#people in my life (such as my dad) and how to avoid falling into situations like that if its possible

[residencyisstrange]

mouthwashing is one of those important pieces of media to me because it opens my eyes to different topics and perspectives

[kurokawaia]

❛ DADZAI?? ❜

DAD!Dazai Osamu X MUM!Reader

WC: 1k+ | WARNINGS: x fem reader, reader is a mother, dazai is a father, you both have a daughter, ooc dazai? + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: hihihi!!! this idea has been stuck in my head for the longest time, And I absolutely love ur writing style!!!!!!!! So I’m wondering if it’s possible for you to write a dadzai x fem!reader and he has a little daughter!! Thank u!!! - ANON

m.list | bsd m.list

Dazai would be the ultimate playful dad. He'd constantly come up with games to entertain his daughter, he'd let her win every time! he doesn't love to see his little princess sad, he wants her happy all the time. No tears around here!

Dazai’s teasing extends to both you and your daughter. He’d affectionately poke fun at the little things, like when his daughter mispronounces words or when you’re caught being overly serious.

Dazai is very protective of the both of you, your his only family, your his wife, and she's his daughter. He makes sure everything is secure, he doesn't want either of you in danger, he's always looking out for the threats, especially considering what his last job was.

Dazai would constantly shower his daughter with affection, but in the most chaotic way possible. Imagine him picking her up and spinning her around until she’s dizzy with laughter, or carrying her on his shoulders >.<

After your daughter goes to bed, Dazai loves having lovey-dovey moments with you, kissing you, hugging you, teasing you, having sex with you, he loves you all.

Dazai always be thinking of spontaneous adventures to take you and your daughter on (yes he will avoid work by doing this, he's hitting two birds with one stone) loves to watch his little girl play on the playground, making sandcastles but he glares at any boys who goes up to her.

Protective Dazai! GLARES AT THE LITTLE BOYS WHO WALK UP TO HIS LITTLE PRINCESS 😭🙏🏼

Dazai’s attempts at teaching his daughter important life lessons would often be... unorthodox. He’d tell her bizarre metaphors or use strange examples... when she's older, in her teen years, she starts talking about a double suicide as well...

When his daughter comes home with school projects or arts and crafts, Dazai gets surprisingly into it. He’d help her build the most elaborate school project.

As much as he wants to shelter his daughter, Dazai also believes in giving her independence to explore the world. He trusts that with both of your guidance, she’ll grow into someone independent.

BEDTIME STORIES!! DAZAI LOVES PULLING GUNNY VOICES WHILE READING HIS PRINCESS A STORY! He’d act out characters, make exaggerated voices, and then cuddle up with her until she falls asleep, her tiny hand clutching his 🥺

Dazai and your daughter would often conspire against you in the cutest of ways, like pretending to plan a prank or plotting a surprise just to make you laugh.

Now.... Beast!Dazai as a father...

Dazai would soften in front of his daughter, would absolutely never get mad, never yell, none of that. He is incredibly protective of the both of you, almost to the point where he is paranoid because he's scared something might happen to you and his little princess.

Though he’s a feared man in the underworld, when he’s home, he’s a completely different person with his daughter. He’ll play peek-a-boo, help her chase butterflies, and allow her to style his hair (which is why he often has bows or clips in his hair when you come home)

He’s big on teaching his daughter how to read people and situations. Even from a young age, he’ll subtly point out things like body language, tone of voice, and how to trust her instincts. He wants her to be sharp and never get hurt, he doesn't want her to suffer in a world like his

Dazai spoils you both, bringing back gifts with him after missions, flowers, toys, all of that. He loves to see his girls happy.

On nights where he can’t sleep (which is often), you’ll find him in his daughter’s room, quietly watching her sleep (NOT IN A CREEPY WAY LAMFOBSOJBVLS) Sometimes, he’ll hum lullabies from his childhood to soothe himself as much as his daughter.

You are the one person who keeps Dazai grounded. While his daughter melts his heart, you provide him with emotional stability. He’ll confide in you about his fears of failing as a father, or anything, because he knows you're there to help him, to help him do teh right things, reassure him, telling him that he's doing the best.

Dazai trains his daughter in self defense. He doesn't want her involved in the mafia, he just wants her to be able to protect herself. He only does it when his pretty wifey isn't home though... he doesn't want to get scolded for you catching him teaching her how to wield and shoot a gun

Family nights every night! Dazai never knows when his last night will be so he makes you eat together, watch a movie, reading a story to his daughter every night without a fail because he chesrishes these moments so much.

Dazai isn’t big on over-the-top displays of affection in public, but when it’s just you and him, he’ll wrap his arms around you, especially when he’s feeling vulnerable. He’ll kiss your forehead or play with your hair.

Dazai would raise his daughter to be independent. He’ll often praise her when she tries to solve problems on her own, even if it’s just something as small as putting her toys away. He wants her to grow up capable, strong enough so a man doesn't need to provide for her (even if shes an adult, dazai will never approve of a man with her)

Though Dazai is laid-back around you, once his daughter starts showing affection to other male figures, whether it's an innocent crush or just bonding with a friend, he’ll get hilariously overprotective. You’d have to reassure him that his little girl isn’t going anywhere 😭🙏🏼

He has a habit of giving his daughter cute nicknames, princess, my little girl, my little princess!

Dazai occasionally fears that he won’t be a good father because of his past and the world he’s still involved in. But you remind him that he’s doing his best, and the love he has for both you and his daughter is more than enough to prove he’s a great dad.

Dazai has a hidden soft spot for his family (obviously). You often catch him staring at both of you with a soft, almost melancholic smile, as if he can’t believe he’s found something so pure and worth protecting.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[worseforwords]

The Arrangement

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter I of Marshmallow

“Sweetheart? Can you hear me?” your mom’s voice cackled through the phone. “Take your phone off your ear, mum, you’ve facetimed me,” you chuckled. “Oh, right. Hi, darling, lovely to SEE you,” she giggled at her own joke. “How are you, love? And where are you? I don’t recognise that wall behind you,” she inquired. “I’m in the changing room at Arsenal, you know, my job.” “Right, ‘course. Everything alright? How’s your g-” “Yeah, everything’s good,” you quickly interrupted her, hoping no one in the changing room caught on to what she was about to say. “I have to head to training soon, mum. Did you want anything from me?” “Right, busy woman, no time for chit-chat with her mum. Your dad and I were just wondering if we could come visit you anytime soon. We haven’t seen you since Christmas, and we would both really love to meet your girlfriend!” She said that last part with a bit too much excitement, and you were sure you saw some heads snap your way from the corner of your eye. “Ehh, yeah, I’m just a little busy at the moment with football, so I’m not sure when I’ll be free,” you said as you quickly turned down the volume of your phone. “I know, darling, but I noticed there’s no match scheduled the weekend after the next one, so you’ll be free then, right?” Another disadvantage of being a professional athlete: usually having a very public schedule. “Right, yeah, I think so. I’ll call you after training, mum.”

You hung up after both of you exchanged goodbyes and you immediately noticed a few eyes on you. One pair belonged to a smirking Katie, who quickly plumped herself down next to you. “What was that I heard? Does somebody have a new girlfriend?” “What the hell, why haven’t I heard about this?” Leah joined in. “Lotte, did you know?” Your roommate Lotte shook her head. “Haven’t seen or heard anyone at our house.” “How is that even possible?” Victoria wondered out loud. “Is it a long-distance thing?” Caitlin joined in on the conversation. By this point, you were surrounded by your teammates, gazing at you, awaiting answers, and your head was spinning, trying to come up with anything to explain your situation.

Ultimately you decided on just telling them the truth, knowing full well a lie wasn’t getting you out of this situation. “There is no girlfriend,” you said quietly. Clearly, your answer wasn’t satisfactory as everyone kept staring at you frantically. “My parents kept asking me when I would finally bring someone home because my brother and sister are both happily married or engaged homeowners starting their own families. They keep telling me not to wait until it’s too late. At Christmas, when they started again, I finally snapped. I lied and told them I have a girlfriend.” You took a quick breath before you continued. “Only it backfired because now they won’t stop asking me about her, and apparently, I have to find a girlfriend within the next week or so.” You let your head fall into your hands dramatically. There was a short silence as everyone around you processed what you had just told them. Then a loud shriek as Katie burst out laughing. “Oh boy, you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble, mate!” she shouted. “Good luck with that.”

The next few minutes were filled with everyone either light-heartedly teasing your situation or attempting to play matchmaker and find you a girlfriend, which you knew was futile with only 10 days to go. This was precisely why you avoided going on dates. All the unwarranted attention and people meddling in your life, you didn't need it. You’d rather concentrate on the love of your life that you did have some control over: football. Fortunately, Kim took her captaincy very seriously and summoned everyone out of the changing room for training to begin, but not before sending you a sympathetic smile as you mouthed a quick “thank you” to her.

Training went by swiftly, and afterward, some of the girls gathered at Beth and Viv’s for dinner. You sat on the sofa with Laura and Viv as Alessia was directing Vic in the kitchen, and Beth was setting the table. “So, Y/N, are you going to tell your parents the truth about your girlfriend... or lack thereof?” Laura asked. “I don’t know; it’ll be so embarrassing. And I definitely won’t be able to hold off on them trying to set me up with their neighbour’s son, who is studying to be a doctor, or my mum’s colleague’s daughter who’s in law school.” You imitated your mom as you talked about the people your parent wanted to set you up with before dramatically making a barf gesture. “But what else can you do?” Viv asked. “Let’s see... Fake my own death and start a new life elsewhere? Start studying robotics and learn to design my own robot girlfriend? Pretend I’ve got short-term memory loss and have forgotten who my own girlfriend is?”

“Okay, I need to join in on this, scoot,” Beth waved her hands, gesturing for you to move over. “The fact that you thought of building a robot girlfriend before considering finding an actual girlfriend is insane,” she said, almost like she was scolding you. “I get it,” mumbled Viv as Beth immediately sent her a stern glare to which she responded with by blowing her a quick kiss. “I don’t want a relationship right now. Besides, 10 days is way too little time to find someone,” you said, ignoring their antics. “Fine, have it your way, go with the robot. Vic can help you; she’s studied maths,” she joked as she got up again. “Excuse me,” Vic got involved from the kitchen. “Which of my subjects do you think is about robot girlfriends?” She giggled. “I say go with the Dory thing.”

“Vic, stir this sauce for a bit, please,” Alessia spoke sternly as she turned towards all of you. “Okay, I can’t believe no one has thought of this, but the solution is very simple. You just find someone who can pretend to be your girlfriend for the weekend your parents visit,” she explained as all of you listened. “Yes! Less, that’s a perfect plan,” Beth exclaimed. “But who should it be? Maybe you can hire an actor!” She added as you seriously considered this option for a moment. “Hm, I don’t know, seems kind of risky if they don’t really know me,” you said. 

“Yeah, you should probably pick a friend, someone you’ve known for a while and who knows what you’re up to these days,” Laura stated. “Sooo, maybe a teammate?” Vic suggested. “Yes!” Beth shouted again. “A teammate. But who? Obviously not someone who is openly dating someone else already, so me and Viv are out,” she then stated more calmly. “Laura and I can’t make it either, we’re going out with the Aussies, remember?” Vic asked as Laura nodded.

A silence fell as everyone sort of stared at Alessia, who was too focused on her cooking to notice. “Less?” Beth caught her attention, making her jump a little when she noticed everyone’s hopeful gazes fixated on her. “Are you available?” she asked. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll do it.” Alessia sent you a quick smile before continuing to make dinner. “That settles it then,” Beth said, giving you no say in the matter whatsoever. If you were being honest, though, you were just glad you had found somewhat of a solution to your problem. Besides, you didn’t know Alessia that well, the two of you usually being in different friend groups within the team and you had been intrigued to get to know her better for a while now.

The next few days in training everyone was mostly focussed on the game ahead. Some new pieces of gossip flooded the changing room and much to your delight, you and your love life were left unspoken of. It almost seemed a bit too good to be true, and you were now starting to worry it had all been a joke that you took too seriously. After all, the whole plan was a bit insane, definitely unlike anything you had ever done before. Were you just too desperate to notice that it was all banter?

"Everything alright, Y/N?” Alessia's voice jolted you from your mental spirals. “You seem a bit distracted.” “Yeah, all good. My mind just wandered for a second.” You feigned a smile. “Okay.” She returned the smile. “Hey, Alessia,” you began before she could exit the changing room. “Can I talk to you for a second?” “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” She settled herself beside you.

“So, you know about our crazy fake girlfriend plan, and—” “Correction, it’s my crazy plan, not ‘our’. My idea.” She interjected with a satisfied expression. “Right, your crazy plan. Anyhow, I realise you were put on the spot when Beth asked if you were available. I just wanted to say you don’t have to do it; I can find someone else,” you spoke hesitantly. “Oh no, I want to do it. Unless you’d prefer someone else, of course.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly clarified. “Alright then, let’s do it.” You offered a shy smile. “Ehh, I hope that’s not how you planned on asking me,” she giggled. You shot her an ‘are you serious?’ look. She responded with what you assumed was her best ‘yes, I’m serious, how dare you even question that’ expression. “Give me one second.”

You darted around the corner, returning a few seconds later with a ring made from bright blue kinesiology tape. “Alessia Russo, will you do me the honour of being my fake girlfriend for the weekend?” you proposed, getting down on one knee before her. “Yes, YES, a thousand times yes!” She dramatically pretended to swoon as you slid the makeshift ring onto her finger.

“Right, so my parents will be visiting from Friday night until Sunday, most likely,” you swiftly changed the subject, attempting to avoid any blush creeping onto your cheeks. “But you don’t have to be there for the entire duration, of course. If you could just pop in for a bit on Saturday, that would be great,” you suggested. “Oh, well I don’t really have any other plans because I assumed this would be an all-weekend kind of thing,” she replied softly, and you felt the warmth in your cheeks intensify. “And Dan is out of town anyway.”

Right, Dan. Her boyfriend. You were aware of him, you had met him – this wasn’t new information. So why did you suddenly feel a knot tightening in your stomach at Alessia mentioning him? “So, what do you want me to be like?” She brought you back from your thoughts. “What do you mean?” You asked. “I mean, how do you want me to be around your parents? We’ve got to impress them, right?” She explained. “Oh, just be yourself. They’ll love you. I know they will,” you assured her as she got up from the bench, ready to go warm up.

“Whatever happened in here?” Leah asked as she entered the changing room, followed by some other girls, right after Alessia had left. “What do you mean?” You inquired. “Well, Less just almost walked into me; she was all flustered and smiley, and now here you are, looking all flustered and upset,” she explained. “Nothing happened. I’m not upset. Just a bit nervous about my parents visiting and everything,” you lied. Either Leah didn’t notice or she decided to let you off the hook, but either way, she didn’t ask any further questions about it. As one of your best friends, Leah knew you very well, and she also knew that questioning you in a room full of people was the worst thing she could do to you. 

“So is Less still coming?” Beth inquired. “Yes,” you mumbled, not wanting everyone to get involved again, but with no success. “Less?” Katie jumped in. “Why would she come?” Luckily, Beth came to your aid and explained the whole situation to everyone there so you didn’t have to.

“That’s a great plan,” Katie finally spoke. “But how will we make it believable?” “I’m sorry, we?” You tried to interrupt. “We should quiz them!” Beth suggested loudly, ignoring you entirely. “What is happening?” You mumbled to Leah who just laughed at you in response. “Yes! Lotte, can you come up with some questions about Less, and Leah, you can do the same for Y/N.” 

Somehow, everyone had agreed on the quiz idea, and once again, you had no say in it. On Wednesday night, a few of the girls gathered at Lotte and your place to prepare you and Alessia for the weekend. The anticipation in the air was as thick as the excitement before a big match. Tables were set up, and a stack of papers with questions lay in the centre. Lotte, with her mischievous smile, and Leah, ever ready for a good laugh, were the architects of this grand interrogation.

You, Alessia, and the rest of the team settled in around the living room. The atmosphere was a mix of nerves and amusement, everyone eager to see how this plan would unfold. Beth, who put on an oversized blazer and a bright red Arsenal bowtie for the occasion, took charge, announcing the rules with a theatrical flourish.

“Alright, everyone! Welcome to the Ultimate Fake Girlfriend Quiz Night!” She exclaimed, earning a round of laughter. “We’ve got questions about Y/N for Alessia and questions about Alessia for Y/N. Let’s see how well our fake couple knows each other.” The room erupted into cheers. Lotte, holding a list of questions about Alessia, winked at you. Leah, armed with questions about you, looked equally mischievous.

The first round began, and Leah fired off questions about you. Alessia, to everyone’s surprise, answered with remarkable accuracy. “Alright, Alessia,” Leah said with a smirk, “what’s Y/N’s guilty pleasure snack?”

Alessia pondered for a moment, a playful glint in her eyes. “Chocolate-covered pretzels. She hides them in the back of a cabinet, but I always find them.” Laughter filled the room. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Alessia, impressed and slightly amused that she had picked up on your secret indulgence. Apparently her close friendship with your roommate had given her quite an advantage.

Lotte, taking her turn, quizzed you about Alessia’s life. “What’s Alessia’s weirdest talent?” she asked with a sly grin. You thought for a moment, realising Alessia had shared a few quirky skills in the changing room. “She can do this weird thing with her tongue, like roll it into a clover shape. It’s bizarrely impressive.”

Alessia blushed, seemingly surprised that you remembered such a minor detail. The room erupted into cheers again. As the quiz progressed, Alessia consistently demonstrated an uncanny knowledge of your habits and likes. It seemed like she had been paying much more attention than you thought.

The highlight came when Leah, with a devious smile, presented the final question: “What’s Y/N’s weirdest habit in the morning?” Alessia, grinning confidently, answered, “She talks to herself in the mirror while doing her hair. Full-on conversations with her own reflection.” Your face turned crimson, and a chorus of laughter echoed through the room. You shot Alessia a playful glare.

The quiz ended and the consensus was clear — Alessia and you knew each other surprisingly well, considering this was supposed to be a fake relationship. However, Katie, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist stirring the pot.

She leaned forward with a teasing grin. “So, you two aced the quiz, but do you even have any chemistry?” Her question hung in the air, causing a collective intake of breath from the spectators. Alessia looked at you, a subtle uncertainty in her eyes. “Seriously, guys, you need to up your game. You look way too platonic.”

Your teammates, now fully invested in your fake romance, decided to play relationship coaches. “Alright, stand up,” Beth commanded. “Let’s see how you two handle physical proximity. Hug. Now.” You and Alessia exchanged a glance, both feeling a bit awkward. You hesitated for a moment before tentatively wrapping your arms around each other. The teammates observed and then erupted into a chorus of opinions.

“Too stiff!”

“More like you mean it!”

“Look into each other’s eyes, not the ceiling!”

You and Alessia shared an amused yet bewildered look. The teammates continued their analysis, discussing everything from hand-holding techniques to the positioning of your bodies. It was like a crash course in relationship theatrics. “Alright, sit down,” Beth commanded again. “You two are sitting too far apart. Scoot closer.”

As you and Alessia moved to sit side by side, Steph suggested, “Try a more casual touch. Like, Y/N, put your hand on Alessia’s leg.” Panic flashed across your face, but you complied, very carefully placing your hand on Alessia’s leg. The room erupted into laughter again.

“Okay, she said casual, Y/N. She’s not made of thin glass now is she?” Beth joked, and Alessia chuckled as you adjusted your grip, secretly wanting to disappear into the couch. The teammates continued to give advice, critiquing every move and gesture. Amidst the laughter and chaos, Laura suggested, “You guys should try the 36 Questions. You know, that study that makes people fall in love?”

That mention drew curious looks from you and Alessia. Beth explained, “People say you’ll fall in love if you answer them honestly with someone. It could help you two look more... well, in love.” The idea was met with a mix of enthusiasm and skepticism. “Homework for our fake couple!” Beth declared, and everyone laughed.

As the evening wound down, the teammates left your place. Everyone but Alessia, who offered to help you clean the place up. Lotte went to bed, leaving you and your now approved ‘fake girlfriend’ with a newfound list of relationship do’s and don’ts, along with the prospect of a homework assignment that promised to make your fake relationship more convincing.

“So… I guess we’ve got some homework to do,” you said, feeling very awkward all of a sudden now that it was just you two. You then realised you had never really hung out together without at least one other person being there. “Yeah, 36 questions,” she started as she grabbed her phone. “Do you believe in this?”

“No of course not,” you said, ever the sceptic. “But I do believe Katie is gonna murder us if we don’t do our homework. Both of you exchanged glances like, ‘Are we really doing this?’ and rolled your eyes in silent agreement that this was a bit of a silly experiment.

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” She read the first question from her phone, immediately gazing at the ceiling as if in thought about her answer. “I bet yours would be Michael Jordan,” you said. “Hey, I’m asking you about your answer not mine!” She giggled as she elbowed your shoulder. 

“Fine, let me think. Do they have to be alive?” You wondered. “I mean I guess it says ‘anyone’, so if you want to have dinner with a corpse, by all means,” she chuckled. “No, not like that, ew,” you now elbowed her. “I just mean I would love to have dinner with my grandma. She’s sacrificed so much for our family, but I only ever knew her as a child so I’ve never been able to thank her for it.” Still in thought you stared at your feet for a bit until you realised it had been quiet for a while in your living room. 

“Sorry,” you said, quickly looking up and finding Alessia’s eyes already on you with a look you couldn’t quite place. “I’ll just go with Beyoncé, she’d be a cool dinner guest,” you quickly changed your answer. “No, no, that was really sweet. I bet your grandma would love to have dinner with you too. And I’m sure she knew you’d be grateful,” she said softly, her eyes remaining on yours. “Yeah well, you just called her a corpse so that idea is kind of ruined for me now,” you teased. “No I didn’t!” She protested.

The first couple of questions were mostly light and you chuckled at each other’s silly answers. However, as you continued down the list, the questions became increasingly deep and personal and as eye-rolls turned into thoughtful pondering, you both found yourselves sharing way more than you had expected. 

Alessia’s responses were open and honest as she shared stories about her childhood dreams, the hurdles in her football journey, and her aspirations beyond the pitch. One question, in particular, struck a chord: “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?” Alessia’s response was heartfelt. “I’d want to be fearless. Not just on the field, but in life. There are times when I feel held back by my own doubts and fears. I’d love to face everything without that weight.”

Her openness made it easy for you to share your own dreams and fears. The conversation flowed easily, moving through topics of love, aspirations, and personal histories. It felt like something shifted between the two of you. Alessia was no longer just a teammate or a fake girlfriend to you. She was someone you could talk to, someone you felt a genuine connection with and you had a newfound appreciation for her.

By the time you had finished the first set of questions you finally looked at the time. “Oh my god, Alessia, it’s 2 am!” You both jumped up. Two hours had passed since everyone had left and you had an early training the next morning. “Really? How did that happen. I should run then,” she said.

