree on was how to broach the subject. 

Dustin thought that telling the police directly would be the best way, Robin thought they should build up to the declaration, and Nancy thought it was a stupid idea because no one would believe that lady-killer Steve Harrington was into a guy (little did she know). Regardless, all of his friends thought talking was the best course to take. 

But Steve was a man of action, not words. All of the Party’s plans involved discussing their “relationship” like civilized adults. The problem was though, they weren’t talking to civilized adults. They were talking to his brother, a known dumbass, and the new Chief of Police that wanted to hunt down a bunch of kids because Jason fucking Carver told him to. 

So he was going to handle this the way he handled every shitty situation thrown his way. He was going to wing it. It had worked for him thus far and it hadn’t failed him yet. So, for the rest of the Party’s meeting, Steve zoned out. He thought about how fucked he was going to be when his parents found out about this, how much shit he’d have to take from the rest of the town, and how ostracised he’d be. But it was the only way to clear Eddie’s name. 

Eddie had jumped into the lake after him and saved his life before protecting Dustin from demobats. He was a part of the Party now and Steve would do anything to protect the Party. So, he was fine with ruining his reputation and probably being disowned by his parents for  tainting the Harrington name. As long as Eddie was okay in the end, nothing else mattered. 

~*~*~*~

They neglected to tell Eddie the plan. He hadn’t seen any of the Party members since the police realized he was being treated at the hospital and barred anyone from seeing him until they questioned him. He was just minding his own business, ignoring the two doofus cops trying to question him, and looking forward to whatever the Party came up with to clear his name. Eddie wasn’t sure if whatever their plan was was going to work or even if they meant what they’d said. However, he had hope. Mostly because the only other option would be joining his dad in a cell for murders he didn’t even commit. 

That’s when it happened. Steve stormed into his hospital room with a flourish, slamming the door against the wall and scaring the two cops. 

Eddie watched as the tall one’s eyes narrowed, “Steve, you better have a good explanation for this one-“

He didn’t pay attention to what else was said. One minute, he was looking at an angry Harrington walking into his room and the next, said Harrington was kissing him. On the lips! 

Mother of fuck, Eddie had died and gone to heaven because all of his dreams were coming true. He didn’t know what Steve was playing at but Eddie wasn’t complaining. He just slipped his eyes closed and kissed him back with equal fervor.

He was pulled from their passionate kissing by a loud, “Son of a bitch, Steve! The murderer?! What the fuck? I thought your taste was bad when you were dating the priss but now this? Jesus Fuck, bro!”

“Officer Callahan, please maintain your composure.”

“My composure?!” His voice was shrill as he shrieked in his own defense. “Powell, my brother is macking on fucking Munson! What the fuck? How am I supposed to maintain my composure?!”

Eddie pulled away from Steve, “your brother is Officer Callahan?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that not come up when you were defiling my baby brother?!” Callahan yelled at him, waving his hands in the air maniacally. 

“No, actually. It didn’t,” Eddie told him. 

Callahan let out a sound of frustration before pointing at Steve, letting out another frustrated noise, and stalking out. Steve and Eddie turned to Powell who just looked tired. 

“I assume this is why you wouldn’t tell us your alibi for the night of the murder, Munson?” He sighed. 

“That’s right, there was no way in hell I was going to out my boyfriend. Apparently he does it himself though,” Eddie gave Steve the side eye. Why had he chosen to do this? He’d known the guy for like two weeks and he was just throwing his life away to protect Eddie. What the hell?

Powell turned to Steve, “is that true? Mr. Munson was with you the night that Chrissy Cunningham was murdered?”

“That’s right. We were watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Alien before going to bed. He stayed the whole night laying in bed next to me, there’s no way he could’ve murdered anybody,” Steve nodded. 

Powell just shook his head at them, “fine, Munson. I’m clearing you but don’t leave town.” 

“I won’t sir, thank you for doing your due diligence. It was at my expense but still, thanks,” Eddie said sarcastically. 

He shot them one last disbelieving look before following his partner. Then all that was left was Eddie and Steve. 

Eddie whipped his head around to Steve. “Now what the hell was that?!”

“Hey! Don’t talk to your boyfriend that way!”

“Seriously Steve-”

“Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t kiss me again in the next twenty seconds, I’ll go get Powell and tell him I changed my mind,” Steve threatened him with narrowed eyes. 

How was Eddie supposed to refuse him after that?

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @straight4joekeery @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @pnk-lemonades @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24

@strangerthingfanfic @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @futuristicnachostranger @breadboi66

[moonlight-prose]

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw. 

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end. 

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

[deckerstarblanche]

CSSNS 2024 Entry!!!!!

Hello, friends! After a year and some change, I’m finally back with the conclusion to “An Offer She Can’t Refuse.”

I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3

As soon as he cracked his eyes open the next morning, Killian knew she was gone. With a frustrated groan, he glared up at the stucco ceiling and flipped over onto his stomach, pressing his face into her pillow and feeling like a fool.

Really, he should have expected this from the beginning. Knowing Emma, her heat had probably finished sometime in the early hours that morning, she took a look at where she was, and who she was with, and bolted.

It’s not like she would go to me as a first choice, he thought to himself. And so Killian closed his eyes, allowing him to feel the hurt and the anguish and the pain, until he stuffed them back down into the part of his brain, where he’d stored all of his worst thoughts about himself for so many years.

And it did hurt, a lot. He knew, deep in his gut, that they were supposed to be together. Her shell of self-protection might be too tough to crack, though. For him, Emma Swan – her laugh, the intoxicating sweet scent that he would be able to pick out blindfolded – would always be his ideal. Now that he had had the chance to actually be with her physically, Killian felt like he’d been granted access to heaven for three glorious days. How could any other woman compare?

Pathetically, he hoped that one day they could still be friends.

When he finally set foot back inside the dorms, the clean, familiarly blank scent in the air confirmed that the filtration system was running smoothly. It was almost as if the past three days had been neutralized as well, leaving only a possibly ruined friendship in its wake.

“Jones? Where the hell have you been?” David asked, concerned etched on his face as Killian entered their room, aggressively tossing his backpack onto his bed.

He narrowed his eyes at David’s suspicious tone, hackles raised. The other man clearly knew something, probably from Emma herself.

“Did you not get the update from your girlfriend?” Killian sneered, unable to resist recklessly channeling all of his pain and anger toward his roommate. “After she got what she wanted, Emma chewed me up and spat me out! Well, I don’t want to talk about it, and I’ll know that you're lying if you tell me otherwise…”

David’s surprise quickly morphed into hostility, and he rose from his computer desk. “What exactly are you accusing me of? Are you gonna cry because a woman finally rejected you? That’s why you don’t fuck around with your friends!” he roared back, forcefully pushing Killian in the chest.

“She needed it– she begged for it, Dave. What kind of a self-respecting Alpha would I be if I said no? It doesn’t matter if it’s your best friend or a complete stranger, right? You’ve got some experience with that yourself, don’t you, eh?” he said crudely, shoving David back as soon as he regained his footing.

“What the hell does that mean? If you want me to kick your ass, say one more thing about Mary Margaret…” David replied in a growl, putting his fists up.

Killian laughed, ready to hit something, preferably David’s face. “Listen, I’m done with every Omega at this school, especially Emma Swan. I’m not the simpering asshole she seems to think I am, and she can come apologize to me if she wants to go back to being ‘just friends.’” he sneered, building a wall of his own ego around his fragile heart.

David put his fists down, hands angrily balled at his sides.

“Fuck you, Jones. If you don’t have enough sense to fight for Emma, then you don’t deserve her!” David thundered, hurling the door open and slamming it shut behind him so hard that the wood nearly cracked off the hinges.

———-

About an hour later, after he had cooled down from his argument with David, Killian heard a hesitant knock on the door. Hoping it was Emma, but unsure, he got up to open it. There she was, standing awkwardly in front of him, shoving her hands in and out of her pockets.

“Killian, I came by to apologize. My leaving wasn’t your fault. I was a coward, so I’ll understand if—” Emma began, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t get to do that— slink off like everything has been said. I was hurt that you’d left without a trace, and I let that morph into anger. A man’s ego is a fragile thing, Swan…but I want to be a better person than that,” he told her, his blue eyes locked on hers with a penetrating gaze.

Taking a deep breath, he continued.

“Emma. The truth is, I care deeply for you. I have since the first day we met, so when you said that friendship was all you desired, I made my peace with that. But after what we shared last week, I knew that watching from the sidelines would never be enough.”

Killian looked away as soon as Emma did, color rushing to his cheeks. He readied himself for rejection: that speech, no matter how inauthentic it would sound about another woman, would definitely have anyone else melting in my arms, he thought to himself, barely suppressing a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” he heard a small voice say, and he looked back at Emma, whose eyes were glittering with what looked like tears.

“Nothing, love. I’ve said my piece, and now I’ll give you your space. Hold on, why are you crying?” he asked her cautiously, furrowing his brow.

“I’m not crying, you idiot, I’m just emotional over what you said– there’s a difference!” Emma replied with a watery chuckle, raking her fingers through her hair.

Killian decided to throw caution to the wind.

“And what was it that I said? I want to know so that I can say it again,” he told her, summoning up his most rakish grin.

Emma rolled her eyes, but he knew from the way she blushed that things would be ok for them— maybe even better than ok. She hadn’t spurned him, and she hadn’t stormed out.

“Killian, I care about you too. I cared so much after our…um, time together last week that I freaked out. Big emotions are tough for me, you know that,” Emma admitted, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets.

“I do know that, Swan. I think that’s why we’ve worked so well as friends— we’re both godawful at expressing our feelings,” he began, drawing a few steps closer to her. Emma looked at him with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights, but he wasn’t going to be put off by that anymore.

“Emma, I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never shared with anyone else before,” he murmured, close enough now that he could tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She was so attuned to him that she gasped at the innocent contact, making him smile.

“Being with you was the most intimate I’ve ever been, with anybody. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before, and I don’t want anyone else in my bed but you.”

Terrifyingly, Emma was silent, her gaze dropping away from his and going to the floor. Killian felt like his heart was pounding loud enough for her to hear, and that humiliation was imminent.

“Emma, I’m—” he began, but she looked back up, a huge smile lighting up her face. She flung herself forward into his arms, pressing her lips to his, kissing him with what felt like years of pent-up emotion. Then, she pulled away, almost reluctantly.

“I don’t wanna talk. I mean, I know we have a lot to say to each other, but not right now. Just kiss me, ok?” she said breathlessly, tearing off her jacket. Killian barely had time to agree before she nearly jumped into his arms, the force of her excitement knocking them over onto his bed. Clothes were shed quickly, and soon enough he was hovering over her, admiring her golden hair as it spilled out over his pillow.

After one more searing kiss, he rose up, sitting back on his heels as he stroked his hands down her thighs. Emma shivered violently under his touch, as a rush of slick coated her inner thighs from the fairly innocent gesture.

“Oh Killian, please do that again,” Emma sighed, opening her knees wider. Surprised, he let his hands glide from the tops of her thighs all the way down to her knees, watching rapturously as she thrashed beneath him. Every attempt she made to raise her pelvis, to seek him out, was caught by Killian’s firm but gentle grip as he grounded her to the mattress.

“Do you think you could come just from this, love?” he asked, breathing harshly, as it was taking every ounce of his self control not to sheath himself inside her pulsing cunt.

“I…I’m not sure,” she admitted, opening her eyes as she reached up, grabbing the hair on the back of his head to smash her lips against his.

Emma’s kiss was electric and confident, and it made him thank whatever higher power existed in the universe that she’d given him another chance. When she finally tore her lips away, he felt dizzy with anticipation.

“Fuck me, Alpha,” she commanded, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving it under her ass. Killian’s eyes lit up with amusement at her take-charge attitude, but he was soon distracted by a small warm hand shooting out to stroke his rock-hard length.

“As you wish, Emma, always,” he purred, and without another thought, he plunged in, savoring the feeling of being inside of her again.

They matched each other stroke for stroke, and as the room filled with the sounds of their frantic coupling, Killian realized that it was her first time fucking him with a clear head. She was choosing him, and not out of any desperation.

He was determined to make it last as long as possible, so after a few more thrusts, he rolled them so that Emma was on top, her long hair surrounding them like a curtain. She yelped in surprise, but quickly gained control, setting her own rhythm as she clutched at his chest.

“I seem to remember liking this view of you in particular,” he teased, reaching up to gather her hair with one hand while kissing up the long column of her neck.

“Is that so?” Emma asked breathlessly, moaning as he hit a spot deep inside of her, pinpointing it so he could press up into her as many times as he could. “Fuck, yes… keep going right there, please!”

From the way her inner muscles fluttered against him, he could tell that it wouldn’t be too much longer before she came, so he kept his pace brisk, giving her exactly what she needed. Moments later, Emma exploded, shouting his name as she clamped down like a vise, spasming multiple times. He’d felt it during her heat too, but never with anyone else.

“So fucking tight you are, Emma…so gorgeous when you come,” he praised, murmuring in her ear as she came back to herself, dazed and sated.

“You’re the gorgeous one,” she mumbled, “all of the girls on my floor talk about you like a sex god.”

“And what, pray tell, would you tell them after all of this time we’ve spent together?” Killian asked her playfully, nudging his erection against her inner thigh.

“Hmm…well, I’d definitely mention your impressive stamina,” she quipped, pumping her hand up and down his shaft.

“And then I’d tell them that they’d never find out for themselves because you’re MY Alpha,”

The sound of those words coming out of her mouth set Killian’s libido on fire. Quicker than lightning, he flipped her over on the mattress.

“If I’m your Alpha, that makes you my Omega, does it not?” Killian thundered, using a tone that their kind referred to as uniquely Alpha. While it may have been used in the past to force Omegas to submit, contemporary couples used it to spice up bedroom play.

“Yes!” she squeaked with delight, lifting herself up to hands and knees.

“Then present for your Alpha,” he ordered, slapping her on the ass. Immediately, she knelt, pressing her chest down as she sank further back onto her heels.

“Is this what you wanted, Alpha?” she asked sweetly, playing along with the game, which was about mutual consent rather than domination.

“Bloody perfect,” he growled, easing himself into her channel inch by inch, trying to prolong the moment they gave themselves to each other.

They were both so keyed up, emotionally and physically, from the events of the day that Emma cried out almost immediately, unable to stave off a powerful orgasm. Killian held on, pumping into her with determination to satisfy her as much as he could.

“I want your knot, and if you’re really an Alpha, you’ll give it to me,” Emma faux-jeered from below, all a part of the game.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Killian bit out, watching as drops of his sweat beaded on her back.

“You fucking know it!” she shouted, clenching down on him as encouragement. It was an almost primal moment, the two of them acting on instinct instead of emotions; and moments later, he was coming, locking their bodies together as streams of cum filled her womb.

It took awhile for them both to come back to Earth, floating in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss. Killian felt her sigh contentedly, burrowing a bit closer as he covered them in his downy comforter.

“I’m so glad it’s you, Killian,” Emma told him sleepily, looking back so she could kiss him one last time. He smiled into her neck, gathering her into his arms with a feeling of completeness and affection.

“I couldn’t agree more, love.”

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt28

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

----------

Eventually, Jackie got up and went to his own room so he and Marvin could get ready. Marvin wasn’t sure what they were going to do with the day given what happened the previous. He could hide away in the library, finish his book, and then return to his research. 

He was curious about that chaos magic that was talked about. Did his own magic have a title like that? It was just…magic? Nothing in his head nor his studies gave a name outside of spell names and even then the names were just what the spell literally did. A fire spell was casting fire, ice was ice, electricity was electricity, and so on and so on. Maybe Marvin could tap into that chaotic magic and use it against that new Ego. He didn’t care anymore about ‘bringing him to the Manor’, this was about getting even. That Iplier tried to scare him with magic. 

Marvin would make that man know what a real magic user could do. 

Leaving his bedroom, Marvin witnessed a crying Robbie running into his own room with Anti following and stopping when the door slammed in his face. 

“Robbo, buddy, it’s gonna be fine,” Anti said as he knocked on the door. He tried the knob and found that it was locked. “Let me in.”

“No!” Robbie’s voice wailed from the other side of the door. “I don’t like it!” 

“Is everything okay?” Jackie asked, coming out of his room when he heard the slam. 

“Henrik and Chase started arguing,” Anti explained. “They’re in Hen’s office and Robbie overheard them. He doesn’t like the parents being angry to any degree. Hell, it throws him off even when he’s an adult.” 

“What are they fighting about?” Marvin asked. 

“All the shit that happened yesterday. Chase wants you two to continue looking for the new Iplier but Henrik wants to wait.” Anti knocked on the door again. 

“Go away!” Robbie cried out. 

“I don’t know where the hell JJ is or I’d be having him make some cookies or something.” Anti pressed his forehead against the door. “Jackie’s out here, do you want up-ups?” 

“No!” 

“Damn.” 

“He must be really upset if he doesn’t want up-ups,” Jackie said. 

“I’m telling Henrik and Chase to chill. I don’t like seeing Robbie sad like this.” Marvin started down the hall. 

“I don’t know if you should do that.” Jackie jogged for a second and caught up with Marvin. 

“They just need to show Robbie that things are fine and then they can go back to this domestic dispute.” Marvin turned the corner. 

“But what if you end up in the argument instead, then Robbie will get super upset.” 

“Oh, they don’t want me involved in an argument. I will ruin their day.” Marvin stopped in front of Henrik’s office door. “I can get very creative with my insults.” 

“That primary color one for Dark is on my top ten list,” Jackie admitted with a light chuckle. 

“See? It’s going to be-” Marvin opened the door and froze. Henrik and Chase started yelling and Marvin just closed the door, paralyzed with shock. 

“Marv? Dude? Marvin?” Jackie waved a hand in front of Marvin’s face. “What did you see?”

“I saw Henrik’s ass,” Marvin stated and Anti, who had decided to join them, broke out in a loud laugh.

“You saw Henrik’s ass?” Jackie echoed. 

“JJ was right when he said they were just one argument away from getting together.” Marvin was still stuck in place. “And Henrik’s going to need disinfectant for his desk.”

“Why would he-oh my, God!” Jackie yelped as he finally caught on. “I did not need that mental image!”

“I’m the one that had to witness it!” Marvin finally snapped out of his paralyzation.

“Mom and Dad finally hooked up,” Anti said into his phone. 

“Who are you calling?” Marvin asked while Jackie pressed his hands to the wall and leaned over like he had been punched in the stomach. 

“JJ. Have to fill him in, duh.” Anti answered and then went back to his call. “Yeah, Marvin walked in on them. Jackie’s having a breakdown. They’re in the office, so you owe me ten bucks.” 

“I need something stronger than tea this morning.” Marvin groaned. 

“Would you all stop acting like the world is over?” Henrik snapped as he stepped out of the room. 

“You need a lock for your office,” Marvin stated. 

“Have any of you ever considered knocking?” Chase fumbled out of the room right after.

“Your fly’s undone,” Anti stated. Jackie slapped his hands over his eyes while Chase’s eyes went wide and he slipped back into the room. 

“I’ve been traumatized,” Jackie’s voice came out strained.

“I feel like I got the worst of it,” Marvin said. “I can never go into that room again unless it reeks of bleach.” 

“I’m going to let Robbie know that mommy and daddy aren’t fighting anymore,” Anti said, hanging up the phone. “And JJ said he’s about to walk through the front door.” 

“We should have a family meeting about what to do with the whole new Iplier thing.” Chase came back out of the room, clothing fixed and in place. 

“Pants stay on the whole time,” Marvin said, getting Jackie to groan in pain. 

“We are never going to hear the end of this, are we?” Chase sighed. 

“No.” Anti and Marvin said together. The two looked at each other, made sour faces, and then turned to walk down opposite ends of the hall. Anti made his way back to Robbie’s room and Marvin went to the living room. 

“Marv?” Jackie lowered his hands and found himself alone with Chase and Henrik. He did not want that and he scampered away to go to the living room with Marvin. 

“Morning, JJ.” Marvin greeted as JJ walked into the House. 

“Morning.” JJ greeted back with a smile. 

“Did you go to a candy shop or something? You smell really, like, sugary?” Jackie asked. 

“I did.” JJ showed the bubblegum in his mouth by blowing a small bubble. “And yes, I got you some.” He handed an unopened pack of gum to Jackie. 

“Sweet!” Jackie eagerly opened the pack, pulling out two pieces before pocketing it. He popped one piece in his mouth and offered the other to Marvin.

“Thank you.” Marvin took the gum and popped it into his mouth as well. “Chase says we’re going to talk about the new Ego.” 

“Looks like I made it home just in time.” JJ chuckled. 

“You missed the show,” Marvin said as he went for the couch. 

“Don’t remind me of it,” Jackie whined, sprawling himself across the couch first and laughing when Marvin didn’t miss a beat and sat on his back.

“Anti told me the whole thing.” JJ waited until both Marvin's and Jackie’s backs were to him before adjusting his shirt collar, making sure that his neck was properly covered. 