“Hey, do you want to stay over?” You asked as you immediately noticed her questioning expression. “In the guest room I mean. Just cause we have an early training tomorrow and I don’t want you to be exhausted.” You quickly added. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” She smiled shyly at you. “Okay, be right back.” You stated as you sprinted towards your bedroom.

You returned a few minutes later with a bunch of stuff in your arms. “Here’s an unused toothbrush, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and I didn’t know what you like to sleep in so here’s some shorts, joggers, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Wear whatever you want.” You rambled nervously as she chuckled. “Thank you Y/N. Good night.”

The next morning, your alarm blared, pulling you from the depths of sleep. Groggily, you stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Training awaited, and as you yawned your way through the morning routine, the events of the previous night flashed in your mind. You couldn’t help but glance at Alessia, who was already up, seemingly more awake than you were. She flashed you a tired yet friendly smile. “Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Morning,” you replied, trying to shake off the remnants of your dreams. The two of you exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the peculiar situation you found yourselves in.

As you headed to training together, you couldn’t ignore the amused glances from your teammates. Alessia, clad in your training gear because she hadn’t brought her own, was the target of playful banter. “Nice walk of shame, Alessia!” Katie teased, eliciting laughter from others. “You two look tired, looks like our chemistry experiments worked a little too wel!” Quipped Beth, pointing out the bags under both your eyes.

Training progressed as usual, but not without the occasional teasing from one of your teammates. You knew none of them really meant anything by it though. Everyone knew it was just a bit and that the two of you were no more than friends. And so did you, cause that was the deal, right? 

“You know,” Alessia began when the two of you were alone for a second after Katie asked her when you were planning your next sleepover, “despite all the teasing and the fake girlfriend stuff, I’m kind of enjoying getting to know you better.” You felt your cheeks starting to flush as you took in her genuine smile. “Yeah, me too. It’s strange how these things work out.” You tried your best to reciprocate her smile without blushing too hard. What on earth was happening to you?

The day went by swiftly as the prospect of having Alessia around as your fake girlfriend all weekend had you slowly spiral into a nervous wreck. When Friday afternoon finally arrived, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror as you went over the many things that could go wrong. What if your parents didn’t believe it? What if they did? What would that even mean? What if she never even showed up cause who were you to think she would do something like that for you? What if her boyfriend got mad? What if she suddenly started liking you, for real? What if she didn’t?

You splashed water in your face, desperately trying to stop your mind from spiralling, and more specifically to erase those last thoughts. Where was your mind coming up with all this none-sense? Was there something more to this? Another splash. No. None-sense. You groaned as you watched drops of water trickle down your face. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?” You heard Lotte’s voice call out from the other side of the locked bathroom door. “Less is here.” You inhaled a sharp breath as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself. “Be right there!”

“You’re early,” is the first thing you said when you came out of the bathroom after quickly drying yourself off and fixing your hair. “Nice to see you too.” A kindly smiling Alessia appeared once you opened the door. “Thought I’d help you prepare before your parents show up. Hey, are you okay?” She gazed at you as if she was examining your current state. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, hi, thank you for being here.” You opened up your arms as an invitation for a hug which she accepted immediately.

“Allright, lovebirds, I’m out.” Lotte said, suitcase in hand as she hugged you both goodbye, leaving for a little romantic getaway with her boyfriend. “Have fun!” You both shouted at the same time as she closed the door behind herself.

You spent the next hour or so getting the house ready for your parent’s arrival and providing Alessia with all the necessary information on your family, as if you were doing a last minute study session for an exam.

Then, a knock on the door echoed through the house, signalling the arrival of your parents. A surge of nerves shot through you as you exchanged a quick glance with Alessia. You both took a deep breath, steeling yourselves for the upcoming performance. “Ready?” Alessia whispered, and you nodded, though your heart was doing a drumroll in your chest.

-> Chapter II

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.1

Summary: You're a Lit professor at Blackmoor University when you meet Samantha Carpenter. Life becomes... a lot more exciting with her around.

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, bullying, sister arguments Pairing: Sam Carpenter x GN!Reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

You liked Sam.

No, that was quite the understatement. You would almost - almost - go so far as to say you loved her! Not quite yet, obviously, you still weren’t completely, absolutely positive. But you were pretty certain that the things you felt for her could be classified as love. At least that’s what your dad said love was, and he had been happily married for 41 years at that time, so how could you possibly argue with that kind of experience?

It wasn’t like you had meant to fall in love with her. Not that you actively avoided it, you just… hadn’t been looking for her. Both you and Sam had a habit of lying when people asked how you met; they always assumed it was some kind of meet-cute. Her friend Mindy was determined it was something adorable, like meeting at a coffee shop or running into each other at the library.

The truth, the cold hard truth, was much more ridiculous.

“Why are you watching me?”

You blinked hard and looked up at the… woman (?) standing in front of you. She was all blurry and all you could really make out was dark hair and beautifully brown skin. If you really squinted, you could see just enough of her posture that, when coupled with the tone, was indicative of frustration. Maybe even anger, if you pushed it.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t know I was.”

“How could you not know?” She asked, her tone staying incredibly not happy.

“I, uh-” you cleared your throat, “-I couldn’t see you.”

Her laugh was condescending. And pretty. “You were looking right at me.” Her blurry frame shifted. “Come up with a better excuse.”

This strange woman was rather mean, wasn’t she? You kind of liked it.

“It’s not an excuse,” you said once her frame had officially stopped moving.

“Then how did you not see me?” She asked. “What are you, blind?”

You smiled to yourself and set your bagel down. “Kind of,” you said as you lifted your head to face her. Or at least you hoped you were. “I forgot my glasses at my office.”

“Fuck,” she said softly. Her tense tone had disappeared rather quickly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Sounds like you’re used to being watched.”

“You have no idea,” she said quickly.

Wait. That was an opening. You hadn’t talked to a woman outside of work in ages. This was your chance!

“Want to sit down over coffee some time and talk about it?”

You really really wished you hadn’t forgotten your glasses. Without them, you couldn’t see the look on her face. Did she think your question was rather rash? Rude, even? Or perhaps she thought it was a welcome idea, even just to get something off her chest. From the sound of it, she had a lot on her mind.

“Sure,” she said eventually. “I’d like that.”

The rest, as they say, was history. You had both gotten your coffee and you hadn’t forgotten your glasses again. Which made the coffee date a little awkward because then you could see just how truly beautiful she was, and you had not been prepared for it. She had watched you become a stuttering fool who could only spout random, unwarranted facts about things.

By some miracle, she had asked you on a dinner date.

The singular benefit of the entire situation was that you had met at the very beginning of summer break. You had decided not to teach a summer class that year, instead opting to use the hotter months to find more material that you could bring to the fall semester. There had to be a wider range of literature from the Romantic Period outside of what the school had already been teaching when you joined the staff. The literature classes at the moment were so… basic.

Because of this, work never came up. Sam never asked, and you never even thought to tell simply because… well, you just hadn’t thought of it. You hadn’t been hiding your profession, you hadn’t even tried to be sneaky about it. After all, your entire apartment was filled with tomes and first editions of novels and the closest thing you could get to original manuscripts of the ancients. And Sam had very certainly seen the inside of your apartment more than once.

The thought had  never occurred to you to bring up what you did for a living. After all, you finally had a girl…friend? You weren’t quite sure if that term could be used officially, but you were going to use it in your internal monologue. Regardless, this was the first time in years, how were you supposed to remember everything she might want to know? Besides, it wasn’t like she had asked yet.

And neither had her sister! Who, unfortunately, you were starting to think didn’t like you. She had never said it out loud, so you couldn’t be sure, but she made sure to give you a, uh, look whenever you would come over. Sam had told you that Tara loved movies - horror movies to be precise - and you had even managed to find a rare copy of a “famous” B-list movie for her!

It still didn’t work.

“Do I need to try and cook dinner for her one night?” You asked, looking up from your book. Sam was still doing her own studying for her night classes.

“If you cook for Tara, she will eat you alive,” Sam said without missing a beat. “She had to cook for herself for years, she will tear you apart.”

“She’s so scary,” you whispered to yourself before looking back down at your lecture notes. “What if I found the original script of her favourite movie?”

At that, Sam put her pen down. Your stomach fluttered; had you said something wrong? Oh of course you had, you absolute fool. You don’t question someone about how to win over their siblings! Well… did you? Maybe you needed to do some research on the topic.

“Your efforts are sweet,” she said with a soft smile, “but you can’t push Tara. She’ll come around when she’s ready.”

You frowned. “How will she be ready if I don’t try?”

“Trust the process,” she said. She leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before going back to her studying, and you were left stewing in your own thoughts.

The process didn’t make any sense.

—---

“Do you have to go?” Sam asked in a raspy voice.

You looked up from tying your shoes. Sam had rolled over to her other side on the bed, giving you the perfect view of her. Her hair was a mess and her eyes could barely stay open, but she looked just as beautiful as always. The sun had barely started to peek through the curtains to hit her skin at just the right angle. It looked like she was glowing.

Maybe you didn’t have to go.

No, you had students waiting, of course you had to go.

“I’ll be back after work,” you said quietly. Her eyes were still mostly closed, and you didn’t want to jolt her awake; she deserved her beauty rest.

“Be safe,” she said.

You finished tying your shoe and stood up, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the lips. She sighed softly. “I’ll be safe.” You placed one more kiss on her forehead before pulling back. She quickly fell back into bed, already fast asleep.

Thankfully, all of your stuff was outside the bedroom. It made it easier to stay quiet, tip-toeing your way out of the room and easing the door open and shut with as little noise as possible. You waited a moment, listening through the door to see if she had woken up, but nodded to yourself in confirmation before turning back around.

And facing Tara.

“Your nerd shit is by the door,” Tara said a little louder than you would have liked. She was going to wake up Sam if she didn’t quiet down a bit.

“Thank you,” you said. Because of course that was something normal people said in that situation. “Are you, uh, headed to class?”

You gestured your head toward her backpack. Which was clearly filled with school books. Which you were more than aware meant that yes, of course she was heading to school. Where else would she be going? You weren’t doing a very good job at winning her over, now she was going to think you were stupid.

“No, I’m running away,” Tara said with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh,” you said sadly. Then, her words clicked in your mind and you perked up. “Oh.” Okay, she wasn’t going to think you were stupid, she was simply going to bully you.

Jokes on her, you had been bullied all your life, you were practically a professional.

“I’m heading that way too,” you said as you ungraciously shoved your arms through your jacket. “Want to go together?”

Tara looked you up and down for only a fraction of a second. “Absolutely not.”

You watched, dejected, as she exited the apartment without another word. Although you weren’t entirely surprised, you weren’t exactly happy about the situation. Well, there went one of your chances at winning her over. You would have to try again next time. And maybe not be so… what did you hear Tara call you the other day… pathetic in your attempts.

Which was going to be rather hard to do when you couldn’t even catch your bus, leading to you having to walk the long distance to the university. It led to you shedding your jacket before getting halfway to your destination, and blisters on the backs of your heels from your shoes. Maybe you didn’t need to dress quite the same if you were leaving Sam's apartment; clearly it wasn’t a safe choice.

You were nine minutes and 27 seconds late to your class.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you said the moment you stepped into the classroom. Everyone was still talking, but they quieted down slowly. “I missed my bus.” You tossed your briefcase onto the desk and started digging for your papers. “Which means, lucky for you, we can skip icebreakers and get right to it.”

There was a mix of mumbled approval and sighs of relief at the release from icebreakers. You would admit, you weren’t too upset about it either. Even though it did help everyone learn names - ahem, it helped you learn their names - it was rather intimidating. No one knew what to say, it put everyone on the spot, and more often than not ended up with no one talking the entire semester. This was better for everyone, and at least you had an excuse.

“Alright,” you huffed, finally pulling the stack of papers out of your briefcase, “pass these around while I tell you about the changes in readings.” Groans quickly followed. “You won’t be buying more textbooks, I’ve got PDFs to share.”

You quickly handed the stack of papers to the student closest to the front, giving them a smile and a mouthed “thank you.” She smiled back and nodded before handing them back. Even as you reached back to grab your own notes, you finally, finally looked out at the class.

And froze when you met a pair of familiar brown eyes.

Tara had a look that you would have classified as “furious.” Although her nose scrunched up like Sam’s, and you could truly see the family resemblance in their anger. That was… well, it sure was something. You hoped you could grow to get used to all of this enough to keep a professional demeanour in class. It wouldn’t do you any good to lose it now simply because your girlfriend’s (?) sister was in your class.

Admittedly, class went on without a hitch. Eventually, after nearly the entire hour had passed, Tara had managed to relax enough to look over the syllabus and even give her input on a few of the readings you had changed up. She was smart. You hadn’t heard much from her, but she was incredibly smart. It was going to be a delight to hear her opinions throughout the semester.

“Alright everyone, I’ll let you out a few minutes early,” you said once you had thoroughly exhausted everything on the syllabus. Had you really needed to take as long as you had? No, but you weren’t going to miss a single piece of information. The point of teaching was to prepare everyone for success, not to throw information out at them and hope they could comprehend it well enough on their own.

The class quickly started packing up, talking about nothing that you had told them about. Which was as expected. You hadn’t been teaching for too long, but you weren’t naive; you knew students usually only cared during class and gave up as soon as they were free.

“Oh, Miss Carpenter,” you said quickly, catching Tara right before she left. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Your heart beat loudly in your chest as Tara sighed, but otherwise nodded and trudged back into class. She didn’t sit, but stayed standing on the other side of the desk. A defence mechanism if ever you saw once. Though, judging by the scar you could see on her hand, you assumed it was for good reason.

“I want to check in with you that my presence won’t negatively impact your time in this class,” you said once everyone had finished filing out of the room.

“Will my presence negatively impact your time with my sister?” She shot back quickly. Why was she so fast? You didn’t answer. She sighed and shook her head. “I’m a big girl, I can handle you as my professor for one semester.” 

“Good,” you said with repetitive nods. “Please inform me if you change your mind.” Tara rolled her eyes, but you weren’t phased. “I do not mean to impede upon your success.”

“Shut up,” she said softly, “you sound like such a parent.”

“I mean it, Tara,” you continued. “You don’t have to like Sam and me, but I don’t want it to impact your life-”

“-Oh my god, I get it,” she interrupted quickly. Her weight shifted between her feet. “Just shut up already, I have another class to get to.”

“Okay,” you said with a gesture toward the door. “Stay safe.”

Tara didn’t bother answering before practically sprinting out the door. You hoped she was being serious about not being too influenced with you as her professor. It was against every part of your being to create a barrier between her and her academics. If she didn’t like you, that was one thing, but if it caused a problem? You would have to talk to Sam about it.

Oh god, you did sound like a parent.

By the time all your classes had ended and you could finally head back to Sam’s apartment, you had nearly forgotten all about Tara being in your class. Now, it certainly didn’t help that you were so focused on getting back to Sam so you could crawl into bed with her and rest. You clearly had better things to think about than a potential, unconfirmed incident at school.

Well, you thought you had better things to think about. When you approached Sam’s apartment door, you could hear elevated voices inside. Elevated voices that were related to each other. And that were surely unhappy about something. Oh gosh. You debated walking away, but what if they were in trouble?

You would not have been the one to save them, but by golly if you weren’t going to try.

“They’re one of my professors, Sam,” Tara shouted while you walked into the apartment.

Oh jeez. You should not have tried to save anyone. Sam was standing near the couch with her arms crossed defensively across her chest. Across from her, Tara was near the kitchen, her backpack and books strewn along the table as if she had thrown it there. Which, judging by her apparent anger, was likely.

“You can’t just date one of my professors,” she continued. “That’s so wrong.”

“You’re an adult, Tara,” Sam said, “you can handle one semester of this.”

You debated stepping in, but couldn’t decide if that would make things better or worse. Clearly Tara had an issue, and you didn’t want to throw it back in her face. That certainly wouldn’t help you win her over. You decided to stay put for the moment.

“I don’t trust them, Sam,” Tara practically shouted. Not quite, but she was building it up. “They just want to show up, worm their way into every part of our lives, and I’m not supposed to be suspicious?” She asked. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“This isn’t-” Sam stopped when she met your eyes.

Tara turned around at Sam’s sudden halt, groaning when she saw you standing there. You lifted your shaky hand slowly, giving a half-hearted wave. Sam’s eyes softened as she watched you, but Tara’s only hardened. And, you supposed you couldn’t fully blame her. She… made a good point.

“I can head out,” you said softly.

“Good-”

“-Don’t.” Tara and Sam said at the same time. Sam glared at the younger Carpenter. “You don’t have to go.”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” you said with a slight shake of your head. “I can come back another time.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she said.

“Seriously?” Tara asked. “We’re talking.”

“And we can talk when I get back,” Sam said quickly. She practically pushed you out the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You didn’t get to see Tara’s face at Sam’s order. No doubt it was… not happy. It made you… sad to see them arguing, especially about something as insignificant as you. There was absolutely no reason they should be arguing about you.

Perhaps there was also a small bit of relief at being an only sibling.

Sam leaned against the door and closed her eyes before letting out a drawn out sigh. Your inexperience got the better of you; you didn’t know what to do. Not only had you not had a girlfriend for *ahem* a little while, you also didn’t have siblings. Was this normal behaviour for siblings? For sisters? Surely it was.

No, you needed to think, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Sam was clearly upset in some form, and you needed to do something to comfort her. What was comforting? Ah, you knew. You reached forward carefully and grabbed Sam’s hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. They linked together perfectly, like they were meant to be.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked down at your hands. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she looked back up at you. There was a slight crinkle at the corners of her eyes; the main indication of her smile that she was holding back. You loved that crinkle.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Don’t be,” you said with your own smile as you pulled her closer to you. “I don’t blame her for being cautious.”

“I guess it’s my own fault,” Sam said. You both started slowly making your way down the stairs. “I openly disapproved of her partner, so.”

“Payback,” you said with a nod.

“I didn’t know you were a professor,” she said shyly.

You chuckled. “I didn’t know you didn’t know.”

“Tell me about it?” She asked.

You both stepped onto the ground floor in tandem. As much as you wanted to stand there with her all night, you knew she needed to have a talk with Tara. If any of you wanted this to work, you would have to put in the effort and do the things you didn’t want to. At the moment, it was Sam and Tara hashing it out.

“Over dinner?” You suggested. “Next Thursday?” She smiled. “I don’t have class Friday morning and a co-worker suggested this delightful little bistro.”

“That sounds great,” she said. “But you’re paying.”

“It’s only fair,” you said with a shrug. “I suppose this mess is my fault.”

“100%,” she said, biting her bottom lip immediately after.

You didn’t have to be experienced to know what to do next. Her arms instinctively wrapped around your neck as she pulled you closer. Your hands fell to her hips, holding her securely against you. You didn’t have to move very far to kiss her. She tasted lovely; the taste of chocolate, a splash of wine, and the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

She tasted like love

—---

The countdown to your date with Sam had seemed to drag on endlessly. The days seemed to go by too slowly, you only got to talk to her on occasion, and you had been thrown back into the swing of things with… far too many classes to preside over. It was your own fault, of course, but that didn’t make it any more tolerable.

Add to that the fact that Tara, while behaving herself, was keen on giving you some rather distasteful looks during class? It was a rather long week.

But the day had finally arrived! You had finished your class and practically sprinted - to the best of your ability - to the bus stop to get back to your apartment. A simple shower to freshen up, a new change of clothes, and you were all set to go. You stopped by the little bodega on the way, purchasing a small bouquet of flowers, and then you were on your way once again.

Sam had texted you earlier in the day, telling you to stay in the lobby and let her know when you were there. You assumed, rightfully, that it was because Tara was up in the apartment. Things might have been resolved, but that didn’t mean she had to like you yet. It was a fair compromise for the moment.

You texted her as soon as you stepped into the lobby, and she said she would be down momentarily. That was alright, at least the lobby was cool compared to the hot post-summer air outside. It wasn’t miserable, but it was enough that you weren’t too keen on being stuck outside.

“Nice shoes,” a voice said. “They look clean, where’d you get ‘em?”

You looked up from the hole you were staring into the floor to meet the eyes of a youngster coming into the lobby. They had rather kind eyes and a smile that, though accentuated by scars on both sides, was one of the most genuine you believed you had ever seen.

“Thank you,” you said as you rolled your shoulders back. “They’re from, ah, Allen Edmonds? Rockefeller Plaza?”

“I think I know that place, yeah,” the person said. “You’d recommend them?”

“Of course,” you said with a nod. “They’ve been the finest quality shoes I own.”

“I’ll have to check ‘em out,” the person continued. They nodded at the flowers in your hand. “For a girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you said, “she’s on her way down.”

“She’ll love ‘em,” they said kindly. “I’m on my way up to see my girlfriend, so I’ll leave ya alone.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “You two have a wonderful evening.”

“You too,” they said with a crooked half-smile and a small wave before jogging up the stairs two at a time.

It only took another moment or two before Sam came down, looking as stunning as always. Her dress hugged her curves in all the right places - which was every place - and complimented her eyes beautifully. Paired with a simple bracelet and necklace, and you were one lucky person.

“You look gorgeous,” you said softly, pulling her into a quick kiss but being careful not to smear her makeup. “These are for you.”

Her smile was small, a smile that almost gave you more butterflies than her bigger one. This one was almost reserved for you exclusively, and you would have done anything to see it more often.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, leaning up again to press a kiss to your cheek. You hoped it left a lipstick stain.

You grabbed her hand and led her out of the building, hailing a taxi and ushering her in before following behind. In the privacy of the cab, she let her head fall onto your shoulder as she played with your fingers. You didn’t look down, but you felt her twisting your class ring round and round, almost nervously.

“You know,” you said as the cab pulled to a stop at a light, “I met the most delightful young fellow in the lobby before you came down.”

“Oh really?” Sam asked. She had stopped fidgeting with your ring and had started running her fingers over your clothed thigh.

“They asked about my shoes,” you said with a nod, “and said you would love the flowers.”

Her fingers stopped moving.

“What did this “young fellow” look like?” She asked. Her head lifted from your shoulder; you instantly missed the sensation.

“About yea high,” you said, indicating vaguely how tall they were. “Crooked smile.”

“Scars on their cheeks?”

“That’s the one,” you said with a nod. “I liked them.”

“That’s Tara’s partner,” Sam said with a huff.

“Oh?” You asked, intrigued. Well, you certainly wouldn’t have guessed that.

“The one I don’t exactly approve of,” she continued.

“Oh,” you said with far less excitement. “Well, I thought they were lovely.”

“I’m sure you did,” she said. Her tone indicated annoyance, but you glanced down in time to catch the small smile on her face that gave her away.

You pulled her back into your side and kissed the top of her head as the cab continued its route to the bistro. Maybe it wouldn’t be too difficult to get all four of you to get along. You loved Sam, even if you weren’t quite ready to admit it yet. After all, with her hand in yours and your lips pressed to her skin? What was the worst that could happen?

[imagine-lcorp]

Having Arachnid Powers and Dating Lena Luthor Would Include...