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Deception [Part 1]

Mysterio x Reader | Read the original here

This is an AU universe of the MCU Spider-Man.  The reader is a female version of Spider-Man and is an adult who is an Avenger.  Characters are pretty much the same, just a few AU adjustments.  This story closely follows the plot of Far From Home.  

a/n:  the reader was not dusted during the Blip.  I kept the Parker last name just out of personal preference (sorry if that ruins it for you lol), no I haven't decided if Mysterio is actually a villain or not that’s a decision I will make if I decide to continue the story.  I am not including the E.D.I.T.H. glasses in this AU.

~~~

You sat on top of a high building overlooking the city in front of you.  You could hear horns honking and the flutter of bat wings.  People chattered below you.  It felt nice to finally be home for good.  The events of the past five years had taken a serious tole on your mental health.  You had watched your mentor sacrifice his own life in order to make sure your biggest foe was gone for good.  It was hard knowing many of the heroes you had looked up to at a young age were gone forever.  You were one of the few remaining members of the Avengers left on Earth.  Many of them decided to go somewhere else to protect the universe.  But you stayed here.  

You were only sixteen when Tony recruited you for the Avengers.  You were twenty-one now.  An adult.  But you did not feel like an adult.  You still felt like the same scared little kid who almost got killed by Thanos a couple years ago.  You sometimes wake up from reliving that nightmare.  The feeling of getting thrown and slammed onto the ground.  The feeling of air escaping your lungs and not being able to return.  Your vision going blurry.  It was all still too real for you.  It was one of your weakest moments.  You felt like you had let everyone down in that moment.  If the others had not been there you would be dead.  You knew that.  But that was the point of having a team.  Stronger in numbers.

You continued staring out at the illuminating city.  You sometimes wish you had never been bit by that spider that day.  Things could have been so much simpler.   That was a stupid thought.  You remembered idolizing Iron Man as a child.  You always wanted to protect the world as he did.  He inspired you to be a better person.  He inspired you to want to help others.  He still inspired you today.  His sacrifice was a statement to the world that heroes would do anything to protect them.  

Suddenly, you felt your phone begin vibrating.  You grabbed it from your pocket.  It was Happy.  You picked up, “Hey, Hap.  What’s up, man?”  “Come back home, we have to talk about something,” Happy spoke through the phone.  You were concerned, “Okay.  I am on my way.  Is everything okay?”  Happy mumbled into the phone, “We will talk more when you get here.”  He hung up.  It worried you that Happy was speaking so fast and was fast to hang up.  You pulled your mask over your face and jumped off the building.

You landed on top of the building next to your apartment building.  You triple checked to make sure no one was around.  You crawled down the wall and hid behind the dumpster.  You took off your suit and threw it into the bag you had hidden, throwing it over your shoulder once the suit was hidden.  You climbed up the wall, reaching your window and crawling inside.  You threw your bag onto the bed and continued into the living room to see Happy sitting with your Uncle.  They were both smiling and laughing about something.  You cleared your throat, “I’m home.”  Happy and Uncle Ben turned to you.  Uncle Ben rose from the couch, “Hi, honey!  I am so glad you are home.  Happy and I were just catching up.”  You smiled at him.  But your smile quickly shifted when you began to address Happy, “What was it you needed to talk to me about, Happy?”  Happy smiled at you, “Sorry for the rush on the phone, Y/N.  I had just arrived here and I did not want to be rude to Ben.”  You exhaled a sigh of relief, “Happy!  You scared me.  I thought something was seriously wrong.”  Happy chuckled, “Sorry about that.  Now.  As I told Ben, we should be expecting a visitor soon.”  You were confused, “What do you mean a vi-”

There was a knock at the door.  Happy walked over and opened it to reveal Nick Fury standing in your doorway.  You shuttered.  “Now, I want to know why you are so hard to get in contact with, Miss Parker,” Fury began.  “I-I’ve been really busy,” you defended.  “Happy tells me you have been dodging my calls.  You shot a look at Happy.  “Don’t look at me like that, he’s my boss too,” Happy acknowledged your look.  “I don’t care about how you feel about me trying to contact you, Miss Parker.  You are an Avenger and I do not take kindly to someone not acting like it,” Fury shut down your dismay quickly.  You stared at the man in front of you.  He was right.  You had not been acting like an Avenger lately.  Truly.  You did not want to act like one.  You enjoyed getting to relax after watching everyone else leave.  You felt alone as an Avenger.  Fury was right.  You needed to begin acting like an Avenger.  “There will be a car here to pick you up at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning.  I suggest you don’t keep me waiting any longer.  I have someone for you to meet,” he was stern with his statement.  “Yes, sir,” you agreed.  “Now, since you made me come all the way here to get you, where can a brother get a drink,” Fury spoke.  

Fury and Happy were gone.  It was late.  You sat in the dim lit living room alone.  You hunched over your phone that laid on the table in front of you.  You stared at the picture of you and Tony.  Any time with Tony was a fun time.  You idolized the man.  He made you into the hero you are.  “What would he think of you like this,” you whispered to yourself.  You had been down lately.  What Tony did was marvelous.  You could never be like him.  He was the hero the world needed.  You are just some weird girl who can stick to stuff.  You felt your eyes begin to fill a little.  “Everything okay,” Uncle Ben sat down next to you.  You looked at him, “I’m fine.  Just thinking.”  He knew you were lying.  You could see it on his face.  He wrapped one of his arms around you, “I’m here if you need me, kiddo.”  You rested your head on his shoulder, “Thanks, Ben.”  

~

You did not sleep the night before.  You had began to take a shower, but instead you sat in the tub thinking about what tomorrow would hold.  You sat there for quite sometime thinking before you realized you needed to get out and get ready.  It was 4:45 now.  You grabbed your suit and put it on.  You had contemplated whether or not to wear the suit.  You decided it was best to.  You never knew who you could trust anymore.  You wrote Uncle Ben a note that read “Time for super stuff, love you.”  You knew he would understand.  He always understood.  You pulled your mask over your face and climbed out the window.  It was chilly out this early.  5 a.m. arrived and a large black vehicle arrived promptly.  You were escorted into the back where Nick Fury sat.  He eyeballed you, “Why the suit, kid?”  You were embarrassed under the mask, “I don’t know who I can trust, so I thought I shou-” “Don’t be an idiot.  Anyone I would bring into our headquarters is someone you can trust.  You know that,” he cut you off.  You shook your head in agreement, but did not remove the mask.  Despite everything, you felt unsafe.  Something felt off about the whole situation.  Your Spider-Sense was telling you so.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, you were in the secret headquarters.  Fury got out of the vehicle, you were close behind.  You followed him, passing many workers.  You did not recognize them.  They were all basically strangers to you.  It felt wrong.  You felt like you should not be here.  You and Fury entered the elevator together.  It went down many floors.  “Kid, you don’t have to be so tense.  I would not let anyone in here who could hurt you,” Fury reassured.  He could tell you were nervous.  You nodded.  

“Now then,” the elevator opened and you both stepped out, “Spider-Girl, I’d like you to meet Mr. Beck.”  A tall man in a cape stood in front of you.  He smiled, “So, you’re the one everyone has been telling me about.  It’s a pleasure.”  He extended his hand.  You placed your hand in his.  He leaned in and whispered, “You can call me Quentin.”  You shook his hand, “Hi.  H-Hold on.  I-I’m sorry, but are you the guy from the news?”  He chuckled, “Yeah, that’s me.  Wishing I had hidden my identity better.  But I thought it would help people to have a face with their hero.”  You snapped your fingers while trying to remember, “Now then, what was it they called you?  Mysterio?”  He smiled, “Yep.  That’s the name they’ve given me.”  You were amazed at the man in front of you.  He had came out of no where and was already loved and adored by the public.  You were always seen as a menace.  

Fury coughed, “If you two are finished...”  You and Quentin directed your attention to him.  “Now then.  We have been informed that there have been spikes in energy all across the globe.  I have decided that the two of you would be the best fit in handling this situation.  Spider-Girl, as one of the last remaining members of the Avengers, you will be heading the mission,” Fury was serious.  You shook your head in disbelief, “Wait.  Wait, isn’t there anyone else you can call on.  I’ve never really soloed a mission before.”  Fury furrowed his brows, “You are going to head this mission.”  “What about Carol?  Thor?  Any of the Guardians?  They are all way more qualified than I am,” you argued.  “They all have more important things to do.  But you, all you’ve been doing is swinging around this city stopping petty crime.  Now, as your superior, I am telling you what you will be doing.  I suggest you do not give me anymore lip about it.  You’re walking a fine line with me already.  Tony is not here to protect you anymore.  You have to learn to protect yourself,” Fury’s tone was growing frustrated.  You stood in silence.  “Do I make myself clear,” he asserted.  You nodded, “Yes sir.”  

You spent the next several hours discussing plans.  Where these anomalies were happening.  The best plan of attack.  This panicked you more than anything.  A huge responsibility was being put on your shoulders.  You did not know anything about this mission.  Nothing made sense.  It was all too convenient.  After the discussions were done, Fury directed you and Quentin further, “I got the two of you a hotel room.  There are two beds.  It will help the two of your bond to be that close.  You two need to get to know each other pretty well in order for this mission to succeed.”  “Wonderful,” you thought.  All you were wanting was to be alone.  You shook your head in agreement.  “I’m going to go out for a bit.  I need to think alone for a while,” you excused yourself.  Quentin smiled, “I’ll see you later.”

You sat on top of a building.  You seemed to do this a lot.  You loved admiring the city.  It was beautiful especially at night.  Suddenly, Quentin appeared in front of you.  You were not alarmed.  “What’s up, Spider-Girl,” he questioned as he sat down beside you.  His helmet disappeared revealing his handsome face once again.  “This whole hero thing... it’s always been different for me, Quentin.  I have always been the underdog no matter what I do.  I am one of the only Avengers he can call on and somehow I am still not good enough for him,” you spilled.  Quentin smiled at you, “I for one think you are an amazing hero.  I have no doubt you were born to be an amazing hero.”  You chuckled.  Quentin raised an eyebrow, “What’s so funny?”  You shook your head, “I used to be a scared high schooler who witnessed her aunt get murdered in front of her.  Then, I went from being a normal kid to fighting some crazy guy in a mechanical bird costume.  I never asked to be an Avenger.  It was a freak accident, Quentin.”  Quentin placed his hand on your thigh, “Everything happens for a reason.”  You blushed at his touch.  “You don’t even know me,” you muttered.  Quentin leaned closer to you, “I want to get to know you, Spider-Girl.”  He placed his hand on the under part of your mask and raised it up to your nose, you grabbed his wrist fast.  Quentin jumped slightly.  “I-I... I’m n-not ready for you to kn-know who I am,” you stuttered.  He smiled slightly, “That’s okay.  I understand.”  You let go of his wrist.  “It’s nothing per-personal, we just met.  Not many people know who I am,” you were embarrassed.  He smiled.  

You stood up, “I-I’m gonna go.  I should probably get some food in me.  I-I’ll see you back at the hotel.”  He followed you, “We can go together.  We are going to be spending a lot of time together.  I’d like to get to know the person I am working with.”  Your cheeks were red under your mask.  You were fighting yourself inside your head.  Should you or should you not?  It was difficult.  You wanted to open up to people, but that was too difficult.  “Sure, Quentin,” you agreed.  “But here’s the thing.  You’ll have to get the food and meet me back up here.  I can’t be seen just chilling in a local restaurant.  I don’t need that kind of press right now,” you told him.  His expression change into a frown, “Oh.”  You felt bad.  Maybe Quentin was safe.  Maybe you could trust him.  Maybe it was time to take a risk.  “Look,” you began, “Okay.  Meet me downstairs in like seven minutes.  We will walk somewhere together.  Just... put some normal clothes on.  Let’s do something not as supers for a while.”  Quentin’s face lit up.  He took your hands in his, “Seriously?  You’ll go to dinner with me?”  You smiled under your mask, “Yeah, I guess.”  Quentin smiled even wider, “You won’t regret this!”  Quentin rushed to the door and excused himself.  

You changed in one of the bathrooms up stairs.  You put on a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans.  You wanted to look as normal as possible.  “Maybe this is all a mistake... don’t you think you’re rushing,” you thought.  You shook it off and headed for the elevator.  You took it down to the lobby.  You saw Quentin across the room.  He was wearing a blue button-up and jeans.  It seemed odd to see him outside of his suit.  “He’ll definitely feel the same,” you thought.  You walked over to him, “Hey, Quentin.”  He turned and stared at you.  You froze.  “Oh God, what have I done,” you thought in panic.  “Wow,” he spoke, “You’re beautiful.”  You felt your cheeks turn pink.  You shook off his compliment, “No, no.  I never got to formally introduce myself.  I’m Y/N Parker.  And yes, I am behind the mask.  Hope you aren’t disappointed.”  He shook his head, “I’m not disappointed at all.  I’m pleasantly surprised.”  Your face flooded with color again and you chuckled slightly.  “So,” you changed the subject, “You ready to walk?”  He smiled at you, “I’d be happy to walk with you anywhere, Y/N.”  

The two of you headed out.  You talked about what being a superhero from a young age was like, about how much you missed your friends and a normal life.  Quentin told you a story about what life was like for him before everything happened.  He told you about his family which he has lost.  The two of you sharing made you feel better about revealing who you are to him.  Your guard had been up nonstop since the giant fight with Thanos.  It was hard for you to allow new people into your life.  You had pushed away your friends from school, it was easier since they had blipped and you didn’t.  You regretted isolating yourself.  

Quentin went inside a restaurant and ordered food for the both of you then you both walked back.  Of course the two of you could not go out without him getting recognized.  He is the most popular hero on the scene right now.  A couple of girls your age ran up confirming it was him and snapping a picture with him.  One of them making a quick comment about how handsome he was, and you couldn’t help the slight feeling of jealousy in your stomach.  You shook the feeling off, the two of you were not dating.  You were thankful the girls only took a picture of him and did not snap a photo of you together.  It would be suspicious for a picture of Mysterio with a random girl to surface once you two are inevitably spotted together as heroes.  He walked back over to you and smiled.  “Super star, eh?” You jabbed at him.  He blew his breath out and smiled, “No... you think so?”  You laughed with him, 

Your guard was lower than it had been in years.  You felt a weight you'd been carrying for a while begin to lift.  You could not deny the slight crush you were developing on Quentin.  He was charming and funny.  Not to mention handsome.  You enjoyed his company.  He attempted to take your hand in his causing you to jump at the sudden touch.  “Oh- Sorry,” Quentin’s face flushed with embarrassment.  You shook your head, “No-No you’re fine.  Just caught me off guard is all.”  It was strange that your body did not warn you of him about to touch you.  You must have sensed no danger on him.  This was new for you.  The rest of the walk was silent between you two.  

You returned back to your hotel room with the food.  You could not help but feel embarrassment for making what was developing between you two awkward.  You were beating yourself up and on top of it, your room key decided to give you a hard time.  You leaned your head against the hotel door, sighing in frustration.  You felt Quentin get closer to you, reaching for your wrist to help you with the door key.  “You just have to give it a little longer,” he spoke softly.  The door clicked and you tried the handle again.  It opened.  “Thank you,” you mumbled looking at him.  He was smiling at you.  

The two of you sat at the tiny coffee table together.  He pulled the food out of the bags, handing you yours first.  You picked at your food, too anxious to really eat.  There were a billion things on your mind, yet you could not focus on one of them.  “Y/N?”  You had gotten lost in your own thoughts.  “Sorry, just a lot on my mind,” you shot a fake smile at him.  He reached across the table and placed his hand on yours, “You can talk to me.”  You sighed.  Struggling to look at him, “Fury just puts so much pressure on me.  It’s like he expects me to... I don't know.  I barely know what I’m doing.”  Quentin squeezed your hand slightly, “Fury believes in you.  He knows you can be the next Iron Man.  The next leader of the Avengers!”  You chuckled, “I don’t want to be the next Iron Man.  Tony... he never wanted me to end up like him.  I love being a hero, but I’m a friendly neighborhood Spider-Girl.  I wasn’t ready to fight a giant titan in space and nearly die.”  There was a silence between you both.  You sure did know how to get people to stop talking to you, didn’t you?  You felt tears building up in your eyes.  Quentin caressed your hand with one of his fingers, “It’s okay to be scared, Y/N.  You haven’t had a break.”  You looked up at him and smiled, “Thank you.”  His gaze lingered on you.  You felt your cheeks growing a little pink.  “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.  I wish we had met under different circumstances,” Quentin intertwined fingers with you.  

You both finished what you wanted of your food then sat on your separate beds.  You scrolled mindlessly on your phone for a bit.  Of course, videos of Mysterio were everywhere.  The public adored him worldwide.  You were happy to be working with him.  You stretched slightly and stood up, “I’m gonna go get ready for bed.”  Quentin mumbled an “Okay” not looking up from his book.  You walked into the tiny bathroom and splashed some water in your face.  You changed into some sleep shorts and a tank top.  You were brushing your teeth when he knocked on the door.  

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” 

That’s weird...

“Sure, I’m decent,” you joked.  

Quentin opened the door only wearing his boxers.  You looked at him in the mirror and an indistinguishable look was on his face.  He walked up to you slowly, wrapping his hands around your waist.  He made sure his hands ran over every inch of your skin until they met for him to pull you close.  You felt chills run all over your body.  He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking into your eyes through the mirror.  His beard hairs tickled your exposed skin.  You wanted to ask what he wanted, but you knew.  You decided to just enjoy this intimacy.  He began to kiss your shoulder, all the way up to your neck.  You could feel something poking your back.  Your body was flooding with heat.  Could you really be this vulnerable with someone?  You were loving the attention his mouth was giving to your neck.  You placed one of your hands on his head, groaning with pleasure.  

“Quentin?”

“Yes?,” he mumbled into your neck.  

“What exactly are you trying to do?” you smiled softly at him in the mirror.  

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he kissed your neck more.  

You can’t do this.  Not yet.  

You tugged at his arms around you, turning to face him.  “Don’t... don’t be mad at me,” you sighed.  He smiled softly at you, “I would never be mad at you for telling me no when you aren’t ready.”  He cupped your cheek, you closed your eyes enjoying his touch.  “I... I’m so exhausted.  You make me feel so safe... I think this is the first time I have relaxed in years,” you kissed his palm.  “Let’s get you to bed then,” he grabbed your hand and led you to your bed.  You both crawled into your beds.  You rolled over to look at him from the other side.  He was smiling at you.  

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he spoke softly leaning for the lamp.  

“Goodnight, Quinn,” you yawned.  

~~~

END PART 1

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

[theargopriestess]

I Can’t Stop Wanting You - Part 1

How many times had he been here? Too many to count, and too many more for him to bare. Sure he really liked Pearl, hell she was great, being with her was great. But she wasn’t like Carly.

No one was like Carly.

Except Carly.

So when she threads her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, burrowing her nose into him, he allows himself, if only for a moment, a breath of a moment, to close his eyes, to hold her tighter and closer. She smells like daisies and wild flowers and there’s the faintest scent of sawdust from the bar.

He swears that she holds him tighter too, that her heartbeat picks up as his arms loop around her slim frame.

He knows now that it’ll never be enough. Because he’s never stopped wanting her. Never lost hope that they might have a chance to be together. When she kissed him in the studio before she left with her father to go to Italy, he thought they might be able to have something. But that ended in heartbreak, for him at least. But she came back and she stayed his friend for the last ten years. And he still wanted her.

The spell breaks as she pulls away. She gives a friendly punch to his arm, and maybe it’s his somewhat misplaced sense of chivalry that stops him from actually doing it back but he still pulls it and only makes a half hearted motion, watching her as she beams at him before leaving the apartment.

His knees buckle.

It is possibly the worst argument that he’s-

No.

It is the worst fight that they have ever had. So he leaves, heart torn in two, tears threatening to spill and blood boiling hotter than lava.

“Freddie!”

He hears her shout after him and the second the door slams on the catch he wants to turn back around, run back into Spencer’s apartment and make things right. But he can’t. His heart has been broken one too many times and he just keeps walking. The elevator is his first stop and he gets in. The tears fall as the doors close and he drops his weight against the back wall, pulse roaring in his ears and suddenly he feels as if he is being suffocated, and tugs at the tie around his neck, pulling it free and rolling it around his fingers and stuffing it in his pocket. The first time in a long time, he allows himself to properly cry, his whole body shakes as he does.

I hate her her!

I’m an idiot!

No you don’t, you could never hate her. His heart argues with itself.

The elevator doors open and he stumbles out. To the doorman he must look drunk or high out of his mind.

He doesn’t care.

For the next few hours, he walks the city streets. Hands in his pockets and fighting back more tears.

. . .

Hours later he’s back in Spencer’s apartment. The Italy set up is gone now, but there’s the faintest scent of garlic and pasta.

“Carly planned this beautiful moment, and I ruined it”, he drops his head into her hands. Spencer stays silent. He’s not surprised that the only sibling of the love of his life is angry with him. He would be.

He is.

“Have you talked to her at all today? Is she okay?” he can’t stop the desperation coming out in his voice, his vision blurs slightly as Spencer’s moves to sit on the arm of the couch. “Honestly, last night really freaked her out and she’s been a mess. Harper said that she spent almost the entire night crying and now she’s scared that you don’t want to be friends at all”.

No! Oh God, no!

“What?”