Request

@sandwichitodemilanesa could you please write what would include dating lena, being a kind of spider woman? probably have gotten your power because of Lena's dad or brother experiments to make a superhuman but now you're trying to be a super friend and save the world . thanks  you so much <3

A/N: Hello y'all, sorry for being MIA, honestly adulthood is kinda sucking my soul, but as I've said before I'm still around. This time doing this little piece that was such fun honestly, also I love sandiwichitos de milanesa so I just couldn't ignore it. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy it! <3

Lena Luthor x Superhero Fem!R/Arachnid Powers/Word Count: 1,388

-------------------------------------------------------

Your story starting the first time Lena ever saw you, you were on the news, stopping a bank robbery.

You were using nothing but a black hoodie, grey pants, a ski mask, and a pair of worn out shoes, and had disappeared before Supergirl could arrive.

The cameras spotted you swinging your way out through the building of National City, using what at first she imagined were hook-shots.

Like the rest of the city, she started seeing you more often on the news with growing curiosity as you helped all citizens.

The news outlets trying to come up with names for you; "The Human Spider", "The Web Slinger", "The Wall Crawler", "Arachnid Woman".

Your first close encounter with Lena was during a supervillian attack on L-Corp. The top floors were crumbling while Supergirl was fighting and you appeared, saving all the people from the falling debris, including her.

You carried her in your arms as you used your webs to pull you down to the ground, keeping her safe but leaving before she could say anything.

She and the whole DEO searching for you after that, wanting to know who you were and where you came from.

Lena investigating you but coming to dead ends, trying to understand you and your powers from what she sees in the news and DEO reports.

Losing hope after many months only for you to swing to her office balcony one night as she looked down the city.

"I believe you and your friends have been looking for me."

"Mostly me, but yes."

"What for?"

"I wanted to thank you, for saving my life."

Distrusting Lena initially due to personal reasons and avoiding further contact but slowly getting used to her as you came to her aid several more times.

"We should stop meeting in life threatening situations, Miss Luthor."

"We certainly should, and I still don't know your name."

"I guess you can call me (Y/N), for now."

Warming up to her and even visiting her a few times at her office. Always reaching her floor by crawling on the side of her building or swinging with your webs to avoid being spotted.

You always work this late, Miss Luthor?

I could ask the same.

You know what they say, crime never sleeps.

Lena noticing more and more of how your powers work, even making you a suit to help you out, leaving it on her balcony with a little note after leaving early from work one day.

Smiling at the gesture and the news making noise about your new look the next day, giving you new superhero names and such.

Going to her office more often and starting to enjoy your small conversations with her and the balcony kind of becoming your meeting place.

Finally building enough trust to tell her who you were and explain how you got your powers.

Telling her you had been very sick, almost too far gone a few years back, when her brother offered you some sort of experimental treatment for your illness. You accepted and Lex brought you to Luthorcorp.

Little did you know, her brother had been running illegal and dangerous human experiments in there.

You had woken up in a cryosleep chamber years later in a secret facility, as you had been the only survivor of his experiments and the only one who seemed to assimilate your new given powers correctly.

"I had nothing and nowhere to go but I didn't want to use my powers to take advantage of people."

Lena offering you a place to stay and helping you go back on track with your life.

Supergirl and Alex also offering you a place in the DEO but refusing as places like that bring you bad memories but offering your help back in case they need it.

Having a bit of trouble adapting your new life with the superhero gig going on but Lena helping you as best as she can with everything you need.

"What if I say I need a million dollars?"

Lena discovering your funny dorky side.

Your relationship with Lena growing over time as she helps you settle as the newest heroine of National City.

Lena helping you design your supersuit and inventing new devices for you.

"I think I need to come up with a superhero name. People are starting to call me 'The Tarantula' and 'Black Widow'."

"Mmh, maybe you would like something more classic?"

"Like what?"

"How about… 'Arachne'?"

Her choosing your new name and going along with it.

Visiting her regularly when the city seems calmer and conversing for hours in her balcony.

Developing a soft spot for her and finally inviting her to move with you through the city.

"You know I have a driver and a car, right?"

"Swinging is faster, you can avoid a lot of traffic."

Lena actually enjoying the rides with you, although only the short ones.

Lena introducing you to the Superfriends.

"So, spider powers, uh? What's that exactly? Extra eyes? Extra legs? Can you stick to any surface?"

"No extra limbs as far as I'm aware…and I suppose I can stick to anything, uh, so far?"

"Cool. And the web, does it come from-?"

"Alex, stop."

"I'm just asking. What? As if you aren't curious too."

Lena helping you train and taking the chance to analyze and help you with your own powers.

She realizing she worries about you the more you get involved in fights to protect National City, particularly when Kara isn't in town.

She being the one to patch you up at your place when you don't want to stay at the DEO.

"You should see the other guy. The other guy, in this instance, being a killer croc."

Lena visiting your place and spending more time with you outside her office and the DEO.

Putting more attention to her and her safety when a fight or battle breaks lose.

Realizing after many of those you like her more than you think and going to her balcony one night to confess your feelings.

Lena admitting the same and being happy about it as you ask her to go on a date with you.

Spending your first date with Lena watching the sunset from the highest place of the city after a rooftop picnic.

Lena making sure to leave L-Corp early to spend more time with you.

Helping each other when there are criminals on the loose and being very protective of Lena if there's any after her.

Upside down kisses.

Taking her to dates by swinging around the city and her offering her limousine from time to time as a way to spoil you.

Making it official and the Superfriends being really supportive and happy for you.

Being awkward and nerdy around each other.

Very interesting moments in bed.

Grabbing food or coffee for her any chance you can so you can visit her at her office.

Dates on her office balcony also becoming a regular thing.

Sticking upside down out of her window and knocking at it at the end of her office hours to take her home.

Enjoying swinging around the city just to keep her clinging to you.

"You better hold on tight, spider-monkey."

"Is that a Twilight reference? I shouldn't have let Kara convince us to watch those."

Lots of game nights with the Superfriends and always teaming up with Lena.

Lena being your unofficial handler and she always being on your side whatever happens on your fights and missions.

You always supporting Lena and her ideas, but knowing when to call her out when things feel out of hand.

She doing the same with you, particularly when you feel responsible for everyone.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), sometimes the hardest thing about this is you can't always save everybody."

Hugs so tight and long they feel like home.

Leaving Lena huge messages around different spaces of the city written with your web. Mostly hearts with her initial in the middle.

Being really close and intimate on your alone moments.

Always coming to aid the Superfriends when they need you or teaming up with Alex and the DEO.

Lena spoiling you with new gadgets and even making you a new suit with nano-tech.

"Like Kara's, but way cooler."

"Oh yes, but don't let her hear you say that."

[watchmegetobsessed]

okay so hear me out: yn’s dad owes a hell lot os money to harry’s dad, not like in a maffia way, but its a serious situation. harry’s father comes up with an offer: if yn marries harry, he will let go of the debt. ofc yn’s dad refuses to sell his daughter but she wants to help her family so she ends up convincing her dad to accept it.

now, harry is known to be this grumpy, closed off loner, he has his own house with lands that he takes care of himself, he is doing his own business but he is known to be distant and doesn’t want anything to do with people. thats the reason why his dad wants him to marry someone, so that he might come out of his shell and start acting “normal”.

there is no wedding, they sign the papers separately and yn moves into harry’s house but they are just two strangers living together. harry ignores her most of the time, even tells her to stay out of his space and she can do whatever she wants as long as she doesn’t bother him.

but ofc they can’t avoid each other entirely so they have awkward encounters and run ins here and there, they even talk sometimes and slowly, i mean veeeryy slowly they get used to each other. but yn still feels incredibly lonely and homesick and one night harry finds her crying in the kitchen and he realises how awful she must be feeling so he tries to make her feel more home: he plants her favourite flowers in the garden, he repaints the window frames in the sunroom where she likes to read to her favourite color, he even attempts to cook for her… and slowly, she realises he is not the grumpy, mad guy everyone fears in town but a wonderful man who has been going out of his way to make her happy and ofc she is falling for him, just as hard as he is falling for her.

that is until he finds the emails she has exchanged with a lawyer about a possible divorce without fearing consequences towards her dad. he gets mad and disappointed and so sad, bc he felt like he found the person he could open up to but he was reminded that yn was only there to help her dad, not for him.

bc he still loves her, he gives her a way out: she can go back to her old life, they are getting a divorce and her father will remain dept free. she is confused about the 180 he just took, he is cold all of a sudden and she doesn’t know why. she convinces herself that he doesn’t love her and that she has to move on so she takes the deal and moves back home.

they start the divorce process, it takes about a month and they both suffer that time without each other, she realises he is her home now and he believes he will never love anyone again. they have to sign the final papers and so harry tries to make it happen without them meeting but she shows up at his place and says “i will sign these papers if you say you don’t love me, but if there is the slightest chance you have any feelings for me then im ripping these to pieces and coming right back where i belong” and he goes “feelings? yn i love you like i never thought i could possibly love anyone, i was just a shadow all my life until you came into my life and brought light and love and i will never be the same man again, not after seeing a glimpse of what life could be with you”

so ofc no papers get signed, their dumb asses realise they both been in love with each other so she moves back and they never let go of each other.

wow this was a long rambling lol

[floristjimin]

charles and edwin's enneagram types

ok so I’ve been seeing a lot of really good analysis on charles and edwin’s internal motivations and how they tend to react to difficult situations. I’ve also had a deep interest in the enneagram for several years, and I just started reading a book about it, and my brain immediately connected it to DBD. so here are my thoughts on what charles and edwin’s enneagram types might be, how this influences many different aspects of their personalities, how their types complement each other really well, and how they’ve supported each other to be the best versions of their true selves.

What is the Enneagram?

More than just a personality type, the nine types of the Enneagram describe the “basic archetypes of humanity’s tragic flaws, primary fears, and unconscious needs.” Most Enneagram authors agree that we are born with a dominant type, and that this type “determines the ways we learn to adapt to our early childhood environment.”

The types are not static — there are different “levels of development” that describe how each type behaves when they are psychologically healthy or unhealthy. There is also something called the direction of integration/disintegration — each type behaves like another type when they are under stress or in growth (e.g. type Nines behave like Sixes when they are stressed, and Threes when they are in growth). So two people with the same type may not behave the same way as each other, and a person throughout their own life may grow and change, but they will still align with that dominant type.

All this to say, the Enneagram is a really useful tool for self-understanding and for having empathy for yourself and others, because it gives a lot of insight into a person’s core fears and underlying motivations.

charles - type nine

A big part of Charles’s character arc in season one was the repression and denial of his own anger. This was the biggest clue for me that he might be a type Nine.

There are so many examples of this, especially in episode 4:

the scene with Charles and Crystal on the lighthouse where they talk about the events of the devlin house (Crystal: Charles, could we just for one second talk about what happened? Charles: Crystal, I don’t have anything else to say. yes, that guy was horrible. yes, my dad was horrible. yes, I got angry. now I’m fine. Crystal: you don’t have to keep things bottled up)

the scene (1) when Charles is upset that Edwin hid the fact that he saw the cat king again, Edwin directly asks “why are you getting so angry?” and Charles immediately falls quiet

the scene where Charles attacks night nurse — he can no longer hold back his anger, and his friends are shocked (2). It is unusual for him to express his anger like this.

Ok, so why do Nines tend to be out of touch with their anger? Type Nines are “the peacemaker”, described as easygoing, reassuring, and agreeable. The basic fear of the type Nine is of loss and separation (3), and their basic desire is to have inner stability, peace of mind. “They want everything to go smoothly and be without conflict, but they can also tend to be complacent, simplifying problems and minimizing anything upsetting.” Nines want to avoid conflict; they have seen from past experiences that anger can be a huge source of conflict, so they learn to repress their anger.

This could also be part of the reason why Charles decides to stay (4) with Edwin when they first meet. Going with Death would mean having to fully accept the fact that he is dead, and that’s upsetting to him. Nines are also known as “chameleons” and tend to mirror/blend with those they are around (a way of avoiding conflict) — “being a separate self, an individual who must assert themselves against others, is terrifying to Nines. They would rather melt into someone else or quietly follow their idyllic daydreams.” So it makes sense that staying with Edwin feels like the safest option to Charles.

Some other scenes that make more sense through the lens of Charles being a type Nine:

Any time Edwin tries to initiate a serious conversation, Charles’s immediate reaction is to downplay things, and give a lighthearted response in an attempt to minimize tension (ep 6 (5), ep 7 (6)). There’s also that flicker of emotion on his face before he promptly represses it and tries to present a more reassuring reaction (ep 6 (7))

“Every (8) day, I’m fuckin’ smiling. ‘Cause who else is gonna be the one holding it together and keeping spirits up? … What good am I even doing? I couldn’t stop Devlin from murdering his family over and over, I can’t stop Crystal from hurting, I can’t stop whatever it is that’s going on with you, I can’t stop anything! I sure as hell couldn’t stop my dad from beating the shit out of me. No matter how good I was.” — This directly points to his desire to create harmony in his environment (and taking on way too much personal responsibility (9) for it)

The scene in ep 5 where Charles admits he is afraid (10) that he’s like his dad, and Edwin’s response (11) — this is a really important moment where Charles finally allows himself to acknowledge his feelings, and Edwin learns to respond with patience and mirrors the reassurance that Charles himself so freely gives.

edwin - type one

One of the things we learn about Edwin in the very first episode of season one is that he deeply cares about solving cases and helping others.

“Our (12) deaths didn’t matter. No one ever solved them. Now you are sharp and fun, but this is not a game. We are solving cases that would never be solved. Police don’t know what to do with a fucking witch! We didn’t matter. He and I. So these cases matter. They have to matter!”

Type One is “The Reformer”; they are described as principled, purposeful, and self-controlled. The basic fear of the type One is that they are corrupt, evil, and defective (which makes it even more devastating that he spent 70 years in hell), and their basic desire is to be good, have integrity, and be balanced.

This description above reminds me a LOT of the conversation he has with the cat king in episode 4:

Cat King: Why do these cases of complete strangers matter to you so much? Edwin: Not that you would understand, but I help ghosts whose cases would go unsolved. I right wrongs. [after Cat King forces him to tell the “truth��] Edwin: I’m also doing as much good as I can, so that eventually if I have to go back to hell, I can make my case for leniency … I’m ashamed. It’s selfish.”

A lot of Edwin’s repression definitely has to do with the time period he’s from, but I think it also points to that type One desire to be “good”.

Does this not perfectly describe Edwin’s entire journey (13) of self-discovery in season one? See also, his remarks about emotions (14) and human connection (15).

Lastly, I’ll link to this post (16), as well as the fact that it took me a lot of thinking to figure out that Edwin was a One — he does not fit the usual stereotype of a One. He’s not overly perfectionistic or highly critical, he’s not afraid of making mistakes. Instead, we see a One at a healthy level — principled, a person of integrity, who is able to see that imperfections are part of perfection, who is able to work on undoing those patterns of repression. Additionally, type Ones tend to look like Sevens when they are in a direction of growth — Sevens are described as spontaneous and playful, constantly seeking new and exciting experiences. We definitely start to see this side of Edwin, and I think part of why he is able to grow in this direction is because his friendship with Charles has given him an environment where he feels safe and comfortable.

charles & edwin - the relationship between Ones and Nines

Even more interesting, there is a section on the Enneagram site that discusses relationship dynamics between different Enneagram types. This part highlights how the One and the Nine have different ways of reacting to stress and how they express (or don't express) anger:

For Edwin, this perfectly captures his prickliness and snippiness in the first few episodes towards Crystal.

And for Charles, this lines up with his emotions (17)/reactions starting from episode 3 in the devlin house and how he tries to ignore his emotions and repress his anger

Lastly, on a more positive note, this part really describes their partnership and synergy perfectly:

I also think this ties in to Charles’s direction of growth — as a type Nine, Charles would look like a type Three in his direction of growth. Threes are described as adaptable, driven, and energetic (as well as attractive and charming). I think he exhibits all of these traits -- being friends with Edwin for the past 30 years has definitely supported Charles in this direction of growth.

Overall, I think all of this really speaks to how realistic and complex these characters are. If you read this whole thing, THANK YOU. I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, if you agree with these types, if you have any more examples you can think of in the show, if you think they fit better with a different type, etc.!! And if you’re interested in learning more about the Enneagram I’ll leave some sources below.

The Enneagram Institute website

The Sacred Enneagram by Christopher L. Heuertz

Sleeping at Last podcast feat. Chris Heuertz, about type One and Nine

One by Sleeping at Last

Nine by Sleeping at Last

references: 1 - @that-ineffable-devil 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15 - @mellxncollie 3, 7 - @homoquartz 4, 13 - @nikossasaki 9 - @asidian 16 - @abeautifulblog 17 - @melefim

[lolita-lollipop]

broken glass

UVOGIN X READER

warnings: yandere(stalking implied), reader is not okay, bad upbringing, kidnapping.

Kinda long but it’s okay

———————————————————————

Ever since you were nothing but a child, the world had chosen to bring you misfortune. A dead mother, a father who is would love you if alcohol didn’t exist, a lack of friends, or family, or anybody who cared.

Your life was an endless cycle of misery and misfortune. You were cursed with the worst luck possible.

As a girl you were bullied, living in a small town the knowledge that your mother was killed brutally spread fast, and the kids at school would take anything to fuck somebody up. It only got worse when your dad did nothing to stop it. So you grew up an outsider, somebody completely alienated from the rest of the people your age.

The worst part about it, was that there was nothing you could do to fix it. You were strong enough to fight them back and win, nor were you smart enough to get them caught by the schools or their parents. So you had to live with it.

Your unlucky tendencies carried with you all the way into adulthood. You had somehow managed to get into a good college, miles and miles away from your small hometown, where your past couldn’t follow you. But by that time you had no clue how to socialize like a normal person, so you only made a few friends in your first year. Even so, your life was going better than it ever had, you had more friends than you’d ever accomplished to make in your childhood, your roommate cared for you, being much older and much wiser. And you were happy.

Then, you got a call. From the exact person you had been avoiding since you stepped foot out of that awful town. That awful place.

“Y/n… I’m sick” your father sounded older, his voice was scratchy and weak now. Probably from the endless amount of cigarettes he smoked, you knew that your dad would never call you unless he actually needed you. He hadn’t even tried to contact you since you left, barely caring enough to send you a happy birthday text. You were a last resort to him, that much you knew for certain.

“And.”

“I need you to come back. To come home. My legs, my legs don’t work anymore. Please baby…I miss you.” You could hear the lies dripping from every word he spoke, that’s the sweet tone you had only ever heard from your father when he wanted something. Usually it was something as minuscule as money or whiskey or weed. Like usual, he knew you didn’t know how to say no to him when he dangled that ghost of affection in your face. And like usual, you chased after it like an idiot.

That’s what you were, an idiot. You knew ut, your father knew it. Who would go back to a life of misery, back to a town filled with only sad memories, of pain. Who would be stupid enough to fall for the manipulation of an old man who barely raised you? You would.

So, you packed your stuff up from your dorm, opting for the online classes your college offered. And prepared for the long drive home in an old car you bought for half the already low price.

And here you were. Standing in your local grocery store , in your pajamas, trying to decide if you had enough money for snacks for the drive home. Bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, a heavy weight pulling down on your shoulders as you accepted your fate, doomed to a small town full of bullies and lying snakes.

The melancholy of your situation weighed down on you, showing on your face, the frown lines deepening as you sucked yourself deeper into a depressive black hole. Blankly staring at the small bags of corn chips and popcorn, you let your shoulders sag. Exhaustion reading on your posture. You didn’t know how long you were standing there, nor did you care. Not until a string band tapped your shoulder a few times, sending your head to snap up, and your eyes to snap out of it.

“You alright there doll? Ya look a little bit… dead” a gruff voice spoke, it was scratchy and rough. Not in the way your fathers was (withered with age and years of vices), but natural. Husky. Pulling yourself up from your spacing out, you straightened your back, screaming your neck up to see him. The man was fucking giant, taller than anybody you had ever seen before, with tattoos speckling his neck and arms. You stood there for a few moments, staring in awe at the man whom you hadn’t realized was actually pretty terrifying in person. Maybe you were just tired, or stressed, or scared, but the way he stared made you want sink into your own skin and disappear. It was unsettling, how his stare weighed down on your shoulders and pulled you back away from him.

“Uhh- Yeah man. I’m good.” You spoke in your quiet voice, pulling your shoulder as far away from his hand as you could. You sent him a tight lipped smile, and returns to your decision between what bagged snack you would pick. You tried to ignore him, who stayed put in his spot next to you despite your obvious dismissal to his advance on a conversation.

You spotted him in your peripheral vision, staring at you. That heavy feeling never left you, and the longer the giant man stayed there, the heavier and heavier it weighed down.

“The popcorn is gross here. It comes stale even in a sealed bag. I wouldn’t get it if ya don’t wanna feel sick tommorow” he spoke again, leaning down to be at your eye level. You glanced back at him, remaining indifferent despite your ever-quickening heartbeat. His eyes were still focused on yours, while your pen glanced over his physical appearance.

It wasn’t just his height that made yoh hneasy, he was wide in a muscular way, with a beard that put the men of your hometown to shame. There were slight twinges of Greg throughout his long hair, and while he was well kept and smelled nice, he had messy, almost unhinged undertone. And yoh had managed to gather all of that without even talking to him much. You gave another right smile, before throwing the chips back and placing the popcorn in your basket (doing it almost to spite the man) among the advil and energy drinks. You almost missed the way his eyes scanned over your cart. Almost.

“Thanks” with that, you were off, trudging your way to the front of the store with your basket in tow, you heard a pair of heavy footsteps behind you, and the cashier glanced up for a couple seconds. A recognizable look of fear flashed on her face for no longer than a moment, before the bells of the front doors let out a cheery jingle. And the man was gone.

The repetitive beep of the checkout machine rang through the storefront, as the woman made no move to strike up a conversation with you, her eyebags sinking almost worse than your own. You had almost worked here at some point, when you first arrived to the big city. You were glad you didn’t now, as you didn’t want to be subjected to whatever this pooor woman clearly had been through.

She just kept beeping through your groceries, bagging them up, and setting them off to the side for you to grab. When she was finally finished she placed the pricing machine down and stared at yoj like she was waiting for something, you pulled your card out of your pocket and gave it to her, but she immediately handed it right back. You sighed, partially in confusion and partially of exhaustion. Of all times, now was not the moments for somebody to mess with you, at two AM at a stupid grocery store. You stared right back as she held the card out to you, waiting for you to grab it.

“He paid for your shit. Just take it”

Huh

Strange.

———

That night you went home with a weird feeling in your stomach, you know when something feels like it’s gonna go wrong? Yeah. That. You chose to blame it on your father, knowing that you would not be met with a joyful arrival home.

The feeling stuck with you all along the drive to your little stupid house in the middle of nowhere, the popcorn you had bought did actually end up being gross, but it didn’t change the satisfaction you got from denying that man of you following his advice. Your radio was cutting in and out, your car was on the verge of breaking down, and your ac didn’t work anymore, leaving you sweaty and sticky in your car.