The pain that he feels now is worse. A whole lot worse. As if Dwayne The Rock Johnson socked him in the gut.

“I have to talk to her. Is she here?” He’s desperate now. He’s got to make it right. He’s got fix things between them. He’s sure Spencer’s can read his mind because he says, “she left a note for you up in the studio”.

He stands and runs up to the studio, feet slamming on the hard wood steps. He reaches the final step but in his haste and desperation to get there as fast as possible he trips and lands heavily on his front. He grunts upon impact but gets back to his feet, using the wall as a crutch to pull himself up.

He jogs to the door and stumbles into the studio.

She’s standing there, surrounded by soft glowing light. She’s so beautiful.

And he still wants her.

It’s hours later, his mother and daughter have gone home and gone to bed. Harper and Spencer too. They are still there, up in the studio. Carly has leaned back against him, back to his chest, head resting against his. She’s quiet as she breathes steadily against him, and for a moment he thinks have fallen asleep.

She hasn’t.

She shifts her head against his, and he turns his to hers, their foreheads brush and bump, then their noses and finally their lips. It’s different to how they’d kissed before, not quite as casual as it was in front of their family, not quite as needy and passionate as when they’d finally cleared the air and admitted their feelings for one another. This time it’s slow, tender and tastes of longing. He shifts his weight, forcing her to sit up, and he realised it must be awkward an uncomfortable for her neck.

She pulls away and he opens his eyes and watches her as she turns her body round to face him, shifting closer, (if that was even possible), she slips her hands to his neck fingers playing at the soft hair at the back of head as she leans in again. He obliges her all too happily, cupping her neck with one hand, thumb gentle against her jaw bone, other arm wrapped around her waist. Kissing her has never felt so good.

In the tenderness of the moment, an idea springs to mind, and he nuzzles gently at her lips with his own before he pulls away, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out is phone. She laughs almost incredulously, “are you serious? You were kissing me like half a second ago and now you’re checking twitter? Are you kidding?”

He catches her eye, giving her a wink and a lopsided smirk, “no, now where is it, had it saved in my fav- ah there it is.”

“Freddie what are you-”

He stands as Chrissy Chase’s ‘Meant for Me’ starts to play. He offers her his hand. “M’lady, may I have this dance?” Carly smiles and nods, taking his hand and standing, allowing her to pull her in. As they dance slowly to the music, Freddie holds her closer this time, his hands resting on her lower back, he allows himself to enjoy the feeling of her arms around his neck. Neither one of them can take their eyes off each other, and it’s almost as if they are stuck in their own little bubble, like nothing in the world could disturb them. As he looks into her eyes, he sees the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, slowly rolling down her face. He lifts a hand gently to to face to catch the falling tears, inclining is head forward. “Hey”, he speaks quietly, “you’re crying, what’s wrong?”She shakes her head, smiling at him, reaching her own hand up to his face, brushing her thumb against his cheek. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just so happy”. In response, he turns his head into her hand into her hand and nuzzles his nose against it, pressing his lips against her palm. “I’m so happy too”.

He’s certain that she knows that he wants her. He’ll always want her.

[uniquevoidflowers]

Got something out!!! Finally!!! It's not the continuation but that is coming up next. Angst is really heavy.

Legend jolted when the stone floor beneath him crumbled, and he was falling. He landed heavily on a different set of cold ground. “Ow! What…where am I?” He said with a groan. 

He saw Time, Hyrule, Twilight, Warriors, Four, Wind, Wild and Sky standing there.

"What... what's going on? What... what the hell are you guys doing here?!" Legend yelled. 

They didn’t seem to hear him, they just stared at a coffin. Inside the vet saw…himself...?! Legend stiffened.  "What... Am I…is that me?"

“I’m glad he's gone." Warriors sighed looking at the coffin.

Legend turned to face the captain. "Warriors, tell me. What is going on here?"

Nobody seemed to hear him speak. "Legend was just a nuisance who brought everyone down. He was a liability." Time huffed. 

"Are you kidding me right now?! I'm standing right fucking here and you're discussing me as if I'm not even here! I feel like I'm in a nightmare! What is wrong with you people?" Legend yelled. He was so overwhelmed at the sudden hatred that he felt like he couldn’t breathe as tears pricked at his eyes. 

"The vet was always so mean. I'll never miss him now that he's dead." Wind shrugged, his usually expressive face twisted into a deadpan.

"Can someone kindly explain to me why I'm being treated like the bad guy here and why that thing inside that coffin looks like me?" He asked, frustrated. 

Why did the sailor of all people have to say that? Nobody seems to hear him still. "I am disgusted to have him as a predecessor. I'd rather have Time.” Hyrule’s face was scrunched up with only hatred. 

"Enough! Someone talk to me! Someone answer me, damn it!" He yelled. 

It felt like he was talking to a brick wall. "Please... just tell me what's going on! What's this about? Am I going insane?!" His head spun just thinking about it. 

He felt like he was trapped inside an insane asylum when he knows he's not insane, he feels very much sane and healthy and their words were driving him towards madness. The vet suddenly tried to slam his fists into the ground but his hand phased through it. Gasping he realized he was a ghost. He was dead. Everybody was now talking about how much they disliked him when he was alive. "Legend ruined everything." Four sighed, his eyes icy blue.

He felt sick at that point. He put his head in his hands, and struggled not to cry. “No…no….this can’t be…I’m…dead? Tell me right now that I’m. not dead and this is all some kind of evil dream.” Legend demanded. 

But this seemed very real. Why else would everyone be suddenly ignoring him? "He was such a jerk. He pretended to care about me or some shit." Twilight rolled his eyes. 

Ouch. He couldn’t take it. Tears began to form in his eyes as he glanced around at his friends, they were all speaking and talking in their own little bubble that had felt like they were excluding him, as if he was the villain despite the face he feels like he’s done a lot to save them all. “By The Three…how could any of you say those things about me when I’ve saved you all so so many times? Have you forgotten?! Have you forgotten that I always put you before me every time? I... I care about all of you!" Legend cried out. 

He felt invisible. "I just wish it was sooner that he had died. It was satisfying to see him die." The veteran was surprised to hear Sky, Sky of all people saying that. Everyone nodded in agreement.

He was so beyond hurt. To have been standing there and listening to everything they were saying, especially knowing that they’re speaking the truth - that he was a jerk…that he did push his loved ones away…It had hurt so so much. “So…so…you all really think I’m that…all those things?” His voice sounded so small. “Do…do you hate me?”

Nobody…Still nobody heard or acknowledged what he had said. "I always hated him. He was so picky to cook for, so rude. And when I dared to offer him a hug he'd shove me away. Glad I don't have to do that anymore." Wild sighed.

 "That asshole." Twilight hugged the cook, like the cook was the one needing the hug.

Legend was crying silently. He knows he was a jerk, he knows they had good reasons to feel that way…but there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding. Was he really deserving of the hate from all his loved ones? “Do…do you all really hate me that much?” Legend asked weakly.

He was afraid to hear their answer. "Let's just move on already, we're wasting time talking about that stupid hero, if you could even call him one." Warriors glared at the corpse of the vet.

His head buried even lower at hearing Warriors’ comments.

“Stupid hero…” 

Those words hurt more than the others. He had done so much to help them all, and that’s all they had to say about him? Stupid hero. Why did he even try to fight? "And he'd whine about not being able to sleep. Ha! What a loser." Hyrule laughed coldly.

That one had hurt even more. His eyes watered again. “Loser? That’s…that’s all I am to you people?” Legend questioned.

He almost started to believe them. “I don’t understand…did none of you even care about me when I was alive?” He tried, the image of that making his heart burn.

"Remember that time we cared for him when he was sick and he punched Wars and got upset? Later he blamed it on delirium but he's just a pathetic jerk. I wanted to leave him to die right then and there." Twilight recalled, scowling. 

Each time the veteran had heard these things, his own words and actions and their reactions towards them, he left more and more worthless.  Like he truly did make everyone’s lives worse. His heart ached with misery and anger. “You…you all felt like this about me…?” His voice cracked.

Had he been that much of a disappointment and never realized it his entire life? That’s a really hard pill to swallow. "Should we even tell his Zelda or Ravio about his death?" Four murmured, eyes switching to a hue of purple.

Hearing those words made his heart sink to his stomach. They had been considering to not tell them? But also, he had let Zelda and Ravio down. "Nah, they don't need to hear that. They're better off without him anyways. We'll just tell them Legend left them to go do his own selfish little things. That's what he was...selfish." Sky shrugged.

Legend felt like he could crumble into a million pieces at any given moment. Hearing his friends and loved ones say these things… “I…I was selfish wasn’t I? Did I ever even make them happy?” Legend whispered.

Why couldn’t the vet see it before? Why didn’t anyone ever call him out on his selfish behaviour? Was he truly that oblivious to everything until it was too late? "Cheers to an adventure without the selfish and jerk of a veteran hero!" Time announced. 

They all cheered.

The hoarder had felt like his heart just got punched. They didn’t see it. No one saw it. He’s just a selfish jerk to the chain. All he’s done, all that he’s accomplished…it didn’t even register to them. All he could do then was stand there quietly while they mock him and talk down about him, about their hatred for him. “But…but..why don’t they see…” He said quietly to himself as tears streamed down his face.

They all moved on and started discussing new battle plans. Nobody mentioned the veteran, nobody cared that he was dead. They left his body to rot. It was like to them he had never even existed in the first place. He felt utterly alone. “I’m…I’m. not dead.” He insisted. 

“I have to be alive.” But deep down, he had also felt like he was as good as dead. 

He was just…he was completely invisible. Was he really just that much of a screw up? Was he not good enough? Even when he had tried so damn hard? "Ah this strategy is way better! Legend took up a lot of space, we should've let him die awhile ago. But noooo the goddess didn't want him to die. I'm glad she freed us from him now." Warriors rolled his eyes.

He felt his stomach churn. He felt so alone. And he felt as if maybe all those things he was accused of being, had truth to them. Maybe…Maybe he was as selfish and stupid as everyone made him out to be. Maybe no one really did need him. But he hoped that wasn’t the case. "This battle strategy is way easier without Legend!" Four laughed happily as he destroyed monsters later on.

He slumped. “What…what did I ever do…what did I ever mean to any of you? Why…why did I think people cared about me…?” Nobody heard his barely audible whisper, his lonely and painful sobs. 

'You're a failure.' 

'You were a liability' 

'They have reason to hate you'

 The veteran hero was so incredibly hurt. “Do... do any of you at least care about me at all...?" He prayed that someone would speak out, that they would have something kind to say. 

But in his heart he knows no one will. This couldn’t be real. No one on this earth is that cruel…right…?