You weren’t wrong in assuming that it wouldn’t be a happy “welcome home”, it would’ve been nice yeah, but it wasn’t a surprise when you pulled up to your house and there was no short outside. The dead grass of your front yard, and withering plants of what once was your guarden spoke for itself how your father had been taking care of the property. Leafy vines had started to overtake the front wall of your home, the place looked abandoned. Sad.

After a few deep breaths of preparation for whatever fight that was about to come, you hopped out of your truck and began the short truck to your front door. The small glass frame above it was smashed with many small cracks across the surface.

It was sad really. The house once looked somewhat presentable, none of the houses in the area looked to be well kept or highly perfected in the visual category, they never looked that way, but at least you could tell it was a home for someone whether it be the old lady next door with kids who don't care about her and more debt she could handle, or the couple across the street you used to hear screaming at each other through the night. Somebody really lived in those homes, your house looked like an empty shell.

The pavement leading up to the front door was cracked and probably permanently stained with dirt or paint or blood or alcohol, the little garden you used to try to keep alive while you were little was shriveled and blackened by the sun, no lights were on in the house, and it was dead silent. You hated this place, you hated that you were back here, you hated that you still cared for this empty pit of shame and misery of a home. Cared for a man that had hurt you so very many times.

Approaching the door, you didn't even care to knock or ring the bell, the electricity in your house had long been cut off so it wouldnt matter, and if your father was expecting you he wouldnt mind if you just walked in. It was your house, anyway. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you let a deep breath calm down your running heart and pushed it open.

…

Unsurprisingly, the house was dead silent, a creak resonating through the open space as the noise bounced wall to wall. You could hear your heartbeat as you walked over the rest of the broken glass from the window, leaving quiet crunches under your feet. Just breathing the air in your home sent awful memories of childhood to race across your brain, it smelled like your dad, like alcohol and cigarettes and unhappiness and anger. It even looked miserable in here, almost just as bad, if not worse, than outside.

Flicking on your phone flashlight, little flecks of broken glass reflected the light, they were scattered across the entire house, maybe from the broken front window, maybe from other windows in the house. Your dad was never one for cleaning, knowing him he must've gotten upset and broken a couple. With no one else to clean it, he probably left it there. That's how he is, how he's always been. Why did you love him? How stupid were you?

“Dad?” you called, but it echoed through the home. You now realize just how empty it truly was, no more furniture was scattered here or there or anywhere, it was just empty and sad. Fitting. Really fucking fitting.

“Dad? You called me?” You called once more, still only getting the creaks of the old house in return. You took another deep breath, the smell was starting to get to you, this was supposed to be easier for you now, you were an independent woman now, and the smell of your childhood home shouldn't have you spiraling like it did. You shouldn't have come here.

“I drove all the way out here for you. If you weren't gonna show you could've just called me. Go to hell, asshole.” still awaiting an answer. You knew he wasn't here, and you certainly knew it was stupid to talk to an empty house, but you wasted gas and good money for this. Wasted money on a man who didn't even care enough to show his face. Wasted money to go back to a life you've been clawing to escape from.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the tears start to roll down your cheeks.

It hurt to be here, genuinely, the floors felt like they were trying to soak you up and suffocate you, the walls felt like they were closing in, and the ceilings felt like they were slowly crushing you. What were you supposed to do? You spent so long running away from this place, how could you let yourself be dragged back here, especially for no reason?

Your eyes fell to your feet, sucking in air as best as you could, you tried your hardest to keep your soft cries from turning into sobs. There wasn't anybody to hide your tears from, but it felt wrong, you shouldn't let yourself be this upset. You know.

Your cries halted when you spotted a dark patch of carpet in between the space where your feet were planted, not tears or water or even alcohol, it was bright red. Blood, and not the kind that's gone brown because it's been sitting for so long. This was new, recent blood. The dead silence of the house now had you frozen in spot. Could somebody have broken in? Your eyes followed a now obvious trail of spots leading toward your mom's old bedroom.

They slept in different rooms before she died, whether it was because they hated or other or were scared of each other (or both) he never went in there. Never.

You should leave. Shouldn't you? You should leave, he's not your problem anymore, he abandoned you when you were little, and kicked you to the curb. He deserved whatever was coming to him, he had it coming. You should leave, you should leave, you should leave, you should leave.

…

But you can't.

Even though you were actively willing to run out the front door, you just couldn't find it in you to leave. Pathetic. You knew, but this is how it was, this is how it was always meant to be. He calls and you answer, no matter how fucked up it was.

So, instead of making a haste bolt for the door or any of the broken windows, you slowly crept closer and closer to the bedroom where you said goodbye to your mother, your breath was shallow and unmanageable, almost worse than your uncontrollable heartbeat, whatever was behind the door was surely not pretty.

It took you a few moments to work up the courage to even touch the doorknob, hand quivering along the way there. You waited, the last time you were in this room was over 10 years ago, you couldn't even remember what it looked like, what your mother looked like. You were being stupid weren't you, it was just a room, probably empty by now, furniture either stolen or sold like the rest of the house. inhaling, you twisted, and pushed the door open.

To reveal… absolutely nothing. Just an empty room with the same exact smell as the rest of the house, a puddle of blood sat in the middle of the room, but nobody, no person or animal or thing that could bleed. Just an empty, meaningless room. Just like the rest of the house. You let out a sigh of relief at the uneventfulness of the failed search, that wasn't so bad, you were fine.

Were you? A loud creak echoed through the short hallway behind you, and you made a motion to turn around.

Hands were on you before you could even breathe again. One covering your mouth, and one firmly planted on your shoulder. Huge hands, bigger than your fathers for sure, calloused and strong, scarily strong. Whoever this was smelled familiar, vaguely familiar, not like someone you knew closely. The shock from him grabbing you forced your phone to fall out of your grip. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god

You should have gone home, you should've cursed out your father and left. You shouldn't have been curious or caring or kind… you lived in a bad neighborhood, people died left and right, and the police couldn't give less of a shit what happens here. You were going to die, you were going to die in the same house you grew up in, the same house you cried and hurt and screamed in. What a sad ending, to think you were finally starting to get your life on somewhat of a track, only to die at the hands of a stranger. Fuc-

“Stop thinking so hard, I’m not gonna hurt you” a gruff voice spoke behind you, deep and dark and powerful. You started crying the second he spoke, your heart beating faster than your body should be able to take. Whoever this was, was not somebody you would ever want to mess with, they sounded more authoritative than you could ever even wish to be. You couldn't stop your heart from clenching out of fear, couldn't stop the tears from dripping down your face, couldn't breathe right.

“You don't need to cry… I said I wasn't gonna hurt you” One of his fingers strayed from your mouth to wipe tears away, but it did nothing to stop fear from overtaking your senses or forcing out sobs and cries from your lips. You were positive that your entire body was quivering and shaking, you couldn't feel it, too scared to think about anything other than death, but you knew it was naturally happening. You heard him let out a sigh from behind you (even his breathing was harsh and rough) before his arm hooked under your knees and pulled you flush against him.

“I’ve never been this close to you before, I’ve been waiting for this one for a while. We met when we were kids ya know, you looked so… empty, miserable, tired, fucking empty. You still do, you're just better at hiding it. I've been watching, it since then. You're just too nice for your good.” your cries increased as he spoke, you didn't struggle or scratch or scream, just cried. He was too strong for it to matter if you did.

He chuckled as you kept crying, by now he had begun to walk to the front door.

“Don't make a scene, if anybody notices, they're dead.” The words he spoke were so nonchalant, but still so terrifying that it had you struggling to breathe. He broke the front door open with his foot and pushed his way through the doorway, he hit his head on the top as he went through, that must be why the glass was broken.

You were frozen in his arms as he continued to carry you, the sun now lit up your surroundings, showing exactly who your captor was, now it made sense why you mildly recognized him. He was the man from the grocery store, you should've known by the way he spoke, you should've recognized that voice anywhere. HE caught your gaze as you stared at him, giving you a toothy smile. His canines were scarily sharp, and now that you can get a closer look this man was even more terrifying. His bear, his eyes, his teeth, everything about him screamed danger. You stiffened as you stared at him, why why why why why why why You shouldn't have fucking come here.

“Quit looking so scared of me. God you're stiff as a board, I forgot how jumpy you were. It's been a while since I’ve seen you this scared, not since the incident at the coffee shop-” Who does he think he is? Talking just like he knows you like he's had any kind of conversation with you before that wasn't about popcorn at a stupid stupid grocery store. What were you supposed to do? You fully believed that he was the type of man to kill anybody who tried to stop him, even then nobody would (people in this neighborhood learned to keep their mouths shut), and he was much much stronger than you. You just… you just had to give up. There was no winning, not against him, not here.

The thought alone made you want to curl up and die.

Pathetic.

“Don't worry though, You're scared and I get it. But you'll get used to me. I’ll treat you real good, buy you things you’ve never had before. “ Your breath hitched and you quivered as he continued to blabber on and on about what kind of house he had, he tucked you into the passenger seat of some kind of black fancy car, got into the driver's seat, and proceeded to drive away—no more explanation than that. You couldn't do anything more than stare at him with those wide eyes of yours, he was watching you too intensely for you to try and throw yourself out of the car, and even then you doubted you would get very far before he caught you.

So you awkwardly sat in the leather seats of the fancy-ass car, tears still freely flowing as you sat, waiting for this man to take you to some alleyway and murder you. You picked at your fingernails, eyes darting around the interior of the car, it was clean and neat and looked to be stupidly expensive, everything that man wasn't. Who is that man anyway?

Almost as if reading your mind, the man brought a hand up to wipe the tears from your face, only to end up cupping your cheek and staring at you for a while as he drove.

“The name’s Uvogin, and I’m madly in love with you”

———————————————————————

Hey pookie s I’m back, this has been in my wanna write list for a LONG time. But it’s now so it’s fine. I’m kinda weak in the knees for the entire phantom troupe so tell me what you think.

Sorry for the long delay:) but I’m back now

Have a great day today, bye!

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

So I’m having the eye opening, I keep seeing Eddie being the trans man out of Steddie. (Who has a kid) And honestly, love that but hear me out about the possibilities.

What if Steve was in like major stealth mode. Passed so well no one thinks about it. Things are great until he goes partying at a place where he knows people don’t have a problem with him being trans. Now normally he tops with a toy but he gets drunk and he doesn’t mind bottoming. It’s not his preference because his dysphoria gets the best of him some times but he ends up having a one night stand and gets pregnant. Now no one knows he’s trans, and he’s not sure how to bring it up. He’s avoiding it and now he’s having to hide more and more. Wearing baggier clothes, ditching everyone, etc. he has this plan of just running away because he would rather run off and struggle then deal with his family treating him differently.

Though thing is everyone’s caught on and holding a intervention. Because something is up and they think it might be a code red for the upside down. They are not having another max situation. Because it seems like Steve is closing himself off. They all snuck in the house, because they’ve tried everything and Steve never lets them in unless it’s for something important. So none of them are expecting to see a half awake, half asleep steve coming down stairs with a tank top on. Stretching around his belly. That’s pretty big. Hand on it, hair pulled in a bun as he hasn’t left the house in a long time and is to lazy to cut it. He’s waddling as he moves to the calendar. Whining when he realizes he has a doctors appointment. “I suppose it’s time to figure out your gender so I can stop calling you a gremlin.” He smiles looking down at his belly. It doesn’t hit the younger kids, but it’s slapping all of the adults who are now quickly pulling the kids back who are getting kicked out silently. Steve hears the door closing and is nearly pissing himself when he sees all of the older teens and adults staring at him with wide eyes. He’s booking it out of the room slamming his door shut behind him. Coming back down with a baggier sweater pointing at the door and screaming for everyone to get the fuck out. Nearly in tears. Actually no his hormones are all wacky that he’s crying angrily

All of them refuse to. Robin moving and hugging him. “Oh my god, I thought you were being vecnaed this is so much better.” She’s careful of his stomach.

Anywho time skip to steve having the baby and everyone falls in love. Everyone never calls steve mom again, all jokingly call him dad. Though on occasion they’ll joke about him being their mom, but not in a way that makes Steve uncomfortable. The baby being baby sat by Joyce and Hopper excitedly. Hopper who isn’t fond of the child but is always found sleeping in his rocker with the brat curled up on his chest. Now Murray and the kids are the only ones not allowed to be near the baby unsupervised. Murray because Steve doesn’t trust him. He’s the crazy uncle that’s to crazy while Eddie is crazy but not crazy enough to put a baby in danger.

Just a gay Eddie who doesn’t change his sexuality all because Steve is trans. Steve is a guy through and through which still makes Eddie gay. He’s happy either way. There’s more in life then just sex and he doesn’t mind getting railed by the other. Though he’s the one that gets the closest to the baby. She/he love him the most. Playing with his curls, giggiling when ever he messes around with her. He Carrie’s the child by the diaper like a purse sometimes. Just him helping with the child, though Wayne meets the baby when Steve comes over to beg Eddie to help him get them to sleep. Eddies not home but Wayne is and puts the kid asleep fast. Humming as they both watch sports tv and both pats out. (There’s a poloroid that Eddie took of them sleeping like that)

Just yeah.. this is my dream now

[dandylovesturtles]

Leo & Donnie, trick (Please no character death, thank you!)

This will make more sense if you read the previous trick or treat (the Leo and Draxum trick)

Unfortunately this has become. a whole Thing. I didn't plan for it, it just happened. I'm currently calling it the Sidelined AU

CWs: Internalized ableism, light passive suicidal ideation

---

Here's what being stuck in a demonic suit of armor for two days gets you:

Brittle bones.

No mystic powers.

Hovering brothers.

A catatonically depressed dad.

A catastrophic decrease in muscle mass.

Chronic fatigue.

A concerning amount of brain fog.

A bedroom on the ground floor (under construction).

Sensitivity to light and smell.

And a wheelchair. Apparently.

Donnie brought it in ten minutes ago, and he's spent that long infodumping about all the features he's built into it. Leo hasn't really kept up, because of the whole brain fog situation, and because he doesn't normally listen to infodumps of this length, anyway.

Instead he's been focused on keeping his lunch down. Something about the wheelchair twists his gut in a sharp way. It just feels so... final. Like if he sits down in that, he's officially given up.

Donnie is still rattling on. He's been smiling the whole time. Leo doesn't know what about his situation invites smiling.

(Some part of his brain, the less bitter and angry part, notes that it's the same smile Donnie has whenever he shows off new tech. Leo ignores that part of his brain.)

"Any questions?" Donnie asks him suddenly, and Leo blinks his way out of his own thoughts. Donnie is looking at him expectantly. Still smiling, his hands gesturing at his creation. The wheelchair. Leo's gut twists again and he swallows forcefully. Reaches over and sucks down the last of the water from his water bottle, and even that simple motion takes Herculean effort.

He's already forgotten what the question was, so he says, "No," because he feels that sums up all his feelings about the situation.

"Excellent," says Donnie, because he can't read a room to save his life. "Then do you want to take it for a test run?"

Leo stares at him so he doesn't have to look at the chair.

"No," he says again.

Finally, Donnie's smile falls. It morphs into something concerned, and Leo isn't sure he likes that any better.

"You said you were feeling alright," he says.

Sure, he did say that, because all he ever says when they ask how he's feeling is "alright." Well, that's not true. Sometimes it's "okay." Or "fine." Or, "Jeez, Raph, stop worrying about me before that chasm gets any bigger."

The point is, he did say he was feeling alright, but alright isn't good enough for... whatever this is.

He struggles over his words for a bit before finally getting out, "I don't need a wheelchair," which is the main point, as far a he's concerned.

Now Donnie's expression turns more frustrated. "Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

He sighs. "Leo, we've been over this. Your legs aren't strong enough to carry your weight, and you can't risk a fall in your condition. Do you want to be healing from a broken pelvis on top of everything else?"

He doesn't. But he doesn't say that, just stares stubbornly at Donnie to avoid looking at the chair.

"The wheelchair is only for now," says Donnie. "Once you've recovered enough, a walker, then a cane, or crutches. We've been over this-"

"I don't need a cane," says Leo, cutting him off. "Canes are for old people."

"They are not," Donnie argues. "They're for whoever needs them. Which includes you."

"I don't need one."

Donnie grumbles something under his breath that Leo can't hear, because damaged hearing is another one of the things being trapped in a demonic suit of armor for two days gets you. "Alright. Is there something wrong with my engineering?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is there something unsatisfactory about the chair that I can fix so you would be more willing to use it." He gestures at it. "It's okay if my design isn't to your liking. I have others."

Leo shakes his head. "This isn't about your engineering." This isn't about you.

"Well maybe if we make it about my engineering then you'll stop being so stubborn!" Donnie snaps, and Leo feels his hackles rising.

"Oh, screw you, Donnie."

"Screw me?" Donnie spits back. "Screw me for trying to help and not just watch while my brother lets himself waste away! Yeah, screw me."

"You don't have to watch anything," Leo snaps back. "The door's right there."

"What's your end game here?" Donnie demands, taking an angry step forward. "You complain about Raph carrying you everywhere, but you aren't doing anything to fix your situation. You won't exercise, you won't use the wheelchair - you're giving up!"

"I'm not giving up!" Leo lies.

"Yes you are and I'm sick of watching it!"

"Then leave!"

Donnie opens his mouth like he wants to argue further, but then he throws his hands up and turns on his heel. "I'm done," he says, then stalks out. He tries to slam the curtain behind him as he leaves, but because it's a curtain it just ends up swinging back and forth.

Which means Leo can clearly see as Raph and Mikey duck out of sight.

"Donnie, maybe you shouldn't have-" Raph begins, but gets cut off.

"I'm not treating him with kid gloves. If he wants to rot in bed then let him."

"He's having a rough time, so-"

"You can keep coddling him. But I'm done."

Leo hears retreating footsteps, then a heavy sigh. Raph is still right outside his room.

It takes him a moment, but he pokes his head in eventually.

"Heeey buddy," he says, adopting his baby voice, and Leo wants to scream but he doesn't have the energy. "Need anything?"

"No. I'm fine," he says instead.

"You sure? Because Raphie can-"

"I'm fine," he says again, tired, and lays down so he can stare at the ceiling. "I'm just gonna sleep."

"...Okay. Night Leo."

He's gone and doesn't come back. Mikey doesn't come, either.

Leo regrets his decision a few minutes later, because all that yelling made his throat dry and painful, but his water bottle is empty, and he doesn't have the energy to get to the kitchen, and if he uses the chair...

He groans, pulling his blanket over his head. Already, the brain fog is turning his thoughts to white noise, and the fatigue is pulling him down. Thirsty or not, sleep will come.

Another thing being trapped in demonic suit of armor for two days gets you: a cure for insomnia.

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: Eren dwells on the possible consequences of not saying three little words back. However, a week at the Jaeger house only makes your bond grow stronger and for your trust in each other to manifest in more ways than one.

— Content warnings: nsfw, dry humping, sloppy make out, vaginal sex, handjob, oral sex (f receiving), multiple positions, dirty talk.

— Notes: Chapter 9 is finally here! <3 This is my second favorite chapter in the entire series. It’s a long one, so buckle up because lots of things happen. Reblogs and likes are highly appreciated. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

home is in your arms

The passing scenery from inside of the rental car is bursting with color. Toasty yellows, cheerful blues, fresh greens, and vibrant reds span your vision as you drive across the town. It's a stark contrast to the icy whites and blues you left behind just a few hours ago when you took a flight to Paradis Island. 

Eren's free hand rests on your thigh while the other steers the wheel. His sunglasses are low on the bridge of his nose and the warm wind comes in through the lowered windows and teases his hair. 

You bite down on the ice cream sandwich in your hands before humming for Eren's attention and offering him a bite, too. 

He chomps down on the snack, laughing when you pout at the significant reduction of the treat he brought you at the convenience store next to the car rental shop. He insisted he didn't want anything other than the bottle of cold water snug in the cupholder, so you only offered him a bite of your ice cream to be nice, but didn't expect him to be so greedy.

You click your tongue in annoyance before playfully slapping his hand from your thigh. 

It only fuels his amusement. At the next red light, he leans over the console, using his reprimanded hand to pull you closer by the back of your neck into an enthusiastic kiss.

“I'll get you another one later,” he promises before falling back into his seat, his warm hand back in its original spot.

He strokes soothing stripes with his thumb, switching to tapping beats with his fingertips when he happens to like a song on the radio. 

“I'm really happy you came,” he grins.

You glance at him with a smile.

“I can tell,” you tease.

On the days leading up to your year-end holiday trip to the Jaeger family's hometown, Eren has barely done anything to keep his excitement under wraps. 

His face would light up each time he talked about showing you around the streets he grew up in before his late father moved them to the city when he was just six years old. After Eren grew up and could properly fend for himself — his parents moved back to Paradis Island to live out a more relaxed life until Eren's dad, Grisha, passed at the hands of an illness a couple of years back. It's the only time Eren's been back that hasn't been for the winter holidays. This year, it just made sense that you joined him.

“You think your mom will like me?” you ask, neatly folding the ice cream wrapper into a small square that you wedge beside your water bottle in the cupholder. 

“Are you kidding?” he grins. “She's thrilled I'm finally bringing you over. She's gonna love you.”

You smile as you continue to look out the window through your sunglasses, oblivious to the sudden shift in Eren's demeanor after his reassuring words.

It's been roughly a month since you told him you love him. It's been just as long since he failed to say it back — not because it'd be a lie, but because he was simply shocked and overwhelmed with emotion at the time.

He's been trying to find an opening to say it, but you haven't pronounced those three words since, and with every passing day, it's gotten more embarrassing to just say it out of the blue. For a while, his paranoia even led him to believe your confession to be no longer true since you neglected to bring it up after it happened, so the topic has been hanging in the air for a while. Not that you seem consumed by it as much as he is. You've been perfectly fine since that night, much so that he'd actually prefer if you confronted him about it so he gets a chance to preach his true feelings.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp as he pulls through the open gate of his childhood home. 

Your eyes scan the area. It's a lovely home with a manicured lawn, hydrangea patches and neatly trimmed rose bushes overflowing with pink and white. The two-story house is painted in peach with terracotta tiles lining the roof of the terrace, and colorful handmade pots on either side of the front steps. To the left is a small driveway that Eren steers the car towards, and to the right is a small ornate gate painted in white that leads to the backyard where you catch a glimpse of a pool.

A woman — whom you presume is Eren's mother — eagerly rushes out the front door at the sound of the foreign car. 

Much to your surprise, she calls out your name first, passing by her son and pulling you into her arms instead.

“You're finally here,” she gushes. Your arms awkwardly hang at your sides, taken aback by the sudden contact, but you quickly regain control over yourself as you sink into the warm welcome. She sways your body from side to side as she exclaims how happy she is to finally meet you.

Your heart flutters with an unfamiliar sensation, one you haven't experienced in years as Carla Jaeger’s motherly affection lightens your soul.

“Look at you,” she says, pulling back and cupping your face between her soft hands to soak in every detail of your face. “You're so pretty.”

“Thank you so much,” you smile. “It's so nice to meet you.”

You take the opportunity to observe the woman before you. Eren's shown you a few pictures before, but Carla's even more beautiful up close. Though still fairly young, it's easy to tell she's one of those people whose powerful genetics allow them to age gracefully. She shares the same large eyes as Eren, though hers have a caramel color to them, and they crinkle more at the corners when she smiles. Her thick eyebrows match her voluminous head of dark hair, which is fixed in a loose braid over her shoulder. 

She's wearing a long flowy dress that easily outshines your airport look made up of a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized graphic tee with a hoodie tied at your waist, but the way she looks at you makes you feel as though you may as well be stepping off the runway given the twinkle of admiration shining in her eyes.

Eren regards the endearing scene between his mother and girlfriend with a smile etched on his face. He can tell you're shy but just as happy for the warm welcome. 

He clears his throat suddenly, garnering the attention of both women. 

“I'm here, too, mom,” he sassily pronounces with his hands openly asking for the same attention.

Carla laughs and walks over to him, but not before affectionately squeezing your hands and tossing you a playful eye roll.

She wraps her son in a tight hug, forcing him to hunch over to accommodate her petite stature as he reciprocates her embrace.

“My baby boy,” she coos, much to Eren's embarrassment as he blushes profusely when he notices your teasing smile.

A yearning feeling pulls at your heartstrings at the scene of mother and child reunited.

Carla ushers you inside the house, asking you all about the flight on the way. You and Eren trail behind her to the kitchen, where she takes out a pitcher from the fridge while you sit down at the bar.

“Not too bad, right?” Eren glances at you, encouraging you to take part in the conversation.

You smile at him appreciatively before turning to Carla, watching as she carefully pours lemonade into two glasses and offers them to you.

“Smoothest airport experience ever,” you agree before taking a sip. “Even though I don't have much to compare it to.”

“Why's that, hon?” 

Your heart flutters at the affectionate name you've earned without trying.

“Oh, it was her first time on a plane,” Eren explains, tossing you a smile.

“Really?” Carla's eyebrows rise in surprise. “What'd you think?” 

“It was okay,” you reply with a shrug, trying to seem cool about it. But Eren outs you as soon as the words leave your mouth.

“I had to hold her hand during take-off,” he bluntly states, earning himself a slap on his shoulder.

“You don't have to expose me like that!”

“Hey, I wasn't complaining,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

Your face burns when he pecks your cheek, and you nervously glance at Carla, who only laughs at your exchange.

“You two are adorable,” she gushes. 

Her words fluster you even more.

Eren teasingly wiggles his eyebrows at you before chugging the rest of his drink and hopping off his stool.

“I'm gonna get our suitcases.” He turns to his mom. “Are we in my old room or did you already turn it into a yoga studio?” 

Carla shakes her head.

“It's a craft corner now,” she clarifies, holding up a finger. “You're staying in the pool house. I fixed it up this morning.”

Eren nods, humming in approval. 

“Nice. Thanks, mom.”

He ventures out of the house, leaving you and Carla alone.

“I figured you could use some privacy,” she adds once her son is out of earshot.

You laugh nervously at her mischievous smile. Her eyes crinkle in amusement before she wears a more serious expression.

“How's my son treating you? Is he good to you?” 

Carla — though very stern about making sure Eren grew up to be a good person, and proud that he did — is one who will still check in every now and then to make sure nothing has led him astray. Especially in situations that are so rare in his life, like romance is.

You smile, easing her worries instantly.

“He's incredibly kind,” you softly say. “I couldn't be happier.”

Carla relaxes into a smile. 

“That's good to hear.” 

“He's a very respectful man,” you add. “At least in my case, it’s been pretty hard to come across genuinely good guys, but ones like Eren are especially rare… He’s very caring… and patient… and understanding. You and Mr. Jaeger raised a wonderful person.”

A dust of pink surfaces Carla's cheeks at the compliment. 

She reaches across the counter to place her hand on top of yours.

“You know, I was so excited when he told me he started seeing someone. For a while I worried he just wanted to be alone,” she admits. “Not that there's anything wrong with that. I've always said it's better to be alone than to keep the wrong company, but he’s been so happy every time he calls me up since you started dating… I'm glad he has the same effect on you.”

“Well, he makes it easy.” 

You share a smile with each other, holding hands in silence.

You aren't as nervous as you thought you'd be when Eren first told you he wanted you to come to Paradis with him to meet his mom.

She's got a calming energy that easily soothes you in her presence — much like her son.

“I meant to say this earlier, but your house is lovely,” you say as you look around, eyes landing on every pop of color provided by eclectic knick-knacks and accent walls, handmade vases and colorful flowers. It's like someone took your apartment and turned the dial as far as it can go, it's unapologetically loud without being overwhelming. “It’s like a dollhouse.”

“I decorated it myself,” she grins. “Picked the palette, the furniture, everything.”

“That's amazing,” you breathe, highly impressed. “Eren told me you used to work as an interior designer.”

She nods.

“I did. I majored in art in college but my father already had an architecture firm so that's where everything fell in place for me after I graduated.” 

You politely nod along.

“I like to dabble in lots of things now. I still paint and take on private clients now and then, but I spend a lot of time on my hobbies. Knitting, sewing, baking, Italian, gardening…” 

Your eyes widen as the list goes on, especially when it's a hobby of your liking, too.

“You saw the pots outside?”

You nod.

“Made those, too,” she proudly states.

Your smile grows as does your admiration for the talented woman before you.

Eren told you some basic things before coming, but he failed to mention how remarkable his mother truly is.

“That's incredible,” you sigh. 

“What about you?” she smiles. “What do you do outside of work? Eren told me you're an office administrator?”

“Office manager, yeah, it's not a very glamorous job,” you chuckle. “But I like knitting, too. And reading, cooking… but baking is my favorite.”

She claps with glee at the last of the list.

“Oh, good! You can help me make cookies tomorrow!” 

“Yes, of course!” you reply, mirroring her enthusiasm.

She squeals with delight.

“Oh, it's so nice to finally have a baking buddy,” she gushes. “Eren only helps lick the batter off the spoon.”

You laugh.

“Eren, what?”

The man himself wanders into the kitchen with an accusing gaze.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. “Just exchanging war stories with your mom.”

In his ever-lingering childish manner, Eren pouts.

“Hey,” he complains. “She's still my mom. She'll report back to me later.”

He glances at Carla for backup, but the lively woman tears down his idea on the spot.

“I wouldn't dare. Girl talk is sacred.”

She holds up her pinky in your direction, which you gladly link with while laughing at Eren’s playful scowl.

“You two should get settled in before dinner,” she says, waving you out of the kitchen. “I'm making bolognese.” 

“Oh, would you like some help?” you offer.

But she shakes her head while waving her hands in front of her.

“No need, honey. Just go unpack and I'll call you out. You're probably tired from the flight here.”

Before you can insist any further, Eren laces your hands together and gestures to you to follow him out with a nod and his signature boyish grin.

He leads you out to the backyard through the sliding doors at the back of the dining room.

The pool water sparkles underneath the sizzling sun at the center of the vibrant green of the freshly cut grass. A few lawn chairs are scattered along the poolside under the shade of a tree.

On the other end of it all, there's a simple, one-story construction in the same peach tone and the same terracotta tiles from the main house. Eren holds the door open for you to step into a colorful lounge area equipped with a bar and kitchenette, with two doors along the left wall that lead to other rooms.

“It's a mini-dollhouse,” you murmur in amazement as your eyes go from the royal blue curtains to the yellow velvet sofa to the oddly-shaped acrylic coffee table before it, to the green and blue mismatched tiles that take up the northern wall of the kitchenette. 

Eren amusedly watches you wander over to the doors on the left side. 

“There's a pink bathtub!” You turn to him in surprise. 

He laughs as he rejoins your hands and guides you to the bedroom.

“I've never seen a pink bathtub,” you murmur, still amazed by what you saw in the bathroom.

“Come here,” Eren grins, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling you onto his lap. 

He looks up at you, eyes shimmering as he brushes your hair out of your face.

“Are you happy?” 

You smile as you lock your hands behind his neck.

“Very.”

“Yeah?”

You reply with an eager nod as you close the gap between you to kiss the corner of his lips. He doesn't allow you to pull away, his hand keeping you in place as he returns the kiss. 

He falls back onto the bed, pulling you down with him by the waist.

You rest on your sides, regarding each other in comfortable silence.

“Do you think we can find a place with a pink bathtub?” you wonder out loud after a few minutes.

Eren laughs.

“Are you still thinking about that?” 

“I can't help it! This place is amazing,” you gush. 

“Just wait til the New Year's Eve party,” he says. “You're gonna love it.”

“Tell me about it,” you ask him, snuggling into his chest.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, as he squeezes your frame. “There’s music and champagne. My mom has a friend who owns a catering business and they serve the most incredible food. My mom decorates the terrace with all these flowers and lights, and at the stroke of midnight there's a fireworks show to celebrate the new year.”

“That sounds so nice,” you smile, then lean back to look at him. “Any New Year's kiss plans, Jaeger?”

“I don't know,” he sighs. “There's this girl I have a huge crush on but I don't know if she'll say yes.”

“That's too bad,” you say. “One-sided crushes are the worst.”

He nods in mock disappointment. 

“I'll just have to settle for you.”

“I guess you should.”

He kisses your cheek once, which soon transforms into a full-on attack of affection as he tickles and pokes your sides, making you laugh until you're gasping for air and tears of joy line your eyes.

Laughter echoes throughout the Jaeger home as the three of you browse the pages of Eren's baby photo albums.

After a relaxing shower and filling your bellies with heaps of Carla's pasta — she promised to pass on the recipe to you before you left — she left the dining room with a mischievous grin on her face, only to return with a stack of five albums, one for each early year of his life, and a box with more photos from later years. 

The three of you curled up on the sofa in the living room — you in between each Jaeger.

“This one has to be my new favorite,” you laugh as you land on a new spread.

Your eyes focus on a picture of a chubby nine-month-old Eren wearing nothing but a diaper and a pair of black boots, his eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses as he grips his tiny hands on the edge of a chair. 

Eren blushes when you turn to look at him with eyes crinkled in amusement and giggles leaving your lips.

“You already have like twenty favorites,” he chuckles.

“You were a really cute baby,” you defend. 

“This one is my favorite,” Carla points out, as she turns to the next page to reveal a photo of him fully naked with his back to the camera as he looks over his shoulder with a pout on his lips. 

You fall into a fit of giggles, gushing at baby Eren's adorable expression. 

“This feels like a hate crime,” he mutters.

“On who?” you laugh.

“On me, obviously!”

He tries to seem annoyed but the truth is, he enjoys watching your eyes light up as you watch him grow up between every still image.

The three of you share more laughs and you and Carla especially gang up on Eren when you reach the photo series from when he was going through a self-proclaimed model phase, where he would strike the most ridiculous poses he could think of in every frame.

You resist your tiredness until the last of the pictures has been graced by your delighted critique, to the point where you practically collapse onto the bed hours later when you and Eren go back to the pool house for the night. 

With Eren's warm embrace and the hours of travel catching up to you in an instant, you quickly fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Your first official day in Paradis has a late start. After your late-night laughs, you didn't wake up until nearly noon. Though you intended to help Carla make breakfast and clean, she was very understanding about how tired you were after such a long day. 

Even so, a couple of hours later, you hoped your assistance in baking cookies would be enough to make up for it.

You and Carla seem to make quite the team as you move around the kitchen in sync — sifting dry ingredients and mixing the wet ones, all while keeping your stations clean for the next steps. 

Christmas music plays in the background as Carla's infectious joy for the eve of her favorite holiday spreads through the house and wraps you in the same eagerness. 

“I've never made Christmas cookies before,” you mention, as you raise the whisk from your mixing bowl to check the consistency of your chocolate batter for the bundt cake Carla put you in charge of as she rolls out the dough for the cookies.

“Really?” Carla asks.

You nod.

“One of my neighbors gifted me some once when I was younger, but they were store-bought. And my mom wasn't much of a baker… or into holidays, for that matter.”

Carla glances at you with a sympathetic smile as she sets aside the rolling pin and eyes the thickness of the slab of gingerbread dough.

“It must've been hard for you at times, huh?”

Eren shared some details of your past with his mother before making the trip. Not that he expected her to say anything hurtful, but because he figured she shouldn't be caught off guard in case you were particularly sensitive about something.

“I can't really miss what I've never known,” you reply with a shrug. “I think there was a time when I would feel a little jealous of the kids at school after winter break when they would brag about all the stuff they did. It was normal for them but to me, it seemed like a luxury. I'm sure there were some good holiday moments at my house but they were too early on for me to remember.” 

Carla nods, lips pursed and eyes pensive.

“Is there anything you want to try this week?” she asks with a smile. “Eren and I always watch a movie on Christmas Eve and eat cake.”

With a shy smile on your face, you shrug.

“I don't really know. That's already more than I've done on my own… and I'm having enough fun already.”

Carla's smile grows wider at your words.

“Well, if you think of something else, let me know, okay?”

Appreciatively, you nod.

Just as you're about to pour the chocolate batter into the mold, Eren pops into the kitchen, eyes zeroing in on the whisk in your hands.

For the sake of spending more quality time with you, Carla asked her son to keep out of the kitchen — that, and because she doesn't want his sticky fingers near the cake batter. But, of course, he just had to make an appearance during his break from cleaning the pool.

“Looking good,” he comments, pressing a hand against the small of your back so he can get to the fridge for a glass of cold water.

A smile paints across your features as you continue pouring the batter into the mold, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a wooden spoon.

“Are you done with the pool already?” Carla asks him, to which he nods as he chugs down the glass of water.

“Sure am, ma'am.”

Carla hums with skepticism. 

“Go water my plants now, will ya?”

Eren straightens his posture, giving his mom a soldier's salute before making his way out. 

He pauses when he's right behind you, snatching the wooden spoon over your shoulder, pecking your lips when you turn around looking startled. 

“I'll take that,” he grins, winking at your flustered face before exiting the room, laughing on the way as Carla yells at him to not distract her baking buddy.

You bring a hand to your lips, laughing nervously as you avoid Carla's amused gaze.

The two of you take on either side of the slab of dough with cookie cutters as the holiday cheer heightens.

A while later, after the kitchen's been wiped down and the sweet smell of cookies and cake permeates the air, the three of you settle in the living room to fulfill the Jaeger’s Christmas Eve tradition.

You're snuggled between Eren's legs on the reclinable seat, your body covered by a blanket. The nights in Paradis run as cold as the afternoons are hot, but that's no issue when your boyfriend is always so warm.

Eren has his arms wrapped around your waist and every few moments he'll lean down to kiss the crown of your head. Your back picks up the vibrations of his chest when he laughs at a funny scene, as well as his heartbeat, which echoes in sync with yours as your fingers lace with his underneath the blanket.

The tree lights twinkle from the corner of the room as the only source of light aside from the TV. The air is sweet and you're at peace with a stomach full of cake and hot chocolate with peppermint and marshmallows. 

Good holidays have been rare, but this one so far will remain at the top of your list for years to come, you're sure.

The morning after, you're huddled on the floor around the Christmas tree, watching Carla open the gift you got her — a steel jewelry kit with an assortment of stones to embed into her creations. 

Her face lights up like a child's and she throws her arms around you in appreciation. 

“It's perfect!” she exclaims. “How did you know?” She narrows her eyes at her son, assuming he forecasted her next hyperfixation. 

Eren raises his hands in defense.

“It was all her,” he says with a proud grin on his face.

“Thank you,” she smiles as she pronounces your name.

Eren gives her his gift next — a signed vinyl of her favorite band from her early twenties, which receives an equally big reaction.

Eren bursts out laughing when he unwraps your present and pulls out a chibi Sailor Mars figurine. 

“This is amazing,” he grins, turning the box in his hands with fascination. 

You and Eren each receive hand-knit sweaters from Carla, made with intricate patterns and neat stitches in vibrant colors and soft wool.

When it's your turn to open Eren's gift, he holds his breath as he carefully watches you peel off the paper from the black velvet box.

“Oh, wow,” you murmur as you lift the delicate necklace to admire the pendant up close. It's an angel cast in silver, its tiny hands holding a sphere made out of your birthstone.

A knot forms in your throat as you look back at a shyly smiling Eren.

“It's a guardian angel,” he explains in that gentle voice that makes you weak at the knees.

He gestures for you to angle yourself so he can put the necklace on you.

Carla admires the scene from her place with proud eyes and her hands over her heart.

“Do you like it?” Eren asks, his face hovering over your shoulder to gauge your reaction as you look down at the little angel that rests a couple of inches below your collarbone. 

Turning around to face him, you nod, eyes shimmering with joy and appreciation for the boy before you.

“I love it.”

After breakfast, you and Eren wander back into the pool house hand in hand.

You collapse onto the bed, side by side as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Are you happy?” he asks.

“You asked me that yesterday,” you smile. “And the day before, too. Do I not look happy?”

He chuckles airily.

“I just wanna make sure.”

You prop your weight on your elbow and cup his face with your free hand. 

The silver angel dangles between you, catching the light that comes through the window. 

“I'm extremely happy,” you murmur, bending down to kiss him as soon as the words leave your mouth.

He smiles into the kiss.

“Good.”

You stand from the bed, walking over to the mirror above the dresser. Smiling, you tilt your head, swaying your upper body so you can see how the angel looks at different angles.

Eren admires you from the bed for a moment before coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I have a second gift for you,” he murmurs slyly. 

Your eyebrows rise with intrigue.

From the mirror, you see him pull something from his back, waving it into view.

Your grin widens at the familiar image of black boots and sunglasses.

“The baby picture!” you exclaim.

You turn around in his arms to take hold of the glossy photo paper.

“It's all yours,” he smiles, then lifts your chin to kiss you on the lips. “And so am I.”

You sink into his kiss, soft and warm, as your arms drape around his neck.

You're giddy with excitement as you, Eren, and Carla venture between scattered beach towels and umbrellas in search of a good spot to settle down.

As expected of Paradis Island's track record, the weather is perfect for a day at the beach. Eren is happy at the chance to make up for the lack of water activities from your first date, as you finally get to cross out one of the items on your bucket list. 

You find a good spot at an equal distance from the water and the seaside eatery where families gather for food after their afternoon swim.

It's not as crowded as you expected, but enough people thought the beach was the perfect setting to unwind from any leftover Christmas chaos from the day before.

Eren fixes the beach umbrella while you and Carla smooth your towels on the sand. Eren gulps hard when you tug off your t-shirt and shorts, revealing once more the delicate swimsuit you bought for the occasion, before lathering yourself in sunscreen, aided by Carla for the spots you can't reach.

When you stepped out of the room in your one-piece earlier today — one with embroidered flowers and delicate straps tied in bows on your shoulders — while tugging on a pair of shorts to keep you modest, Eren nearly passed out.

The drive over allowed him to cool down and thankfully, you threw on that baggy t-shirt, too, or he would've been too flustered to drive.

He plops down onto the beach towel next to yours, watching you share a laugh with Carla over something unknown to him. You turn to him with a smile, kissing his cheek before offering to help him put on sunscreen.

He blushes but nods.

Your fingers sear his back as you massage the sunscreen into his bare skin. You catch glimpses of his flustered demeanor as you work your way down his back. The tips of his ears are flushed red, and when you finally finish, he shyly averts his gaze. 

After a quick look over your shoulder to make sure Carla is distracted looking for something in her bag, you lift Eren's chin and place a soft kiss on his lips.

“What was that for?” he smiles, glancing at his mom lying behind you. He knows you've been shy about kissing him in front of her.

“Because you're cute,” you tease with a shrug before relaxing against your towel.

Eren laughs to himself before taking a moment to relax in the sand as well. His hand meets yours in the middle and he interlocks your fingers, relishing in the warmth of your soft hand and that provided by the heated sand underneath him.

Carla's engrossed in a romance fantasy novel, which she reads through her sunglasses while you and Eren take in the salty air and the collective rustle of fellow beachgoers, with their distant cheers and laughter in between splashes of water.

“I'm gonna go for a swim,” Eren says after a while, carefully releasing your hand before standing. “Wanna join me?” he asks you, hoping you remember his promise to teach you.

You do. 

“Maybe in a little bit,” you smile.

With a crooked smile, he nods before jogging out toward the water.

You and Carla watch him run into the water without hesitation before diving in and swimming for a few feet until he resurfaces and waves at you from a distance.

An endeared smile takes over your features by reflex.

“He's pretty energetic, isn't he?” Carla laughs.

You nod.

“That's one of the things I like about him,” you murmur.

Carla glances at you briefly as she wedges her bookmark into the freshly read pages and sets the novel down on the sand. 

“Eren really likes you, you know,” she smiles. You nod. “I've never seen him so infatuated.” 

You giggle nervously.

“Yeah, but he's had a girlfriend before, right? That's what he told me.”

Carla racks her memory for a moment. 

“Oh, you mean Frieda!” she exclaims. “They dated in high school. She was a nice girl, but I don't think it compares to the way he looks at you. Besides, their romance was pretty short-lived. I don't think she liked him enough.”

You nod along to her words, wondering how anyone could ever not fall for Eren.

“He's a bit of a hopeless romantic,” she adds. “I figured most people would like that but I guess not all of them do.”

“Well, I do,” you assure her. “I like that he's sensitive.”

You poke holes into the sand with your index finger, unaware of the lazy grin that shapes your lips until Carla points it out.

“Do you love him?”

You immediately nod.

“I told him a while back, too… but he didn't say anything. I didn't expect him to, I know I might’ve said it a bit early but… everything feels right with him. I think I might’ve scared him, though.”

An amused air leaves Carla's lips.

“Oh, honey. He brought you here, didn't he?”

Embarrassed, you laugh down at your lap.

A looming shadow draws your attention. You look up to find Eren standing before you, hair wet and droplets streaming down his tan skin, swerving between every dip and curve of his toned torso.

“Hey,” he grins. “Ready?” 

Picking up your jaw and smiling, you nod before looking over at Carla.

“Mind if I steal her away for a bit, mom?” Eren asks.

Carla dismisses you with a wave of her hand.

“Go, have fun. I've got my book,” she says, plucking the bookmark from its place.

You take off your angel necklace, leaving it for Carla to keep safe in her bag. Eren helps you up with one easy pull and leads you through the sand.

The sun blares onto his back, drying off the smaller specks of water from his form as you walk to the shoreline. 

“What were you guys talking about this time?” he asks.

“You, obviously.”

He grins.

“All good things, I hope.”

You smile at him.

“Always.” 

The two of you walk along the shoreline, playfully swinging your linked hands as you distance yourself from the more crowded waters. 

“Here’s probably good,” Eren says once you reach a less saturated area.

You look around nervously, checking for any onlookers near the scene, but Eren’s quick to reassure you.

“Nobody’s gonna be looking at us,” he smiles, squeezing your hand. He steps backward into the water, gently tugging you along with an encouraging shimmer in his eyes.

The water causes you to shudder as you come into contact. It’s not too cold, but combined with the prospect of trying something new, it awakens a nervous response.