Nobody talked about Legend for months. Each day they acted like he never existed in the first place. They were able to move on really quickly. When Malon, or Zelda, or Ravio asked, they lied about the vet. He was already so hurt, so wounded…but to have the people he cared about turn a blind eye? To make an effort to speak ill of him as if he was the most awful presence, rather than a guy that cared and did his best? “This isn’t fair.” He told the air around him.

He just wanted to be noticed, to be heard, to be seen. 

Were all these heroes correct to say all these things?  "They're... they're right aren't they...?"  Tears had flowed down his pale tear struck face once he had seen his mistakes.

He was a horrible, horrible man and he realized that way too late. He felt a sudden anger at the Goddess Hylia. He’d obeyed her over and over again, and this is what he got? “Why?” He wailed. 

“Why would you do this to me?! This isn’t fair! This isn’t right! Why don’t you recognize that?!” He cried out, to someone. 

'Selfish' The vet’s mind supplies. 'You’re selfish.’

He’s had enough of this. All those years of being a hero…it meant nothing. Nothing! And he, himself, was at fault for it. He had made everyone’s lives worse.  He sunk further into misery and shame. 

______________________________________________________

“Hey, buddy wake up.” Someone roused Legend.

He shot up, sobs already coming out of his throat. Warriors was there, concern clear in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” The captain asked.

His mind nagged him over and over again that Warriors didn’t care. “Make it stop!” Legend wailed.

“Whoa, calm down there.” Warriors urged, looking uneasy.

“Y-you hate me.” Legend accused, recalling the venom in the man’s voice.

“Shhh, no I don’t. I would never.” Warriors soothed.

Legend lets the captain hold him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Warriors asked.

“No.” Legend murmured.

“Why don’t I give you a journal then? You can write those things down and I promise you, no one will read it if you don’t allow them to.” Warriors suggested. 

“Okay then…” Legend sniffled.

He spent the next few days scribbling down the dream, disregarding the concern and wariness the others felt.

[yellowkitkieran]

Slow Down (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Kieran has been stressed lately, so you take it upon yourself to help him relax. Requested by @masonsreece​

For the past few months, you have watched Kieran deteriorate. The confident, happy man you loved has morphed into someone bitter and snappy. Your Kieran isn't Kieran anymore, but some sort of pale imitation of the man you fell in love with. 

Kieran's lack of playtime weighs heavy on his shoulders. When you're promised to be Arsenal's next captain, how could it not? Being sidelined for someone who is arguably not as good in some areas as himself has knocked his confidence both on and off the pitch. Unfortunately for you, that means Kieran is irritable and cranky when he comes home from training, regardless of how good the session may have been. Today is no different; he's only been gone two hours but the front door slams shut, his keys thud to the wood table in the foyer, shoes flung at the wall instead of being placed on the rack. 

You wait in the kitchen, a little smile on your face even as your heart breaks. You've put effort into your appearance, nothing over the top but making sure you look ready to go out and throwing on one of his favorite outfits. You're determined to pull Kieran out of this funk if it's the last thing you do.

"Welcome home Key," you say, bouncing on your toes as he rounds the corner. You crank up your smile, trying your best to stay positive when Kieran turns his dulled brown eyes up at you. 

"Hi," he mumbles, voice flat and lifeless. He looks you up and down, giving no indication as to how he feels about your carefully selected clothes. "Are you going out? I can order takeout then I guess. Thanks for letting me know."

You try to not let his words sting, aware that he's struggling and doesn't mean to take it out on you. "Actually, correction- we are going out, not just me. I laid an outfit on our bed for you, could you go change baby? It'll be fun!"

Kieran sighs and drags a hand over his stubbled jaw. Normally Kieran likes a clean, close shave but lately he's been letting his facial hair grow for a week or so between shaves. That was your final straw. Because while you personally love the rugged, tough look on him, you know he hates it. He used to complain about how itchy and weird it felt to let it grow, so the fact that it isn't bothering him now like it used to is, quite frankly, somewhat terrifying. 

"I don't wanna go out, love. Thanks for trying though. I'm gonna shower and head to bed." 

Kieran goes to leave, but your hand darts out to grab his wrist. You tug on his arm until finally Kieran gives in, sighing as he turns his body to stand toe to toe with you. He stares at a spot over your shoulder, unable to find the strength to look you in the eye. 

"Sweetheart, it's only two in the afternoon," you say softly. You expected him to resist, but you hadn't expected him to appear quite so put out about the idea of spending time with you. You'd hoped for a smile or at least a momentary glint in his eye, not this. 

"I'm tired," is all Kieran offers in explanation, as if that's all you'll require to let him go. Luckily you're stubborn as a bull; it'll take loads more resistance to put you off your plans. 

"Key," you murmur, "could you please change for me baby? I've got an easy, fun afternoon planned for us." You place your hand on his jaw, thumb stroking over his stubble. "We haven't had a date night in over a month. Could you please do this for me?" 

When Kieran's eyes flash to yours for a split second, you consider it a win. You tip your head slightly, fingers drumming lightly on his cheek. "I guess so… I really do need a shower first though, I didn't do that this morning."

"That's fine, I'll help you." You'll do whatever you can to make this easier on him. You miss his smile, so you have no problem stripping down and ruining your hair to join him in the shower.

Helping Kieran wash up doesn't include anything inherently sexual and yet it's astonishingly more intimate. Kieran bows his head for you to massage shampoo into his scalp, cleaning his short hair and enjoying the familiar scent of his soap. You wash his body with gentle hands, taking your time to ensure he feels truly clean because you know he's not been looking after himself the way he should. You stand up once you've finished rinsing off his calves and Kieran's hand lands on your side for a moment, squeezing your hip in a gesture of thanks. 

Progress, no matter how small, is something to smile about. So you do, your lips curled softly as you dry your boyfriend's body with a fluffy black towel and help him get dressed in a pair of simple track pants and a black tshirt. Once he's set in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, you look after yourself, dressing and quickly styling your damp hair whilst Kieran does his own. While he doesn't do much with it, the fact that he puts in any effort at all is a step in the right direction. 

You smile when he looks at you in the mirror. "Looking beautiful as always Key," you say as you finish up your hair. "I don't think I tell you often enough how pretty you are."

"Not as pretty as you," Kieran murmurs, pushing his hand across the white marble vanity top to touch the side of your hand. It's a gesture that tells you he appreciates what you're doing, even if he can't find the words to say it out loud. 

"Come on, I'll drive." You flip your hand up, palm to the ceiling in an open invitation. You're half surprised when Kieran accepts, his rough hand sliding into yours like the missing piece of your puzzle. Instantly you know that you'll get through this rocky patch together, with the man you love at your side. All Kieran needs is a little reminder that he isn't alone. 

**********

"A… spa? But I thought we were having a date day." Confusion dances in Kieran's eyes, which you suppose is an improvement over the nothingness that has been lingering in them for weeks. At least this is something. 

"Mhm! I've gotten massages booked for us babe, and before you point out that you can get them at training for free… Yes, that is technically true, but you can't get a couples massage! So come on, we're getting facials too. Trust me, you'll love it."

"I guess, if you say so…" 

Kieran stuffs his hands in his pockets, trailing after you as you head towards check in. You're given warm white robes and directed to a changing room with lockers to store your clothes. You separate and change into the robe, grabbing a pair of slippers off the rack in the room and sliding them on. Kieran is waiting on one of the sofas when you come out, a glass of lemon water in his hand that he sips at. 

"Hey handsome," you murmur, sitting close to him and leaning your head on his shoulder for a brief moment. "How's your spa experience so far? I love these robes, I always say I'm gonna steal one for our house. Aren't they soft?" 

"They are pretty nice. Guess it could be worse here… it smells good at least."

"It's herbal stuff- wait till you smell the green tea mask we're getting, I always wanna eat it!" Kieran's facade cracks to allow a small smile through. Your stomach flips at the return of your favorite of his features. "It doesn't taste good though, don't ask how I know."

Kieran's smile grows, finally showing teeth as he huffs out a bare bones laugh. If you keep this up, you might have your Kieran back by the end of the afternoon- maybe you'll even get a cuddle when you get home. 

Your name is called and you grab Kieran's hand, following your masseuse to a private room. Two beds are set about a foot apart, allowing the pair of you to talk if you want. 

The woman who led you in- Marie is what her nametag says- clasps her hands in front of her chest. "I'll give you a few minutes to get situated. I'll knock before we come in." 

"Perfect, thank you!" You wait for her to leave before you drop your robe to slide under the white sheet, laying face down on your table. Kieran watches you carefully, clearly out of his element. 

"You don't need to totally strip down and get naked. You can keep your boxers on if you want." 

"Okay," Kieran says, reluctantly tugging on the belt keeping his robe in place. Sensing his discomfort, you turn your head away so he doesn't feel like you're watching him. If you had it your way you wouldn't take your eyes off of him, but the entire point of today is to help Kieran relax. 

"It's warm," Kieran notes once he's situated under the sheet with his arms pillowed under his head. You can't help yourself, letting your gaze wander over the curve of his bicep and across the planes of his face. Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses, and now feels like one of those times. 

You thought you might be jealous if another woman touched Kieran, but watching his eyes close in obvious bliss when his masseuse begins working at his shoulders is well worth it. Kieran's soft sigh comes as his body visibly relaxes, taught muscles going loose as the built up stress drains from his figure. After a few minutes, you stretch your hand out to lay a hand on his arm, needing to connect with him. 

Kieran cracks an eye open, "Maybe you were right. This is amazing." 

"Mmhhmm. When are you gonna learn that I'm always right?" 

Kieran laughs, which morphs into a groan when his masseuse hits the right spot with the flat of her palm. "Fucking hell- oi sorry lass, it slipped… sweetheart this is the best idea you've had in ages, maybe forever. I already feel loads better."

Your grin outshines the sun when Kieran brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles. A soft smile remains stuck on his lips as his eyes close and he fully gives in to the lavender oils and comforting music playing low overhead. His soft snores come moments later, and you share an amused look with his masseuse. 

"You can finish even though he's asleep, he clearly needs it. I'll pay for extra time for the room- I'm not gonna wake him up for a while." 

[cutthroatcarnival]

Febuwhump Day 6: “You Lied To Me”

Tags/Warnings: Major character death, blood, self-sacrifice, canon-typical violence

Separated from the others, Wind and Four find themselves in a dungeon with traps, enemies, falling floors, and a rule.

Read it on AO3!

Fallen Down

Wind groaned, waking at the feeling of hands patting at his cheeks. Sluggishly, he pushed the hands away, hearing someone chuckle.

He forced his eyes to open, focusing on the dirt-smudged smith hovering above him. Four had crusted blood on his temple, but looked otherwise unharmed. With a groan, Wind pushed himself up, feeling Four help him up with a hand on his back.