Eren carefully guides you deeper into the water until it reaches your waist. Instinctively, you catch yourself standing on your tiptoes the entire time, too unfamiliar with the wet sand beneath you to properly set your feet on the floor. You gently push your weight up, testing if you can somehow float even just the tiniest bit, but your body’s fearful reaction almost causes you to lose balance, if it wasn’t for Eren holding your hands. You go back to standing on your toes. 

“Isn’t it dangerous to learn how to swim in moving waters?” you ask, making nervous minuscule steps toward and away from Eren. You can’t seem to keep still with the feel of the sand shifting under your weight. “Maybe you should teach me in the pool. At least I can't drown there.”

“Relax,” Eren chuckles. Your nervous doe eyes have him in an amused trance. In his eyes, you're a clumsy baby deer learning to walk. “I worked as a lifeguard.”

You blink up at him, still making those tiny aimless steps.

“Did you really?”

“No,” he chuckles, too weak to lie when you’re holding onto his hands so tightly and looking up at him so helplessly. “But I’m not gonna let you drown; you’re too precious.”

You heat up in embarrassment. It’s not enough that you’ll likely make a fool of yourself but he can’t stop flirting even for a moment.

“How can I trust you after you just lied to me?” you pout.

Smiling, he lifts your chin with his index finger, leaning in to capture your lips in a brief kiss.

“Fine,” you murmur, miserably failing at hiding your flustered smile. “I trust you.”

He eagerly grins as he tells you to continue holding onto him and just allow your lower body to rise and float. You fail a few times, your fear keeping your legs from staying parallel to the water. Eren helps you, murmuring gentle commands and tips until you finally manage to stay afloat on your stomach.

“Now, try kicking,” he says, momentarily releasing one of your hands to mimic the motions with two fingers. 

His instructions are clear and in that soft tone he uses with none but you. Even when you're feeling self-conscious or silly it mostly stems from an inner source. Whenever he happens to laugh, it’s because he’s happily encouraging you and cheering you on, or because you’re laughing too.

When he begins pulling you around the water as you practice kicking, he teases you by racing a few steps, causing you to lose your center of gravity. The two of you erupt in laughter as he quickly hoists you up by your waist until you regain your balance.

“You jerk!” you laugh, using as much force as you can muster to splash him with water. 

He raises his forearms in defense, grinning as the salty water washes over his form, before returning your attack in the next instant.

You continue attacking each other with water, squinting at the salt that manages to reach your eyes and trying hard not to laugh to keep from tasting it.

Eren draws his body closer. His attacks are much more aggressive, making you back away from your offense and resorting to shield yourself with your arms while you gleefully squeal words of surrender and pleas for mercy.

The splashing stops when his arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back into his chest as he spreads salty kisses onto your cheek.

You turn around in his arms, grinning widely as you catch your breath. 

He looks adoringly into your eyes, airy laughter sputtering from his lips as he smooths your hair back with one hand and squeezes your hip with the other.

“That was an unfair fight, Jaeger,” you breathe. “You’re supposed to go easy on your girlfriend.”

“I don’t know. You were pretty feisty,” he grins.

You pull him in for a kiss, easily ignoring the saltiness on his lips as a satisfied hum bubbles up his throat.

You lean back, still mirroring each other’s smile.

“Want me to teach you to float on your back?” he suggests.

You hesitate. 

“That one scares me a little,” you admit. “What if I’m carried away by the current?”

He laughs.

“You won’t, there are barely any waves. Come on, it’s really cool once you get it.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, you nod.

Under his guidance and his strong arms, you're lifted parallel to the water again, only this time you’re on your back. His hands are pressed under your upper back and just below your glutes for support, as he tells you how to adjust your form. 

“Lift your chin,” he gently instructs. “And arch your back just a little more.”

You focus intently on keeping your head centered, resisting the urge to look at him so you don’t tilt your weight. 

“I’m gonna let go, okay?”

You quickly utter a string of no’s.

“I’ll do it slowly, yeah?” he offers. “Just stay as you are, I’ll still be right here in case you lose your balance.”

Hesitant, but mildly intrigued to see if you can stay afloat on your own, you subtly nod.

“Okay.”

Slowly, the pressure of Eren’s firm hands strays from your body, leaving you to float on your own.

Holding his hands out for you to see, he proudly grins.

“There you go,” he laughs.

Nervous giggles spill from your lips as you observe the water from your peripheral vision. 

You close your eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of floating in water. Eren stands next to you, like a palm tree shading an island.

“Pretty cool, right?” he murmurs.

You grin in response. Your eyes flutter open, squinting at the sun. With Eren keeping watch, your body relaxes into the soft motions of the water.

A ripple in the water sways your form. It’s a small shift in movement, so it only adds to the experience.

That is until a slightly bigger one comes your way. It’s still small enough that it would barely faze you had you been standing, but in your current position, it’s enough to startle you.

Eren reaches for your hand once he notices the mild panic in your eyes, but your arms shoot out to cling to his neck as you clumsily lift your upper body from the water. The ripple passes through, and your feet have yet to meet the ground. Eren’s hands are wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady as your doe eyes look up at him in apology for the sudden assault.

In one swift motion, he hooks his arms under your legs, wrapping them around his torso — simultaneously putting an end to your struggle and fixing you in a compromising position. 

“You okay?” he murmurs, his face mere inches from yours.

Flustered, you nod.

He smiles; you mirror the expression. 

His gaze flits to your parted lips, which expel soft breaths. 

He leans forward, tilting his head slightly as his nose brushes against yours. Your eyes flutter closed as he captures your lips in a gentle kiss. His lips are salty but warm as they slot between yours. Your hands are still hooked behind his neck from when you clung to him when the second ripple passed through the water. You ease your grip to weave your fingers in his hair, the water droplets trailing from the strands, and onto your palms as you deepen the kiss.

His sigh of relief falls inside your mouth, as your tongue brushes against his, eliciting goosebumps on your sun-kissed skin.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you notice him hardening, the bulge under his swim trunks brushing precisely against your most sensitive spot.

You pull apart from the kiss, forehead pressed against his, as you glance down where your lower bodies meet.

Just two measly layers are keeping you apart, and you can easily make out the outline of his erection as you continue to peer down with shallow breaths leaving your parted lips.   

When you look back up, you’re met with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, bashfulness lacing his meek tone as he tries to laugh. “Not much I can do about Little Jaeger in this situation.”

Warily, he scans your face for any motion, any twitch to get a read on what you’re thinking.  He can easily put you down now but, frankly, he doesn’t want to. He just hopes you feel the same way because having you in his arms like this, with water droplets clinging to your skin and your hands lovingly petting his hair, is something he wants to prolong forever.

“It’s okay,” you breathe. “I don’t mind.”

You reconnect with his lips, gently sucking on his bottom lip, drawing out a strained moan from him in the process.

He can feel himself growing impossibly harder under his trunks. It’s getting more difficult by the second to keep himself together when you’re moving your tongue against his so slowly. Thankfully, you pull back a few moments later.

“We should probably get back to your mom, though,” you murmur. “And I’m kind of hungry now.”

He nods. He doesn’t want to, but he lowers you to the ground. His erection brushes against your lower stomach in the process, leaving you to stumble back with a flustered expression on your face.

“You should head back first,” he says, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m gonna need a minute to… calm down.”

You shyly avert your gaze but nod to let him know you understand before finding the way back to your spot on the beach without him.

Still dizzy from the recent exchange, Eren looks out onto the horizon, taking long, deep breaths until he’s ready to meet you for lunch.

You pad barefoot into the bedroom, ruffling your hair with your hands to catch another wave of the fresh scent from your shampoo. Standing at the foot of the bed, you stretch your arms over your head, smiling down at Eren, who observes you quietly through shimmering emerald eyes as his arm rests behind your pillow. After your long day at the beach, where you sunbathed with Carla, Eren taught you how to float, and you feasted on ceviche and coconut water, you’re more than ready to collapse.

You climb onto the bed next to Eren, snuggling into him as you always do, while he lazily wraps an arm around your waist as he always does. The golden light from the bedside lamp on his side acts as the only source of light, soft and comforting.

“You had quite a day today, babe. Think you're on your way to join the Olympics?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, scooting back so you can face him properly.

“Not if you keep dragging me around like that,” you deadpan. “That was an attempted murder.”

He laughs.

You watch him ease into a smile as his thoughts wander to somewhere unknown to you.

“My mom really likes you, by the way,” he murmurs as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

You prop yourself on one elbow, your interest piqued by his comment.

“Really? Did she tell you that?”

He nods as he raises his hand to trace the curve of your bottom lip.

“You know when you went to get shave ice? She told me then.”

“Ah, so you talk about me behind my back, too.”

An amused air blows through his nose.

“All good things. She kept going on and on about how pretty you are.”

“Is that so?” you say, leaning closer to his face.

“Mhm. She said you're the perfect girl for me.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

“That's a pretty bold statement.”

“What can I say? She's obsessed with you.”

You giggle as you lean even closer. His gaze flickers from your eyes, to your lips, and back again.

“Are you sure it wasn't you who said all those things?” 

“Oh, what? You think I'm obsessed with you?” he jests.

You suck in a meditative breath through your teeth. 

“I can't know for sure but you look like you really want to kiss me right now,” you reply, your tone laced with a hint of arrogance. 

“I don't know what you're talking about," Eren murmurs, immediately contradicting himself by lifting his chin to meet your lips, which linger dangerously close above him.

“Hm… then maybe I'm wrong,” you say, pulling back just as his lips ghost beneath yours.

Eren blinks up at you, helplessly sighing. 

You giggle before dipping down, only to pull back at the last second once more.

You chew on your bottom lip as you look down at him with mischief tainting your gaze.

A gasp travels past your lips when Eren suddenly pushes you back on the bed, pinning your wrist down with a firm grip.

He hovers over you now, eyes stern and determined with your body caged between his legs.

From your point of view, he seems so big. And the strength with which he keeps you in place reminds you he's as tough and manly as he is gentle and sweet. It's a reminder that draws a tingling sensation in your stomach.

In the next second, his eyes soften, as does his grip on your wrist as he bends down to kiss you.

Your body relaxes upon the comfort of his mouth caressing yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as your free hand finds a home in his hair, urging him closer — a command he can't resist.

His careful tongue wanders into your mouth, swallowing the soft moan that bubbles up your throat. 

He breaks away from the kiss, exhaling heavily as he rests his forehead against yours.

The corners of your lips tug into a smile.

“Trying to finish what you started?” you murmur.

“Maybe,” he says before his voice grows timid. “Should I?”

Slowly, he pulls back just enough to properly gauge your reaction. 

Your eyes twinkle as they hold his intense gaze. They travel over every single one of his features — his upturned eyebrows, the pink cheeks, the lips that hold back from taking or releasing breaths, and the emerald eyes that twinkle just the same. 

“Please.”

Your voice is barely enough to be called a whisper, but the word reaches his ears just fine.

The kiss is quickly reignited; his tongue forces itself into your mouth, earning a delicate whimper in return as you free yourself from his grasp to pull him closer by his hair. Your fingers tangle themselves between the short chocolate strands as he needily sucks on your tongue, the mix of your spit slathered around your mouth in the midst of his sloppy greed. 

One forearm keeps his weight above you as his free hand grips your waist, your shirt riding up in the process as you writhe under him, desperate for his touch, for his lips, for his tongue.

As you grow dizzy from your frenetic makeout, your hands travel down his chest, feeling each tensed muscle over the cotton fabric until your fingers hook under the hem of his shirt, silently asking for him to undress.

He pulls back to give in to your wishes, swiftly tugging the garment over his head and tossing it onto the floor.

He takes a moment to look down at you, your frame suddenly so small beneath him but your pupils are blown with lust and excitement as they wander his bare torso.

Through shallow breaths and with trembling hands, you trace over every defined curve with the pads of your fingers, committing every shape to memory as you go. 

Eren bites back a smile. He knows you're only trying to be gentle, but your delicate fingers tickle his skin as they slowly explore his abdomen. 

He sucks in a sharp breath, brow furrowed and eyes fluttering shut when you reach the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

You eye him carefully as you trace the border of the only remaining piece of clothing on his body — testing his patience as you draw over the edge a couple of times before your fingers hook around the elastic band.

Slowly, you pull down his underwear, holding your breath until his semi-hardened cock springs out of its confines. 

From above, Eren closely watches your reaction, getting drunk off the image of your parted lips, your gentle half-lidded eyes, and your shy hands that carefully wrap around his growing erection. You stroke him once, to which he bites down on his bottom lip to keep himself from pronouncing any profanities, but when your thumb brushes over the sensitive head of his cock to collect the gathering amount of precum, his eyebrows upturn in pleasure and he fails to keep himself upright.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, falling down onto your chest, struggling to hold up his weight on his forearm while he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Your other hand nestles in his hair, comforting him as you continue stroking him.

His cock grows under your touch, fully hardening until it's pressed against your stomach when you finally release it.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the length of what's bound to penetrate your insides. 

“See what you do to me?” Eren's strained voice murmurs into your neck.

You turn your head to the side, trying to get a look at the boy whose feverish skin is burning through your clothes.

You call his name in the shape of a whine — a shy plea. 

He lifts his face from the crook of your neck, his eyes boring into yours before he leans forward to kiss you.

The kiss is less urgent than before, but equally needy. His warm tongue slips into your mouth, drawing out a relieved sigh.

“Let me do something for you, yeah?”

You look back at him quizzically, but he only pecks your lips before pressing an open-mouthed kiss onto your collarbone and lowering his body down the bed. He stops when his face is level with your abdomen. His fingers hook around the hem of your shirt, lifting the fabric to expose your stomach. 

Starting just below your ribs, he leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin, circling his tongue around your belly button when he reaches it and continues further down. 

You close your eyes, head thrown back as your mouth falls open from his affections. 

His fingers tug on the drawstring of your pajama shorts as he glances up at you for confirmation.

Meeting his questioning gaze, you nod, chewing on your lip as you lift your hips for him to slide the garment off your legs. He tosses it to the side and wraps his hands around your ankles, spreading your legs just enough for him to kneel comfortably between them.

Your heart quickens in anticipation, but he outstretches the thrill as he's intent on teasing you first. He holds up your left leg, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he litters your skin with the same open-mouthed kisses he left on your stomach. His mouth travels up your calf, up your inner thigh, and near the trim of your white cotton panties, where he nips at the skin with his teeth, sucking fervently before repeating the process on the other side.

He kisses your right calf, and up your inner thigh, and sucks on the skin before your panties start. And finally, he kisses your pussy over the cotton fabric as he watches you bite down on your bottom lip through his lashes. With his eyes finally closed, he loses himself in the sweet scent of your sex as he drags his tongue in rhythmic stripes, pressing into your clit through your underwear. Your whimpers echo throughout the room as you squirm under his tongue, hoping he'll rid you of your panties soon. 

But he takes his time.

He engages in a heated makeout with your pussy through your underwear, his tongue gliding over your entrance before his lips take their turn each time. 

Your pussy flutters around nothing, aching to be touched, to feel those fervent strokes from his tongue directly on your flesh.

There's a dark patch forming on your underwear, courtesy of his saliva and your built-up arousal. The flimsy cotton sticks to your pussy lips, giving Eren a perfect outline of your needy sex.

“Eren,” you whimper, finally earning a glance from the teasing man between your legs. 

Putting a pause on his teasing, his eyebrows rise in question.

“Please,” you beg, eyebrows upturned in a helpless manner. 

Your ruined panties are discarded. He hooks his hands behind your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders just in time for him to dive into your pussy like a starved man. His tongue swirls around your entrance, sending shivers up your spine as your fingers lose themselves in his hair. 

A guttural moan rises from the back of his throat as he collects every last trace of your arousal, the taste heavenly sweet on his tongue, though that might be because he's so undeniably whipped.

He repeats the same motions from before on your bare pussy, his mind reeling with dizzy pleasure when he feels you pulsing directly on his tongue. He buries his nose between your folds as his tongue prods deeper, lapping at every nook as he makes a mess of his face.

Checking in on you as he does, he pulls back and slowly inserts a finger inside you. You've barely any strength to utter a word, but the way you throw your head back with your eyebrows upturned in pleasure is enough for him to continue, adding one more finger as he curls them against your insides, searching for that sweet spot that makes your thighs twitch once he finds it.

He lowers his face back into your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He draws tight circles onto it, the pressure making you squirm in pleasure in addition to his lithe fingers that produce melodious wet noises as your arousal only continues flowing.

He sucks on your clit as your slick coats his fingers and drips down your ass and onto the covers. 

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you can only continue pushing his face down between your legs as you feel an orgasm creeping up on you.

You whine his name again.

Eren pulls out his fingers, quickly sucking them clean before finishing you off with his mouth.

His tongue languidly prods at your entrance and, with the aid of his fingers spreading your folds, he pushes his tongue inside you as far as he can, stroking your insides with the warm, tireless muscle. His thumb toys with your clit, drawing out a series of lustful cries from you until your toes curl and you squeeze your thighs around his head — not like he cares, anyway; it's practically a bonus reward.

With one last kiss pressed onto your pussy, he pushes himself back up.

When your eyes flutter open as you come down from your orgasm, he's hovering over you, his chin and plump lips glossy with your release and his spit. 

“How'd I do?” he asks breathlessly. His eyes twinkle as he awaits your review, hopeful that you'll praise him.

You pull him closer by his neck.

“So fucking good,” you breathe, before meeting his swollen lips.

Tasting yourself from his mouth feels nothing short of sinful but you happily suck on his lips to gather every last bit of your essence.

In the midst of getting you off on his tongue, Eren discarded his boxer briefs somewhere on the floor, so when he grinds his hips against yours in search of friction, there's nothing but flesh on flesh and neatly groomed pubic hair tickling your skin.

His hand massages the side of your waist, creeping up until he's met with the underside of your breast. This time, your lack of a bra doesn't surprise him, and he doesn't shy away, either. 

His hand eagerly gropes your breast, his fingers gently pinching the nipple as he swallows your moans.

He kneads the soft mound as his cock continues dragging between your folds, hitching on your entrance with every other stroke.

“Mind if I take this off?” he mumbles into your mouth.

You hum in approval, sitting up so he can tug the shirt over your head before falling back onto the pillow.

“Wow,” he whispers, eyes drinking in every detail of your upper body — your tender breasts, your pert nipples, your soft skin, your shiny hair splayed on the pillow, and your pretty face looking up at him with equal admiration.

You smile at him, raising a hand to caress his cheek. He closes his eyes at the contact and rests his hand over yours, turning around to press a kiss into your palm.

You giggle. He smiles down at you.

With your free hand, you travel up his chest, resting just above your favorite sound.

“Your heart's beating like crazy,” you point out.

He squeezes your hand before bending down to brush his nose against yours.

“I wonder why.”

Your eyes crinkle with glee as a shy smile takes over your lips.

He cradles your face with one hand, stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“You have no idea how precious you are to me.”

A warm glow spreads through your insides at his words, like golden honey that infiltrates your heart and pumps through every corner of your body.

“I think I do,” you whisper, to which he smiles.

He pulls back, eyes glassy and cheeks dusted with pink.

He reaches over to the bedside table, fumbling around the drawer as his angle keeps him from having a full view of the inside. He retrieves a foil square between two fingers.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Were you hoping to get lucky on this trip?” you tease.

“I bought them just in case,” he grins.

You nod in approval. 

“Good call.”

He tears the foil packet open, tossing it aside once he pulls out the contents, and rolls the condom down his length. 

He fixes himself on his forearm once more, caressing your face as his eyebrows rise in question.

“You sure?” 

With a small smile playing on your lips, you nod. 

With the help of his knee, he spreads your legs wider while reaching down to line himself with your entrance — all while maintaining eye contact.

He makes slow teasing stripes down your pussy with his tip — once, twice, three times — before he finally starts sliding inside of you. You hold onto his arm, the muscles firm at your fingertips as they work to keep him steadily above you.

His tip slides in with little resistance, though it's still a bit of a tight fit. Carefully scanning your face for any signs of discomfort, he pushes himself inside you in fragments. 

You close your eyes, sighing in relief when you finally feel the brush of his pubic hair against your lower tummy.

Eren closes his eyes for a moment, too, swallowing thickly as he comes to the realization that he's inside you. He's inside where everything is warm and wet and tight and comforting. 

He opens his eyes before you do. For another moment, he simply admires you, watching your parted lips release hushed breaths — your peaceful image close to that of an angel in prayer.

He smooths back your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

When your eyes finally open, you smile up at him. 

Taking that as a sign, he makes an experimental thrust, eyeing your reaction as he does so. 

You hook your arms under his, your hands pressed firmly against his back as he gradually gains more confidence with each stroke. He peppers your face with kisses until he settles on your lips, where he gingerly pulls on your bottom lip with his teeth, and his pleased sighs are poured down your throat.

You hug him tighter, moaning his name into his ear as he rolls his hips into yours with finesse. 

Eren's back grows sweaty with each of his movements, his breath shallowing at the same pace. Every drag of his hips brushes against your clit, making for the most well-rounded experience as he loses himself in the feeling of your insides fluttering around his length. 

“Does this feel good for you, baby?” he asks as he presses your foreheads together.

“Uh-huh,” you whimper. “Don't stop, Ren. Please.” 

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he smiles before capturing your lips in a needy kiss.

You sigh into his mouth as your tongues swirl around each other, heightening your arousal while he continues building up the pace of his hips. His fingers dig into your waist, acting as leverage for his increasingly faster thrusts. You buck your hips upwards, meeting him halfway in search of more friction. 

“My baby,” he coos against your mouth.

The room is filled with squelching noises of your arousal glossing his length over the condom. Every vein, every curve of his thick cock leaves its mark on your insides, permanently altering your body to fit him. Every deep thrust, every tight circle drawn by his thumb plants a seed for a permanent craving that only he can satisfy. Only he can draw out such pretty noises from your mouth. Only he can make your sweet and innocent voice morph into that of a sinful, greedy woman who wishes to be brought to pleasure by his expert touch. Only he can make love to you like this.

His balls are quickly growing heavy, slapping against your ass with every roll of his hips — the sound echoing in your ears. 

With one quick kiss to his cheek, you push him back gently. He falls onto his back, his aching cock pulsing into nothing but air as he scoots back to rest against the headboard, watching through adoring eyes as you straddle his lap and lower yourself onto his cock with a whimper, relieving yourself from the momentary emptiness you felt. His hands grip your hips with a bruising force, his jaw slack as he watches you expertly move your hips, rocking back and forth against his pelvic bone to satisfy your clit, and up and down to satisfy him.

He fondles one of your breasts as your face falls into the crook of his neck, whimpering and blubbering about how good you feel with him buried deep inside you. One of your hands tangles in his hair while the other digs crescents into his back. 

It’s unreal. To think he’s allowed to be this close to you, to be blessed with the opportunity to melt into your touch. Every whimper, every instance of begging, every drowned-out moan as you hide your face in the crook of his neck — it's beyond addictive. 

You're both coated in sweat, the place where your bodies meet growing stickier with every passing second. Your thighs begin to burn as you continue riding him, trying your best not to lose your pace as he sucks on your nipples and your head falls back in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he huffs. “Keep riding my cock like that.”

You tighten around him at the unexpected dirty talk.

Eren's always such a gentleman, so this shift in behavior is surprising — though certainly not unwelcome. 

“Eren,” you whine, looking down at him helplessly as you continue bouncing on his cock.

He flashes you with his signature boyish smile.

“I got you.”

In one swift motion, you're flipped back on the bed while Eren hovers over you. Refusing to let your build-up slip away, he reconnects with you in an instant, sloppily thrusting into you as your legs wrap around his waist.

“Look at you,” he breathlessly coos as he caresses your thigh with one hand and cradles your face with the other. “My baby's so fucking pretty.”

The sounds of slapping skin and moisture reign the room. Your nails dig into his back, scarring the skin with red marks, claiming his body as yours — not that he would want it any other way. Your feverish body clings to him like he's the only thing keeping you grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens more and more.

Sweat drips down his forehead and the now dark chocolate strands that frame his face. His pupils are blown with lust, nearly dominating the entirety of his sweet emerald irises, but his usual warmth remains.

His hips start bucking erratically, his rhythm carelessly tossed out the window as he hooks his arms under your legs and presses them toward your chest. The new angle has you crying out in pleasure as he uses his last bit of strength to sloppily thrust into you a few more times.

The coil reaches its limit, snapping at the hilt of your ecstasy as you cry out his name and your toes curl in pleasure.

A couple of thrusts later, he's spilling hot ropes of cum into the condom and releasing hoarse moans into the crook of your neck. 

His hips finally stop as you lay there, limbs tangled and bodies sticky, while you steady your breathing. His hand rests on your waist, tenderly stroking the skin with his thumb as you comb through his hair with your fingers. 

The air is thick with the sweet remnants of your sexual fulfillment. 

Reluctantly, he pulls out of you, his cock already softening inside the condom as he falls onto his back and pulls you by the waist so that you rest on top of his chest. 

His hand affectionately smooths your back as he takes in your exhausted features. 

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice still too weak to speak as normal.

Not yet recharged from your passionate lovemaking, you just nod.

You smile at each other.

“I didn't… I mean, I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?”

You shake your head at his worried expression before leaning forward to peck the corner of his mouth.

“It was perfect.”

He smiles again. 

Carefully, you lift yourself off his chest before any more soreness settles into your muscles and you begin scouring the floor for your clothes. 

Eren sits up on the bed, ridding himself of the used condom and tying it in a knot as he watches you slip on your underwear.

“What's wrong?” he asks when you click your tongue in confusion.

“I can't find my shirt,” you mutter as you pick up a garment from the floor, only to find it's not what you're looking for. “I don't want to walk around naked. What if your mom comes?”

Eren glances around briefly before he lights up at an idea upon spotting his own white t-shirt on the floor. 

“Here,” he says, tossing the garment in your direction. You catch it with ease. “Just wear mine.”

Without thinking too much about it, you tug on the shirt over your head, the fabric cascading down your body and falling mid-thigh.

“Thanks,” you smile before grabbing a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser and stepping out the door, leaving Eren a blushing mess at the lingering image of you wearing his clothes.

A few minutes later, both clean and tired, you snuggle into each other under the covers. Eren reaches behind him to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving you in peaceful darkness.

“Are you happy?” he asks.

You smile.

“I've never been happier.”

With your hand on his chest and his arm around your waist, you fall asleep.

The following morning, you're woken by the sunlight sifting through the curtains.

When you squint your eyes open, you see Eren smiling at you.

You giggle. 

“How long have you been staring at me?”

“Not too long,” he grins. “You look pretty when you're sleeping.”

Your face warms as you hold onto him tighter. Your body is still dealing with the tired symptoms from last night's heated encounter.

“You think your mom will mind if we stay in bed all day?”

“I don't think I can go that long,” he murmurs. 

It takes you a second to realize what he's hinting at but, when you do, you playfully slap his shoulder. He laughs.

“How are you feeling?” he smiles.

“I'm just a bit sore,” you reply honestly.

He hums in response.

“You wanna postpone our plans?” he asks, concerned you might be too tired for today's itinerary. “We can go out tomorrow.”

To his surprise, you shake your head.

“No, I still wanna go. Just give me a few more minutes.” 

He smiles as he looks down at your tired form. You're wearing that same relaxed expression from last night, reminiscent of an angel when he was hovering over you.

Three words teeter the tip of his tongue, but when his lips part to pronounce them, he retreats, flustered.

So with a quick kiss to your temple, he slips out from under the covers, gets dressed, and ventures to the main house. 

Carla's fixing herself breakfast in the kitchen when he walks in. She greets him with a smile, asking where you are.

“She's still asleep. She's pretty tired from yesterday,” Eren explains, hoping that if he doesn't think about it too much, he won't seem suspicious. 

But Carla only nods in understanding as she sits down to enjoy her omelet. 

“We’re going into town today. I’m gonna show her around. Wanna come?” Eren asks with a smile.

“I can’t today, honey. I’m meeting up with my book club later and I need to catch up on my reading. But you two have fun.”

Eren nods.

A couple of minutes pass by in silence. He stares at a blank point as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Would you like me to make you one?” Carla asks, an amused look on her face as she notices her son intently staring at her omelet.

Eren blinks. 

“Oh, no. I’m good.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Can I ask you something?”

She sets her fork down, resting her chin on her laced hands with a nod.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

Eren nervously wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, taking a deep breath as he gathers the right words to speak his mind.

“A while back,” he pronounces your name softly. “She told me she loves me.”

Carla smiles, having known that already since you told her.

“But I kind of choked at the time.”

Carla tilts her head, her features serious now. She’s seen the affectionate look in his eyes whenever he sees you, and the way he’s so gentle when treating you. However, perhaps it’ll be easier if he practices admitting his feelings out loud.

“Was it because you don’t…” she trails off, but Eren quickly denies what she’s implying with a shake of his head.

“No, that’s not it. I was just surprised when she said it… It felt really good to hear it,” he smiles.

“So what’s got you worried?” she tenderly asks.

Eren looks down at the counter, gaze lost on the patterns of the mismatched tiles that somehow harmoniously blend together.

“I just… She hasn’t said it since. And I keep trying to tell her how I feel but now I’m worried that, because I didn’t say it back that time, she… might not feel the same way anymore.”

Carla’s concerned features soften, her lips perking into an endeared smile before her son’s anxious expression.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs.

Eren blushes.

“Do you think that’s it? Do you think she changed her mind?”

“You beautiful dumb boy,” Carla laughs.

She reaches over to squeeze his hand.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?”

“And this is where I dislocated my elbow.”

Eren points to a spot a few feet from the seesaw. 

“How’d you do that?” you ask.

“I let go when it was my turn going up,” he meekly explains, to which you laugh into your hand.

“Oh, Eren.”

You can picture the scene in your head — a young Eren flying into the air after trying to act tough by raising his hands from the handlebar, too young to understand the physics behind the oncoming accident.

He grins as he guides you toward the swings, where he offers you a seat before stepping behind you and gently pushing you.

“The swings are supposed to be for the kids,” you giggle as he pushes you higher.

“It’s not like that’s a law,” he replies with a shrug.

He settles into the swing beside you, promptly matching your height as the chain creaks under his weight. 

As you fly up in the air, he glances over at you. You’ve got the same youthful look in your eyes from the evening you spent together building a sandcastle with Josie. Your face lights up in the same delighted manner. You’re a kid again.

Classical music echoes in your ears from your headphones as you turn the page of the novel Carla left you before leaving to meet the ladies from her book club. 

She gifted you an extra copy from one of the titles in her personal library — last month’s read which she thought you would enjoy. You’re curled up on the yellow velvet sofa, snacking on a clementine from the bag Eren bought for you at the market. As you turn to the next chapter, you catch a glimpse of movement from your peripheral vision, and you look up to find Eren leaning on the bathroom door frame, wearing a robe. 

You pause your music and set your headphones aside.

“What are you doing?” you smile.

He tilts his head in a flirtatious manner.

“I filled up the pink bathtub.”

Your smile grows as you stand to accept the hand he holds out for you to take.

Candles are burning in every corner of the bathroom as vanilla-scented bubbles rest on the water’s surface.

Eren’s robe pools at his feet and he steps into the pink bathtub first, relaxing in the water with his back pressed against the porcelain as his arms rest on either side of the tub. He watches you undress, an enamored smile shaping his lips as you gradually reveal every delicate curve of your nude body to him. 

Using his hand as support, you step into the warm water and settle between his legs, your back flush against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. 

You instantly relax in his arms, every trace of leftover soreness vanishing from your body as you scoop up the vanilla foam in your hands and rub it between your palms.

Eren presses an open-mouthed kiss onto your bare shoulder and the slope of your neck.

“Are you happy?” he whispers into your ear.

You smile.

“Very.”

He hums in approval.

“I had fun at the park today,” you add.

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“I felt like a kid again when you were pushing me on the swing.”

He chuckles softly. You continue as he listens closely.

“I feel like you really spoil me sometimes.”

“Does that bother you?” he asks, his eyebrows upturned in concern as he wonders if you still don’t feel entirely comfortable with all the attention he gives you.

But you smile and shake your head.

“I like it,” you murmur shyly. “I feel like God compensated me for everything by putting you in my life.”

Your voice weakens with your confession, pulling at Eren’s heartstrings in the process. When you look back at him, tears are lining your lashes, but your features remain cheerful.

“I’m glad I met you, Eren,” you smile before facing forward again.

“I’m glad I met you, too,” he whispers, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You remain quiet, allowing your synced breathing to be the only one to take up the room.

Eren’s thumbs trace up and down your stomach, as you sink further down his chest.

After a while, your voice breaks through the silence. 

“Eren?”

He hums in response.

“Do you still want to know everything?”

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[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x reader

Chapter twenty six | I love you, I’m sorry

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Warnings - ANGST! Guns, and shooting, Death, mentions of sex, cursing, usual twd warnings

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

(A/N) - it’s finally here! Yay I’ve been working on this chapter since may and I’m so happy I’ve finally finished it. I know progress with my fics have been moving a little slower that they usually do but I’m hoping fingers crossed 🤞that I am able to speed the process up a little in the coming months 🫶🏻 also finally introducing the governor as the readers father in this chapter, I kind of hinted at it last chapter, to play around with the idea of it being canon. And I really like the ideas and situations I’ve came up in my head to put them in.

‘The suicide king’

S3 ep 9

Daryl is unbagged and pushed forward towards the middle of the arena. Merle and Daryl stand frozen, their eyes scanning the crowd in utter disbelief. The deafening sound of boos and heckles echoes throughout the arena, drowning out any other noise. Daryl's chest is heaving, faster and faster with each shout made from the audience of people. A blonde woman is attempting to force her way through a group of people, most likely the Governor's personal bodyguards, to get closer to him.

She manages to get through the first set before a surprise second set grabs her up before she can even get to his side. The governor - or maybe I should just start calling him Philip - because I finally know who the man behind the oh-so-mysterious name 'the governor' is. It's funny, I've been looking for this man for the last, what? 20 years of my life and I'm able to find him not even a year into the apocalypse so easily. How could he avoid his kids for 20 years in the old world, but he couldn't even last a year without me finding him now?

I really want to know how my father, Philip Blake, ended up being some dictator for a survivor's refugee camp. I almost want to laugh at how 'badass' he looks right now. makeshift eyepatch over one eye, as he looked over all his people so proud to be an asshole. My father was never much of a threat, but god he tried to be, though he really tried. I didn't hear much about my dad growing up, my maternal grandpa always muttered about how he was "such an asshole of a man", but the one thing I did hear from my paternal grandmother was that he ended up skipping town got some stupid office job and started a new family. it was all some bullshit about needing to start over, without my 'slut of a mother'.

His arm raises, so it's pointing towards Merle. The people of Woodbury immediately quiet down as their leader begins to speak. "I asked where your loyalties lie. You said here." Daryl was finally let out of whatever shackles that were placed around his arms, letting them fall to his sides freely. "Well, prove it. Prove it to us all." My blood runs cold.

"Brother against brother," he says with a dry chuckle. The crowd copies their leader, letting out a small chuckle that's paired with a quiet "yeah."

"Winner goes free" the crowd cheers at that, probably hoping and praying that Merle is able to win. Even though Merle was now deemed possibly 'unloyal' in the governor's eyes, it was still the better option for them. If Daryl died, Merle would have absolutely no reason to want to help us. Merle would go back to being Philip's loyal righthand man, and we, the 'terrorists' would be dead. Glenn had already told them our location and they would be marching up to our door with pitchforks in no time. Philip walks towards Merle shouting "Fight to the death!" as he does so. The crowd cheers once again. This was a scene taken straight out of one of those shitty medieval times shows.

The blonde woman finally turns, revealing her whole face to me. Andrea, the woman I thought I had accidentally left for dead, was here? Of all places, how did she end up here? Well, she had already shown us she didn't care about being led by an asshole, and if she was as close with Philip as she seems, she should already know how much of an asshole he was. "Philip, please. Don't do this," Andrea pleads, as one of Philips's men holds her back. "Don't do this!" He doesn't even glance at her, choosing instead to keep his eye on his prey. He glares at the two men standing in front of him, a smirk on his face that shows he truly enjoys this. The torture. He doesn't even have to do it himself, he just has to sit back and watch.

Merle raises his hand in the air before shouting "Y'all know me!" the crowd cheers, and I can see the absolute look of betrayal on Daryl's face. "I'm gonna do whatever I got to do to prove..." He hesitates for a moment before swinging his arm back and delivering a forceful punch to Daryl's stomach. With a loud grunt, Daryl collapses to the ground, and the crowd erupts in excitement. I stand frozen, unable to believe what I'm witnessing. how could he do that? Do that to his brother? "Holy shit," Jack gasps as Daryl begins to push himself up off of the ground. "That's my loyalty to this town!" just as Daryl has gotten his head off of the ground, Merle kicks him, sending him right back onto the ground.

Daryl lies motionless on his back, his chest heaving up and down with a faint rhythm. My eyes are fixed on him, hesitant to glance away, as if by doing so I might miss the final moments of his life. Merle continues throwing blow after blow as Philip watches on the sidelines with a sick look on his face. The crowd cheers as they lead out a walker. It's practically on a leash as some man, probably another one of Philips's men, leads him toward Daryl and Merle.

Finally, Daryl throws a punch. It's towards Merle's ankles but it gets him somewhere. It gets Daryl back onto his feet. Daryl launches himself toward Merle, tackling him, or at least trying to, but Merle has a leg up in this competition. merle gets Daryl down to the ground first. Both men have their hands around each other's necks as three of Philips's men lead three walkers towards them.

I don't even know what to do to help Daryl out. I could cause some type of distraction. If something more dangerous happens, it could give Daryl the freedom to escape. My eyes fall to my bag. I open it up and grab my gun right as Daryl and Merle get back to their feet. The two are working together to defeat the walkers.

My ammunition is running dangerously low, but my determination to save Daryl is unwavering. I'm willing to take the risk and use my last bullet to help him escape. My breaths come in quick and shallow as I raise my gun, my hands trembling with apprehension. I take aim at a man standing near Philip. I let out one more shaky breath before pressing the trigger and letting the bullet fly out of the gun and toward the man. Luckily for me, my aim was amazing today. The bullet tears right through his skull. Everyone around him screams as he falls to the ground with a thud.

Suddenly, someone behind Jack and I start shooting rounds into the arena, which makes even more of a ruckus. As I turned around to glance behind me, my eyes fell on Maggie, who was casually leaning against the top of the cold metal dumpster that was situated behind us. She shoots round after round into the arena. I let out a sigh of relief and began running back towards her. rick throws one of his smoke bombs, and Maggie continues to shoot. All I can hear is the sound of the automatic rifle and screams. Everyone's scattering like flies. Rick looks up at me, his mouth is open as if he's about to ask me something before his eyes flick to Jack who's stood behind me. "Who's that?"

"Old friend... he helped me," I reply. Rick continues to stare at Jack, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if he's trying to find a reason not to like him. I already know what he's going to ask. "Is he one of the governor's men?" I quickly respond, "He was just a resident and didn't know anything about what was going on, right Jack?" Jack nods, muttering a quiet "mhm."

Daryl and Merle sprint towards us while Rick urges, "Daryl, let's go!" Without wasting any time, we all take off at full speed, our hearts pounding with fear of being spotted by Philip or his men. The only sound that can be heard is our pounding footsteps on the ground as we race towards safety.

-

We manage to escape the arena and run back into the main town area. We were cautious as we walked around, hoping everyone was in the arena, but there was no actual way to know, so we were as careful as we could.

"they're all at the arena, this way!!" Merle instructs, attempting to lead us toward an exit. Rick was quick to shoot down the idea of Merle going with us. "you're not going anywhere with us!" he growls. "You really want to do this now?!" Merle asks as he runs towards the fence, attempting to pry apart the metal, as Rick and Daryl stand guard. I pray to God Rick won't say anything about Jack going with us. I don't want him to stay here, knowing the possible doomed future of Woodbury.

Finally, Merle manages to pull apart the metal, leaving a nicely sized hole in its wake. We all slipped through without a problem, but we're only met with walkers on the opposite side. "A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!" Merle shouts as he beats a walker to death with his prosthetic arm. Daryl was quick to pitch in, shooting a walker with his bow. I pull my gun out, shooting off my last bullet into a walker's head, "We ain't got time for this!" before beginning to sprint off.

I stand motionless next to Jack, anticipation building as we await instructions from Rick. "let's go!" Daryl shouts once it's been more than a few seconds, Rick, Maggie, and I not moving. I'm glad Daryl hasn't asked about Jack yet. Maybe it's just because he's too busy to realize. But I hope he never mentions it. I'm scared he'll get mad, or jealous. He's just a friend now, hell we were tiptoeing around a breakup when the outbreak started. But I don't know how Daryl is with exes. I know he can get jealous; he has many times before. Normally, I can predict what he'll do in certain situations, but with Jack, I just don't know how Daryl will react. rick folds, deciding to follow after Merle rather than die.

-

The walk back to the car is long. My hands are in my pockets as I trail behind a bit, with everyone else at least a few feet ahead of me. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can't help but overhear Merle and Daryl's conversation. "sooo, wha's up with you'n tha' bitch?" Merle asks, his head tilting back, so it points towards me. My heart stops, wondering what Daryl would say. Would he refer to me as his girlfriend? Even though we already had discussed what our relationship was, and I was confident in my role as Daryl's girlfriend, I was scared that he'd be embarrassed to admit that we were in a relationship with his older brother.

Daryl's quiet for a few seconds, giving his brother enough time to throw in another comment. "You to fuckin' around or something?" Daryl chuckles left hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Um...I guess me'n her are together," he says with a shrug. Merle almost immediately bursts out in a booming fit of laughter, which makes Rick turn around and glare. I don't understand what's so funny. Was it so farfetched that Daryl and I were dating? I can see the back of Daryl's ears turn a bright red as his hands nervously play with the hem of his shirt. "yer datin' her! ain't she fuckin' that Chinese boy?" I almost scoff at Merle's assumption. I can almost hear Daryl's eyes roll as he says, "Nah... they're just friends."

"ya sure? I remem-" Daryl's quick to shut Merle down once again "I'm sure"

-

It's about 20 minutes later when we end up back at the other side of the large acre of woods where we parked the car. As we approach the car, Rick whisper yells out Glenn's name, which makes both Glenn and Michonne get up and run to us. "Oh, thank god," Glenn sighs out as he approaches us. Rick was quick to squash the inkling of relief that Glenn had by revealing our newfound problems. "Now we got a problem here. I need you to back up." the moment Merle's face comes into Glenn's sigh, his face instantly contorted into anger "What the hell is he doing here!" Michonne pulls out her Katana in an effort to protect herself, and Daryl, he's quick to begin yelling in an effort to protect his older brother. There is a gun pointed at almost everyone in the group. "are you guys always like this?" Jack mutters quietly, "Always," I reply with an eye roll.

Everyone is yelling over each other; I can barely understand one word that's coming out of anyone's mouth. "Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you," Rick scoffs, while I cross my arms over my chest, feeling absolute annoyance simmering inside me. "Hey, we both took our licks, man," Merle chuckles as his back presses against the tree behind him. "Jackass" Daryl scoffs with an eye roll. merle pushes himself off the tree. "Hey shut up!" Merle shouts back at his brother, his voice filled with pure annoyance. The brotherly squabble is quickly shut down by Rick with a loud "Enough!" but that just turns into another fight. "Hey! hey! Relax! Put that down!" Rick shouts at Michonne, who's got her Katana pointed at him. "Get that thing out of my face!" Daryl shouts, swatting at Glenn's gun.

Merle laughs. "Man, look like you've gone native, brother." Daryl turns around, his anger now fully directed at his brother. "NO more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there." Merle just has a smirk on his face, mainly just to piss Daryl off even more. "oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I got to tell you that. been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time, baby." Merle said eye's making direct contact with Michonne. my eyebrows furrow with confusion, not because of Andrea fucking my father, that was predictable, Andrea liked a man with power, but I'm confused because Andrea and Michonne had known each other. Glenn's just as confused brows furrowed as he asks "What? Andreas in Woodbury?"

"Right next to the governor," Daryl replies. Michonne takes a few steps forward, pointing her Katana in front of her once again, with the intention of hurting someone. "I told you to drop that!" Rick shouts, lunging forward, making Michonne lower it once again. Michonne has a blank expression on her face as Rick asks, "You know Andrea?" her eyes don't make contact with Rick, instead settling for somewhere right behind him.

Rick doesn't take her silence for an answer, so he gets closer, and his voice drops to a low, sinister whisper, "Hey, do you know Andrea?" he asks once again. She doesn't answer, letting Merle answer for her. "Yep, she does," he says, a smirk displayed on his lips. "Her and blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up in the forest. Mm-mmm-mmm." Rick has a look of betrayal on his face as Merle continues to reveal more and more of Michonne's secrets. "Yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept them in chains."

What. The. fuck? two pet walkers! "kinda ironic now that I think about it." Daryl is done with Merle's mouth. Daryl quickly spins around shouting "Shut up, bro!" Merle laughs, obviously finding Daryl's anger hilarious "Hey, man, we snagged them out of the woods. Andrea was close to dyin'."

"Is that why she's with him?"

Merle nods. "Yeah. Snug as two little bugs. So, what ya gonna do now, sheriff, huh? Surrounded by a bunch of liars, thugs, and cowards." Merle says, just poking and prodding at Rick, trying to get a reaction out of him. And a reaction is what he got; Rick turns his head, commanding Merle to "shut up!" Merle, being Merle, doesn't comply and continues his antics. Merle chuckles. "Oh, man, look at this. Pathetic!" he shakes his head in faux shame. "All these guns and no bullets in them."

Merles once again got on his brother's last nerve. "Merle! shut up!" Daryl growls, leaning forward a bit, trying to intimidate his older brother. Merle doesn't take that and begins to shout, "Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies you roll-" Merle isn't even able to finish his last sentence before Rick quickly strikes him in the back of the head with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground unconscious with a thud. "Asshole."