“You’re awake! Thank the Three, I feared I was going to have to drag you around!” Four stood, holding a hand out for Wind to take, helping the younger hero to his feet. He took in the area, the entirety of it was ruins, spanning every direction.

As he turned back to Four, the smith held out his sword and shield, his own already strapped to his back, a lantern swung on his belt. Wind took his items, swiftly latching them on. He leaned to take a look at the tablet Four was blocking, only to be spun around as the smith grabbed his hand and began walking down the corridor.

“Where are the others?” Darkness surrounded them, the only light being Four’s lantern, casting dancing shadows as it swung with his gait.

“It’s just the two of us.” Something in Four’s voice didn’t sound right, but the darkness blocked out his face. Wind tucked himself closer to the smithy- they would get out of this.

The corridor finally opened into a lowly lit room, the walls looked eerie, sporting holes that looked vaguely like eyes. Wind dropped Four’s hand, pulling away to read the stone tablet.

“‘Take flight with boots of wings’? What does that-“ The sound of hundreds of arrows being shot cut Wind off. He whipped his head around to see Four standing by the edge of the small platform, arm posed as if he had thrown something.

Wind ran over to Four, who snapped his arm out to stop him from going beyond the lip, “I know how we cross this.” The smith began quickly digging through his bag, muttering under his breath quicker than Wind could keep up with.

With a ‘aha!’ Four pulled out the item he had been rooting for- his power bracelets. Wind jumped as the smith whirled around, already slipping the items on, holding his arms out towards the sailor, an expectant look on his face. He squinted at the smith- what was Four expecting him to do? The shorter hero rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to carry you,” Wind shuffled forward, “wrap your arms around my neck.” He did as instructed, and yelped as he felt his feet leave the ground, squeezing his arms around Four’s neck as the smith turned. The arms around him tightened and they shot off, racing across the open space as arrows launched across the room behind them.

On the other side, they skidded to a stop, entering a new room. Wind wriggled out of Four’s hold, falling to the ground. The door behind them slammed shut. Flopping his head to the side, Wind examined the room; it was barren, the only thing in it the stone tablet and weirdly designed floor tiles. As he pushed himself up, he saw Four approach the stone tablet.

“Follow the birds,” Wind watched as the smith’s eyes swirled purple for a moment before the normal gray returned, “The tiles! The bird tiles!” He watched with fear as Four jumped onto one of the tiles, tensing up as he awaited another trap.

Nothing. It seemed safe enough for a dungeon filled with dangerous traps. Taking a deep breath, Wind jumped to the tile, landing next to Four who hopped to the next tile. They continued across the room, narrowly avoiding stepping on the wrong tile as they grew smaller. Wind felt something uncomfortable settle in his gut- this dungeon had been too easy, scarily so. Four didn’t look bothered, so he chalked up to general unease, but the feeling couldn’t quite be shaken off.

The next room brought a bridge that had definitely seen better days, Wind could only just see the bottom of the chasm it crossed. Growls made him whip around, seeing bokoblins pour into the room from nowhere. Four shifted to cover his back, the two of them forming a tight stance. The smith had brought out a cane, sending the monsters flipping into the chasm, their shrieks echoing off of the stone. Wind slashed and stabbed at the seemingly endless wave, he could Four behind him clashing with metal.

Unfortunately, the ‘blins managed to split them apart after a while. Wind had his focus on the group that kept pushing him down the bridge, they had dwindled the numbers down greatly. The sailor had brought out his Skull Hammer, swinging it to send the enemies flying off the edge. When one remained, Wind slammed his hammer down over its head, rejoicing at the puff of purple smoke.

The bridge under him shifted as the hammer connected to stone, making a loud cracking and crumbling noise. Wind froze as he felt the stone beneath him move violently, almost shaking.

A weight slammed into him, sending him back a couple of paces. He landed flat on his back, groaning as his head connected with the stone. The sound of stone scraping together echoed in the cavern, making Wind’s head snap up. Four! Where was he? Was he still on the other side? Oh Goddesses, Four, there were still monsters-

Wind’s racing thoughts screeched to a halt as it finally clicked what- or who, rather- was in front of him. Four stood where he had been seconds ago, wearing an unreadable expression. He could feel time slow as the bridge finally collapsed, the smith disappearing from his view with a scream.

Scrambling to the edge, Wind peeked over, trying to see any sign of Four. He sniffled, fighting back tears that threatened to blur his vision. Fighting back a sob, the sailor made out a figure resting at the bottom. The familiar colors of Four’s tunic were distinguishable against the stone. He wailed, the area surrounding his unmoving body was dark, and growing larger by the second.

The sailor stumbled back, sobbing and heaving. Four had lied- right to his face, he sounded so sure when saying that they would both survive. Wind shivered violently. A grating sound made him turn around, seeing the wall split in two and open, letting sunlight pour in. Hiccups tore from his throat, body shaking and wracked with sobs. This is what it took to escape?

[totsumaki]

Chapter 3: Everything Will Be Okay

SUNNY explained everything he saw, and both MARI and AUBREY were squeezing him, AFRAID. “It seems like you can’t go off alone like that anymore, SUNNY. I’m not sure who’d get you first.” HERO patted his head, smiling.  SUNNY looked at the two of them, and felt his sins crawling on his back. “I’m sorry, I won’t run off again unless I find one of you two…” He hummed, tilting his head at AUBREY. “Although I might look for AUBREY more often than you, MARI. I know you’ll understand.” MARI giggled at the blushing AUBREY, smiling knowingly. “Oh young love~ Is this really what I’ve been missing out on when I use my shortcuts? I should follow all of you more~” She kept giggling as HERO pulled her away from SUNNY and AUBREY, who seemed to be in their own world. KEL was making retching noises, while HAZEL quietly laughed at him.

“C’mon now. It ain’t all that bad.” HAZEL teased, patting him on his shoulder. KEL rolled his eyes at her. “They do this so often, and they’re not even dating yet! At least then it wouldn’t be AS bad.” HERO bopped him on the head disapprovingly. “Let them sort their feelings out before rushing into a relationship. Jumping into one immediately tends to make things fall apart.” KEL turned around to look at HERO. “They’ve been doing this in HEADSPACE for six years!” HERO frowned at him. “And what about in the REAL WORLD? He didn’t leave his house for four years. Then for three days he actually spent with us, before being in a coma for another two. It’s a wonder he isn’t starved for attention, and that might be what’s stopping him.” KEL stayed quiet, before looking at them. “Yeah, I guess I’m just getting too stuck on HEADSPACE 

Memories.”

Eventually the two maybe-lovebirds separated, and the group went back to the OTHERWORLD camp site, looking around for BASIL, or at least an idea of where he went. Walking towards a crescent moon shaped house, there was a commotion of some kind, and someone screaming. The group made their way over, curious, as someone stomped out of the room and stopped when she saw them, and stabbed an accusing finger at SUNNY. “YOU! I HAD QUITE ENOUGH THINGS GOING ON THAT I DON’T NEED MISERABLE RATS IN MY WAY TOO!” SUNNY pointed to himself, confused. That was the wrong thing to do.

She started screeching at him, berating him for… Something he did? He couldn’t understand a word she said, but HERO, KEL, and AUBREY stood in front of him protectively. “Uh… Who is she?” How the hell can her pitch get higher?! She sounds like a chipmunk now, damn near getting to the point where dog ears would hurt. “HOW DARE YOU NOT REMEMBER ME! YOU RUINED MY WEDDING, MY PERFECT MATCH, AND NOW YOU CAN’T EVEN BOTHER TO REMEMBER SWEETHEART?” SUNNY blinked at her. “Why would I do that?”

“SUNNY, you really know how to piss someone off…” MARI winced as the next sound was enough to break glass, and she pulled out a heart shaped flail. SUNNY and his friends got into fighting positions, before noticing MARI and HAZEL were missing. Looking up, SUNNY noticed them on a podium, with guitars and a keyboard, picking a fairly catchy opening riff. SWEETHEART attacked with the flail, spikes pointing out and catching HERO in the chest, slamming him into a wall.

The group jumped forward as the music began, each of them fighting SWEETHEART who began to laugh obnoxiously as she swung that flail, trying to catch any of them. Sometimes they’d get caught, other times they managed to dodge. As the fight kept going, SWEETHEART became more and more ECSTATIC, becoming MANIC.

SUNNY darted forward, striking at SWEETHEART as AUBREY came up from behind with her hammer. The two worked in tandem while KEL threw his ball at the self proclaimed princess, his aim was deadly accurate, but that flail was a big problem, swinging around and smacking everything she could. Eventually she scored a hit on KEL, causing him to nearly become TOAST. HAZEL drops down and runs over with her paintbrush, quickly swiping a bit of Magenta paint, sealing his wounds. 

SUNNY’s breathing started to accelerate, his eyes darting as he saw the flail swing at AUBREY and time started to slow down. He could see how the flail would hit her, how it would injure her, and she was moving too slow to dodge. His body moved on instinct as he jumped towards her, tackling her and taking the hit right in the heart. Time completely stopped, as his eyes widened and he spat up blood. He saw MARI looking at him, her eyes widened with horror. He reached out towards her as his health hit 0. “I’m… So sorry…” SUNNY has succumbed. His body faded away, leaving nothing behind. The air started to chill as MARI dropped down from the podium, her body shaking as she picked up his knife. AUBREY fell to her knees, staring where he had been. Tears were streaming down her face, as a shadow covered her eyes. HAZEL looked up, wiping her forehead before looking around. “Where…where did SUNNY go…” MARI gripped the knife, her knuckles turning white as Sweetheart sneered at her and swung her flail. “YOU NEED TO LEARN YOUR LES…. son?” She stopped at the sight of MARI’s hand gripping the heart shaped head, the spikes stabbed through her hand, and she shattered it.

MARI has become FURIOUS.

Her bleeding hand now grips SUNNY’s knife, her knuckles are white as she growls and leaps forward, screaming. The knife swung wildly, cutting SWEETHEART as she tried to dodge the rabid woman. MARI didn’t let up, stabbing and swinging with wild abandon and tears streaming from her face. All of her rage was directed at SWEETHEART, her grief becoming more obvious as more cuts were made.

Eventually, SWEETHEART fell screaming, and the knife was plunged into her heart over and over again as MARI attacked, slowing down as her breath became ragged. The body under her was covered in stabs and cuts, as MARI sobbed and clutched at her chest. HERO had slowly stumbled his way over to her, taking the knife from her and hugging her as she was wracked with grief.

As HAZEL helped KEL and eventually AUBREY up she’d be the first to speak. “Um…minus SUNNY…Is everyone else ok…?” AUBREY looks like she was going to break down, KEL’s eyes were swirls, HERO and MARI were comforting each other and the corpse of SWEETHEART faded to dust.

SUNNY slowly opened his eyes, above him was that same look alike, looking down at him from above, emotionless. “You died. Yet you still live.” The being stated. SUNNY didn’t say anything, seeing the surroundings were akin to WHITE SPACE. “You’re OMORI.” SUNNY stated, seeing surprise flicker across OMORI’s face. “You remember me.” SUNNY shakes his head. “I figured out your name after I heard it. But the memories are gone.” OMORI nods. “Perhaps you might learn of the TRUTH again. Or perhaps you’ll fight me, again. Either way, you will not survive and I will reset, as needed.”

SUNNY did not respond, sitting up. “You are keeping me here. Locking me away, and using my body for your own. I will fight you.” OMORI doesn’t respond, instead smiling at him. “Good. You still have some fight left in you. Do you want to continue?” SUNNY nods, determined. OMORI laughs and fades away, his laughter following as the world goes dark.

[showfallmanagement]

[ This post was made using Showfall Media Video-To-Text--now with employee-differentiating color-coding technology! If you believe there's been an error and would like to end Showfall Media Video-To-Text, please say 'End transcript' or turn your recording device off. 

[The footage begins, bright fluorescent lights reflecting off the tiling as the camera travels down a large hallway. The sounds of tapping footsteps and Manager#0 humming idly to himself echo off the walls. It pans towards the left side of the hallway, a door covered in multicolor Post-It notes scrawled with messages unintelligible from here coming into frame. Another room to its right is lit up with a soft white glow, the red logos of Showfall Media on its windows also reflecting on the floor. The camera pans to the other side of the hallway and comes to a stop outside this room.]

[Shattered windows frame the thick darkness beyond them, a stark contrast to the illuminated Heart now behind him. The sign hanging above the entrance, though slightly scratched and no longer lit up, reads “Forever 21”.] 

Manager#0: [Muttering.] Nowhere left to run, Editor.

[He approaches the entrance, which has been obstructed by several display shelves. With a bit of a struggle, he manages to shove one of them backwards, metal groaning and then slamming against the floor with a reverberating crash. Manager#0 makes a small sound of pleasant surprise before stepping over the shelf and into the darkness.]

[The store is littered with fallen ceiling panels and old shelves, long ransacked, filled only with dust and the occasional leftover item. Old clothing racks are positioned in neat lines around the room, like gravestones. A rustling sound is heard, distant enough the location in the store can't be identified. But close enough to be picked up by the mic.]

[The camera snaps in the direction of the sound, pausing momentarily before starting forward, pace now slowed considerably. There’s a sound of glass crunching as he calls out.]

Manager#0: I know you’re in here, Editor! Don’t try to hide from your responsibilities.

?: [Distant.] Showfall isn't my responsibility, asshole!

Manager#0: Oh, you poor thing. Your judgement’s been clouded from how long you were out there. Let us set you back on the right path! 

?: [Distant.] What, me becoming a stupid Editor again? Is that the right path? How about you eat a fucking shoe asshole.

Manager#0: There’s no escaping your role, Editor. And I must say your job is on the line here. [The camera darts around the next room as Manager#0 ventures into the back part of the store.] I’m not keen on letting you go with a slap on the wrist, but it’s your only option, unfortunately--unless you want to be fired.

?: [Distant.] I quit in June, you bitch! Can't fire me if I QUIT!

Manager#0: [Dry laugh.] Oh, that’s what I thought, too. Thought if it got too stressful I could just opt out. But I’m still useful here. And you would be too, if you didn’t cause so much trouble.

?: [Distant.] I HAVEN'T BEEN HERE! I have been hiding in an apartment since June! or well July I think. How am I causing trouble? You dipfucks ruined my life!

Manager#0: Oh, please. Life isn’t fair, Editor. You just have to accept what comes your way. Struggling will only prolong your suffering. [Sigh.] I was hoping you’d end up being less childish than that sister of yours--what was her name, Ruby?--but here we are.

?: [Still distant, but sounding slightly closer than before.] Don't. Say. Her. Fucking. Name. She's dead because of this hellhole.

Manager#0: We both know that isn’t really true. Checking her file, she’s still around here somewhere! Security department, what a fulfilling job. Come with me willingly and maybe the two of you could have a reunion of sorts before you’re fired!

?: [Closer.] For a cheery motherfucker, you sure don't value your life, do you!

[More shuffling, as if someone was moving away from a spot.]

[The camera focuses in on the direction of the sound. There’s a somewhat large potted plant next to some shelves, the leaves of which are still swaying as if disturbed by a sudden movement.]

Manager#0: My main priority is the company, something I imagine you wouldn’t know anything about. 

[He stalks towards the plant carefully, before suddenly kicking it over backwards. It lands with a loud thud and a rustling of leaves. The camera turns back to the rest of the store, scanning the abandoned display cases.]

?: [Closer.] Not there. Try again stupidass!

[The light from the HALO reflects in the cracked glass of a jewelry display, making what remains of the necklaces and bracelets sparkle. The camera pauses for a moment on the scene, as if preoccupied.]

?: [Whispered.] Fuck, he is way closer than I'd like.

[The camera jolts in the direction of the voice.]

Manager#0: What, do you think I can’t hear you? [The camera darts towards the shelf the voice came from behind.]

?: Yeah… kinda.

[The camera tilts as Manager#0 leans around the corner of the shelf, coming face to face with an unmasked employee in a brown jacket, curls of brunette hair poking out from their hood. Bloodied bandages partially obscure their face, and they clutch a gun to their chest. Their visible eye widens, shining in the light from the HALO as the scene is suddenly washed in red.]

[Employee identified! Editor#721 (Rose Henderson)]

Manager#0: Surprise! 

R: Fuck-

[Rose stuffs the gun in one of her pockets before turning and quickly skittering away, darting away behind a shelf a ways ahead. There’s miscellaneous crashing sounds from somewhere further into the store.

R: [Distantly again.] Still fast as fuck moron! Remember when I ran out of here with a plant on my back?

Manager#0: [Sighing in frustration as he begins in the direction Rose fled, red lighting turning the wall and back of the shelf on either side of him a light pink.] A plant??

R: [Closer.] Yeah! I stole a plant just to prove Showfall is fucking pathetic! Honestly, if I was sooooooo useful, how come everytime y'all have tried to get me back in my role, you dipshits failed! That's not counting the two times a member of PR tried to kill me! Honestly, if I'm so important, Manager, I'd expect more! You gave Edgar two fucking shows when y'all got him back!

Manager#0: [Nearly cutting her off, dryly.] Oh, woe is me. A single plant. Whatever will the company do without a single plant. [The camera jolts as he suddenly pokes his head around a corner created by one of the shelves, slowly turning back towards its original path as he’s met with nothing.] And I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Editor, you are extremely replaceable, but once you’ve caught the company’s eye, you’re not getting out of it. Why do you think the Mechanic got his shows? There’s no escaping us, not in any way that matters.

R: First. Not the point, I know you fuckers don't care. The point of stealing the plant was to show I could have an actual fucking target on my back and still get out! And hey! I managed to escape Showfall once--again, I haven't technically been here since June! Second, you contradicted yourself. Third, oh, I escaped once. I'll just do it again you son of a bitch! 

Manager#0: Security’s gotten tighter since your last escape, I wouldn’t be naive. [He casually shoves over a shorter display, and it falls with a crash.] And I haven’t contradicted anything. Your role here is important, but once you’ve finally been fired, we’ll just hire someone new to take it up. [Slight pause.] If you were willing to comply, then maybe I’d put in a good word for you, but, well. I do what the company wills. 

R: [A laugh.] Can I be honest? Twenty-seven fucking times I tried to escape the mall. Do you know what it's like to die that many times? I'm not going to give up, I've seen what the outside is like. It is a wonderful fucking thing. I'm not going to give up, until I am dead and fucking gone you piece of shit. If I have to go through you, Squig, Iris--HELL, FUCKING HETCH!--I will. I am getting out of here again.

[There’s a pause, neither party saying anything as the camera comes back out into the open, debris crunching underfoot.]

[Suddenly, there’s a deafening crack of sound. The camera pitches forward slightly.]

[The camera steadies again, and then pans down, slowly, red light illuminating a hole in the fabric of Manager#0’s suit jacket. Wiring slowly begins to spill from the wound.]

Manager#0: [Quietly.] No. Wait, no- No- [The camera sinks towards the floor as Manager#0 clutches his abdomen, letting out a loud cry of pain.] No, this- this can’t be happening!

R: I… I fucking did it. [She begins laughing.] I DID IT! I SHOT SOMEONE! IT TOOK TWO FUCKING TRIES BUT I DID IT!

Manager#0: [Whining.] It’s all going dark… the pain… 

[Rose pokes her head out, holding the gun close. A smile is draped across her face.]

R: Cry about it bitchboy, you dead yet?

[The camera snaps immediately in her direction.]

[Manager#0’s quiet sounds of pain suddenly disappear entirely, camera rising from the floor as he begins to snicker. He reaches his hand up from clutching the wound to re-adjust his glasses.]

Manager#0: Just kidding! [He chuckles as the camera tips to the side with his head.] Don’t feel a thing. 

[The camera begins to stalk towards her, lighting her and the wall behind her in a ruby glow.] 

Manager#0: [The smile in his voice is audible.] Nowhere left to run, Editor.

R: That’s where you're wrong, there's a lot of area to run! Oh--and gotcha!

[Before Manager#0 can reply, Rose ducks back behind the shelf, which, with a groan of metal, begins to tip forwards. Manager#0 lets out a small gasp, backing up, but not enough to get fully out of its reach before the shelf is crashing down onto him.]

R: HAHA, GET FUCKED, ASSHOLE! SPARROW, COME ON, TIME TO RUN! Or… roll, in your case.

?: [From somewhere further in the store.] Hm. Right.

[The sound of tires on tile is heard, as well as rapid footsteps, as the two people flee, seemingly going in different directions. Before they get too far, there’s a loud thunk as something hits the edge of the camera, bouncing off of it and falling out of frame.]

[The camera, which has been stuck looking at the ceiling, slowly gets back up, Manager#0 groaning as the HALO’s light flickers slightly, but stays on. His legs are revealed to be trapped under the metal. He glances to the side, and a metal soup can is still rolling on the floor. The logo reads “Aunt Claire’s Homestyle Chicken Noodle”.]

[Manager#0 sighs deeply, his hands momentarily coming up and covering the camera. The footage goes dark for a moment before he removes his hands and begins trying to lift the shelf off. The lighting slowly fades back to its usual unblinking white.]

[As he manages to get one leg free, his hand goes back up to the camera.]

Transcript has been ended. Thank you for using Showfall Media Video-To-Text! Posting... ]