-

We're all gathered around in the middle of the road, leaving Jack sat on the side of the road, feeling he had no place in the conversation, and Merle still in the woods. Daryl's trying to propose that Merle comes with us, but Rick's not so sure, feeling it will just cause trouble. "It won't work," Rick sighs. Daryl still tries his best to convince Rick, though "it's gotta" I'm not on either side. I know Merle is nothing but trouble. I've known that since the moment I met him. But I also know that Daryl has beaten himself up over losing his brother for the past year. I know having his brother with our group again would make him happy. I want Daryl to be happy, I really do, but Merle has already caused so much trouble for our group. Hell, he kidnapped and almost killed Glenn and Maggie.

"it'll stir things up," Rick argues. I know he's right. Having Glenn and Merle under the same roof probably won't end up well. Glenn was already so pissed off; it wouldn't be right to make Glenn and Maggie feel more unsafe than they already did. "Look, the governor is probably on the way to the prison right now. merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle," Merle did already know a bunch about Phillip, but who says he's even gonna help up, all he did back at the quarry was fuck around and start unnecessary fights with Shane.

"I'm not havin' him at the prison,"

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol, Beth, or hell, Casey?" Glenn asks. thinking about it, I don't want Merle Dixon anywhere near Casey. I know Merle is Daryl's brother and all, but he should really think about this. I was barely comfortable being within 5 feet of Merle myself let alone my 5-year-old. he has to start thinking about the bigger picture, he has to start thinking about how this could affect Casey, Carl, and the baby. Daryl grunts before muttering, "he ain't a rapist." He wasn't a rapist, but he sure did make me more than uncomfortable on multiple occasions. Look at him, the way he talked, the men he hung out with; would he really want that kind of person around the children?

"Well, his buddy is." Daryl was still trying to plead Merle's case. "They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night," I sigh, arms crossing over my chest "C'mon D you know how Merle is, do you really want that around case?" he huffs, trying not to make eye contact as a look of betrayal spreads across his face.

"There's no way Merles gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats," Rick says. I know Rick doesn't want to piss Daryl off, but he also wants everyone in our group to feel safe. "So, yer gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" Rick shakes his head, saying "She's not coming back. " 

"she's not in a state to be on her own" Maggie argues. Maggie and Glenn continue to try and plead Michonne's case. "She did bring you guys to us" Glenn whispers, in a way he's right. Michonne had helped us, but she's already practically gone rogue pointing that damn katana at people. we just don't know what she's capable of yet. "And then ditched us" rick argues, head turning towards Glenn. "at least let my dad stitch her up" Maggie begs, we can't just leave her out for dead, we should at least let Hershel check her out, so she's has the best chance of survival out there, it just the right thing to do. "She's too unpredictable." She's a loose cannon, that's for sure. On one hand, she has proven herself to be beneficial to our group, but on the other hand, she has also shown us that she could be harmful to our group. She's helping us, but also going missing for a long period of time and pointing her damn Katana at us like we're the bad guys.

We're staring at Michonne. She is leaning against the side-view mirror, staring back at us, almost as if she knows we're talking about her. Scratch that, she probably does know because Rick is not trying to whisper at all. He wants her to know she's unwanted, hoping she'll take a hint and scurry off before Rick can boot her out. Daryl nods agreeing with Rick, "That's right, we don't know who she is" he mutters, but he's only agreeing with Rick right now to try to slip in a word about Merle staying with us.

"But merle, merles blood." Daryl says almost acting like we're all some big family. Deep down, I have a feeling he'd run if Merle asked him. We're not blood, I'm not his wife, Casey's not his daughter. I'm his girlfriend, barely even that sometimes, and Casey, she's a little girl who has accidentally grown too attached. The 'D' around my neck means nothing if Merle is asking for something, and I know that. I wouldn't expect him to choose me over his brother, and I know he wouldn't expect me to pick him over mine, even if it would be a difficult decision for me.

Glenn shakes his head in disgust. "No, merles your blood, my blood, my family is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison." We had no ties to Merle, no need to keep him. The only one who did was Daryl. we all know the line we're tittering on, we all know the thoughts and decisions racing through his mind. We all know he's thinking about leaving and going with Merle. that's why my eyes are burning into his with a stare begging him not to. Begging him not to make me go back without him, begging him not to make me explain why he didn't come back. "And you're part of that family, but he's not. He's not"

I can see the anger boiling in his chest, the words he's trying to fight back. "Man, ya'll don't know" We all stare at him waiting for him to say it because we know he is "Fine. we'll fend for ourselves." he finally says it, which almost sends me over the edge. I just want to scream at him. How could he just leave, leave after promising he'd come back? "that's not what I was saying," Glenn says, trying to make Daryl think about his decision. "no, him, no me." It's as simple as that. He didn't think about Casey, Carol, Beth, or hell fucking me. "Daryl, you don't have to do that"

"It was always merle an' I before this" Then he makes eye contact with me, and he sees it, the tears pooling in my eyes that I desperately try to blink back, the begging the pleading, but he doesn't care. "So, you're just gonna leave?" I ask finally breaking my silence. His eyes meet mine. "you'd do the same thing," he mutters. My brother, he wasn't like Merle. He wouldn't be booted out of the group because my brother was a good man. "What do you want me to tell Casey? you promised her you'd come back." he shrugs, almost like he doesn't care. "y/n ya gotta understand this is my brother, my blood. You'd do the same if you found yer's. I know ya would"

"My brother's dead," I say, my voice comes out bitter and harsh. Because how could he bring up my brother, who's dead? Who died trying to help me? How could he compare his racist, misogynistic, absolute scumbag brother to mine? "Then ya should understand. "my arms cross over my chest, and my face twists into a disgusted expression. I can't believe he'd just leave us like that. After everything we've been through. He said he loved me. I thought he thought more of me. I thought this was it. I thought he was going to be my husband.

Daryl starts walking, pushing past Maggie and me, muttering, "Say goodbye to yer pops for me." I spin around on my heels, facing him now rather than Glenn and Rick. I'm practically chasing after him shouting "You're seriously leaving?! After everything we've been through?!" he ignores me and just continues to walk until he gets to the trunk of the car. He opens it and begins to gather his items.

"So, this is it?" I whisper, my hands shoved in my pockets, "guess so" he mutters, my heart drops and tears begin to pool in my eyes once again. "Seriously? What about Casey?" he shrugs, not answering because he knows whatever he's going to say is just going to piss me off. "What about me D? What about us?" a tear falls down my cheek, and my hand reaches up to wipe it away. "you'll get over it," he mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. That hurt me. It felt like a stab to the gut. Did he really think I just get over him like that? He shakes his head, almost as if he was trying to ignore the tears that lined my waterline. he's trying not to care.

I've watched Daryl grow so much as a person in the last year. The man I knew yesterday was a scrap of the man I had met at that quarry. But somehow, with Merle's reappearance, he went back to the Douch bag he was. He no longer cared for Casey, Beth, or Carol. He no longer cared for me. He no longer cared about us. All the late-night conversation meant nothing, the necklace meant nothing, Casey meant nothing. "I-I love you," I whisper, hoping it would change his decision. Hoping the quiet admission of love would snap him back into reality.

"Then stop..." he mutters. His words are so bitter, so calloused they slice right through my heart, breaking it into a million pieces. "ya got whoever that guy is over there, ya got Glenn. know you'll be fuckin' one of them by the end of the week," he mutters. Hot, angry tears begin to fall down my cheeks. How could he say that? Was that really all he thought of me? A slut? Did he think I was only with him for the sex? The sex that was so far in between that I can't recall the last time we had it. Did he not notice how in love I was?

I rip the necklace from my neck and throw it at him. It hits his torso before falling to the ground with a soft thud. The silver metal glimmers in the sun staring up a simple reminder of what we were, and what we could have been. "Fuck you" is the last thing I mutter before wiping my tears and turning to walk back towards the group.

-

The ride back to the prison is a blur. I sit in the back, middle seat, with a shell-shocked look on my face. I don't want to cry, but my body wants me to cry. There's a lump in my throat and I'm desperately trying to hold back tears. The whole ride Glenn muttering quietly to me, "I'm so sorry" "I didn't think he was really going to leave" I don't pay attention to him. I can't listen, I can't pay attention. I just want to be in my head right now. I feel the car stop and feel people leave, but I don't pay it any mind. I don't even pay any mind when I hear the shouting outside. I just want this all to be over.

I'm zoned out until I feel the car park, and everyone gets out. I get out, hands shoved in my pockets. The only thing that knocks me out of my head is the feeling of two little arms wrapping around my leg. "you're back," Casey squeaks as I bend down and pick her up. Her arms wrap around my neck and her head buries itself into my shoulder. I know the inevitable question awaits us, and I still don't know what I'm going to say. When I feel her head leave my shoulder and begin looking around, my heart begins to slam against my chest. "where's Daryl?" she asks eyes still searching, "he...Daryl left"

"Did he die?" she asks, brows furrowing up as I shake my head. I'd rather he had died. It's easier to explain to her that he died rather than he decided to leave us. "No, baby. He found his brother and decided he needed to be with his family." Her brows furrow up even farther, if that's even possible. "I thought we were his family?"

-

When I get back inside, I tell Casey to stay with Carl and go up and find an empty cell. This is when I finally let myself break down. Sitting on the bed with my head in my hand, I just let go. I'm full-on ugly crying, with tears streaming down my face, and snot bubbling out of my nose. I just hate him so much for leaving. Broken sobs escape my lips as I try to keep myself as quiet as possible. I don't want anyone else to know how badly this hurt me.

My chest rises and falls fast with each gasp I take. The only thought that is racing through my mind is why would he do this? How could he do this? Did he really think that I was a slut all this time, or was it Merle's comments about Glenn, and I that suddenly had changed his opinion of Glenn and I's relationship? Did he seriously think I didn't love him?

"You, okay?" a knock on the wall pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Carol. My bottom lip wobbles as I shake my head 'no'. she lets out a sigh as she nods and slowly walks towards me. She takes a seat next to me on the bottom bunk. "You want to talk?" she asks, her arm coming to wrap around my body and pull mine close to hers. I shake my head 'no' once again. I could barely think about him without a blubbering mess, let alone talk about him to someone else.

My head buries into her chest as her left hand rubs small circles into my back. "I know, I know," she mutters as broken sobs erupt from my throat. I just hate him so much for leaving with Merle, but at the same time I want him here, and I want him to hold me. I want to hear him tell me he loves me.

-

I sat in that cell for the rest of the night, not bothering about dinner because I had already felt sick to my stomach. The only human interaction I have is with Casey at bedtime when she cuddles up next to me in the bottom bunk. I can't bring myself to touch the stuff Daryl had left behind, because I know I'll either break it or throw it at a wall.

Casey's eyes were heavy with sleep, and yawns erupted from her every few seconds. She didn't want to sleep on the top bunk. For the past few months, she only knew what it felt like to sleep between Daryl and me. There was always a warm body next to her, no matter what. I can't bring myself to think how last night was for her. Through a yawn, she whispers, "I miss Daryl" I let out a heavy sigh. In a way I miss him, I wish he hadn't made the choice he had made, I wish he would have considered how'd those decisioned would affect us. I wish I didn't have the burden of living the rest of my life wondering if he's alright, so I guess in a way I miss him.

Casey eventually drifted off to sleep, and I quietly slipped out of bed, hoping that everyone else had retired for the night. As I tiptoed down the stairs and into the dimly lit rec room, I noticed Glenn sitting at a table in the far-left corner. He was shrouded in almost complete darkness, with only his hoodie standing out in the dim light. His head faced down; one elbow propped up on the table to hold it up. "How you holdin' up?" I ask, breaking him from his thoughts. I can see him just and let out a tiny gasp. "shit" he mutters under his breath as his head snaps up to see me.

I laugh, a small smile breaking across my face. "sorry" I whisper, walking across the room to meet him at his table. "watcha doin' up so late?" I ask, sliding into the seat beside him. "can't sleep you?" he asks. I shrug, not knowing why I was still up. I felt like I could sleep for a good week if I really tried. "So...did Jack get booted out with the rest...or..." I ask referring to the commotion I had heard earlier that day involving rick. Glenn shakes his head "Nah, didn't wanna upset you anymore than you already were," he says, tiptoeing around the subject of Daryl.

I can't help but feel bad about Glenn and Maggie. Every time I see the black and blue bruises that decorated his face, I can't help but be reminded of who caused it. I hadn't thought about him in years. The only times I was reminded of the faded remembrance of his face were in old family portraits that were in boxes up in my mom's attic.

1992 or 3 maybe, I was three years old in the picture, mom was heavily pregnant, and dad looked so young. I never realized how young both my parents were when they had me until I looked at those photos. Mom looks maybe 19, dad had to be at least 21. He's got me on his hip, we're all pushed in close, one arm around a waist, Dad's face and I's squished together. We looked so happy.

When I saw his face out in the crowd, I was 12 years old again up in the attic, sorting through boxes, finding the dusty portraits. Wondering how he could leave us. I wasn't stupid. I remembered those last few months, the last year. I remembered the drinking, the fighting, the bruises. I remembered the broken potted plants I remembered my brother's broken arm. I just couldn't believe the man who wore such a bright smile could be so evil.

How could he hurt me, hurt my brother, hurt my mom? I feel like I'm sitting in my paternal grandmother's kitchen this time, maybe 15, listening to her blab on and on about his family. His wife, his daughter. His daughter he loved so dearly, the daughter who had replaced me. 'He just loves her so much,' she said 'No one can take away a father's love for their daughter'. I hadn't thought of him since that moment. After that, I gave up on having a dad. I gave up on waiting. I finally realized he just didn't love me, and I couldn't change that.

But yesterday, seeing him again was like a punch to the gut, and finding out that he was the one who hurt my friends that made me furious. I wanted to be the one to hunt him down. I wanted to be the one to kill him. I couldn't wait to see his face when he realized who I was and what I was going to do.

"Glenn, can I tell you something? But you can't get mad" his brows furrow, a sliver of a smile displaying on his lips as his mouth opens to say something. I'm quick to cut him off, finally revealing the hardest secret I've ever had to keep. "the governor is my dad" his eyes widen, and fear sets in quickly, terrified he'll hate me. "What?" he asks, it coming out as a half laugh as he stares at me. His eyes fall up and down my body, examining every single one of my facial features, finding everyone that even slightly resembled Philips. "Are you joking?" he asks, head cocking to the side in disbelief. I shake my head slowly, and he lets out a quiet "oh my god."

"I didn't even know this governor guy was him until I saw him. You're not mad, are you?" he shakes his head, letting my anxieties settle. "No..not mad, just...shocked, yo-you...wow."

Taglist

@rivversin @soul4death @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @jai-lovely @maziejay08 @oi-itse @rhaenryawhore @kimbunnysstuff @blipblopper @ramielll @ilyhannah @daryldixonnn @delicatebearpandaopera @daryldixmedown @duckybird101 @0-imjusthere-0 @tanuki-tsuki

[romanitas]

peers out into the abyss, in the year 2024. dusts off spy au tag after nine (??????) years. anyone still here?? hello. i finally bring more of it. here it is on ao3 if tumblr is rude about it.

-

It all comes out rather mechanically and professionally, but Annabeth thinks that might make it all worse.  She knows there are aspects of her life she isn’t allowed to share, and she avoids details like who exactly she works for. It’s almost like she’s giving a summarizing report to a superior, not a boyfriend. But at the look on his face as she unweaves her life, she realizes she should probably stop thinking of Percy Jackson as her boyfriend. She is an infiltrator who steamrolled her way over his life, and he watches her with a deep undercurrent of hurt and hostility.  “I was just supposed to find out more about what was happening with Jason’s dad,” she says, her voice hollow and apologetic. “With the company. I didn’t expect…” Luke and gunshots. Dragging Percy through a dangerous situation when he was only meant to be a window into information. Piper and Jason to be solid, lovely friends. Percy Jackson to arguably be the best relationship she’s ever had. 

“I’m sorry.”

Percy’s quiet. He’d stayed quiet the whole time she spoke, graciously allowed her the uninterrupted time to explain herself, even when she knew she hadn’t deserved it. Annabeth feels like she’s standing on glass, but she’s not about to make the next move. He looks at her, then looks around the room, then back at her. Percy is an unexpectedly thoughtful guy, but this level of silence churns her gut.  She swears she hears the clock ticking. “So, do you like, not even care about penguins?”

She stares at him, befuddled. “What?”  Percy crosses his arms, angrily tapping his fingers against his bicep. “That’s what you talked to me about, when we met. You asked me about penguins.”  The fact that he remembered really shouldn’t surprise her. Her face falls; her reply is haphazard. “Everybody cares about penguins.” “Good, because if you lied about penguins on top of everything else, we might really have a problem.” His tone is bitingly sarcastic, a bullet of its own kind, and she flinches, however deserved.  “I’m sorry,” she mutters, again. “Annabeth, you lied. About everything. About - about - ” He trails off and throws his hands up in the air, before grabbing his water and chugging about half to cool himself down. She doesn’t really know how much it’ll actually cool him down, but it’s his go-to.  “I was going to tell you. That’s why I wanted to meet you - before Luke showed up -” Percy glowers. “Then what? You just - you thought everything would be fine?” She shakes her head. “I didn’t know what! I just knew I had to stop lying!” “Yeah? Took you how many months?” He pauses. “Months. You’ve been pretending to date me for months.” It’s like the reality of that finally, wholly sinks in for him, and his anger flashes with heartbreak heavy enough to punch her own. She can’t even reach out to him. The urge is there, but she restrains it, knowing full well she’s lost the privilege of touching him.  “It was my job, Percy,” she says after a moment, a weak attempt at some sort of defense she knows won’t hold up.  “You’re not even an architect.” He says it like that surprises him most of all, but she supposes she had been rather passionate about it. She knows as much about design as she does intelligence. “No,” she admits, then admits something else not many people do know.  “But I almost was.” He looks at her again, with regret, anger, and even a sort of empathy she doesn’t think she deserves. “I watched you shoot someone.”  Her demeanor betrays her, as she feels her eyes well up. “I had to.” “I know,” he says quietly, frowning. He closes his eyes and turns away from her, pressing his hands against the kitchen counter and leaning against it, like somehow it’s another realization that hammers in the reality of his girlfriend. 

Annabeth uses the brief respite to furiously wipe at her eyes. She doesn’t know how to salvage this. She wants to, badly. She’s simultaneously done one of the best and worst jobs she’s ever been assigned. Discovering Luke changed the game. Falling in love with Percy altered her life entirely. 

It takes a few minutes, but Percy finally turns back around to look at her. He watches her like she’s a stranger despite the knowing flicker to his eyes. He knows a lot about her, the side of her that isn’t a spy, the side of her she sometimes wishes could be present more often. But she is a spy too, and part of the job description includes sabotage. She’s always been very good at that. She’s just never sabotaged herself before. 

“I told you I loved you,” he says, and that hurts most of all, because it sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Like he can’t believe he’d gone and fallen for her, that he played right into her hands. 

Her expression shatters. “I know,” she says, the words catching. She has to tell him now, because she doesn’t know if she’ll get another chance. It’s a ruinous confession but there’s no escaping it. “And I - I fell in love with you too, Percy. I wanted to tell you so badly.”

He looks gobsmacked. “How? When it was all just - just bullshit to you?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “No. It wasn’t. It might have started that way, but -”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Annabeth? How can I possibly know anything you say to me is going to be the truth at this point? I just watched you - watched you take on some guy, shoot him in the leg, and work with a whole team of super spies, and now you’re here trying to tell me you love me?” He almost sounds desperate to believe it himself. Like he doesn’t want to not love her. He runs a hand through his hair, and Annabeth doesn’t know what to say to any of that. “Fuck. Jason and Piper, they trusted you too.” 

“I -”

His face darkens. “I introduced you to my mom.” He whirls on her, eyes hard. “Is my mother safe?” 

Annabeth nods immediately, and the look he gives her might be the worst one yet. “I had a team check on her apartment. And someone’s watching outside, just to be sure.” 

Relief washes over him, but anger still bubbles under the surface. Maybe she never should have gone to meet Sally. Maybe this wouldn’t be happening now, because somehow it feels like Sally Jackson is one of the pieces that made everything feel more real. But that’s wishful thinking, because there was no future with Percy Jackson in the cards under the circumstances in which she first came into his life to begin with. She foolishly allowed herself to feel like maybe there could be - like the laughing and the cuddling and the smiling and the happiness that swarmed inside her could be genuine, if she let go of so many other pieces. If she stopped being a liar. 

Luke always did bring out the worst in her, but she doesn’t even know if she can wholly blame him. Percy’s reaction to the truth was doomed to exist, no matter how she admitted herself to him. Perhaps they were doomed from the start too. She knows that. She just wishes she didn’t know that. 

“It explains some things,” Percy says slowly, like he doesn’t want to say it at all. “I guess I tried to ignore them. I really wanted this to work. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Percy.” 

His face is crestfallen. “And I feel like I don’t even know who you are, Annabeth.”

He looks at her for a very, very long time. Annabeth doesn’t keep track. She’s run out of things to say, run out of excuses, run out of apologies, and Percy looks burnt out on his anger. He’s cradling it, afraid to let go, but tired of holding it. 

He deflates. “I can’t…” 

Annabeth swallows. Waiting. It feels like something of an end. 

“Get out. Just go, please.”

She does.

[blenselche]

Why do you ship finn/fern? I want to know what you see in it. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I think rare ships and why people like them are interesting.

how can i not when the show literally

ok but forreal, this is long so I'm throwing it under a cut, my fern brainworm really got away from me here...

Finn and Fern's story at its most bare bones is: someone incredibly damaged by abandonment is torn in half and those halves abandon each other. Fern does it literally, Finn more so emotionally. Only when it's too late does one half try to rectify the situation, showing unending patience and unconditional love and being met with vitriol and avoidance. And then... acceptance, and with that acceptance is the ultimate abandonment: death. Tragic, hurts just right. Add onto that-- their relationship references The Green Knight and the Narcissus Myth. The Narcissus myth comes through loudly in CAWM especially. My fav of Ovid's Metamorphoses and all Greek mythology, so that's def a factor. My dad said I cried when he read it to me for the first time lmao.

I don't ship them during/in canon. In canon all I can see is something nebulous and one sided, and we don't need to read into subtext for that, we can just appreciate the show as it's written: Finn helps create this person that 100% gets him after being the odd one out his whole life, Fern's existence even soothes his abandonment issues with a curse that binds them together forever, but he clings too close and doesn't give Fern space, reminding him of how he falls short. Ultimately this want to be "even closer" (very smooth, Finn) is what drives them apart. It's good where it is, it's a great starting point for shipping.

Where I ship them is past canon, blowing subtext up into large print font to pull Fern out of plot device hell into his own character, piggy backing off what we know about the grass demon.

The grass demon/blade was not made to serve the powers of good, but it actively changes/curbs its behavior for the approval of its hero wielder. It helps Finn with anything that deeply emotionally moves him (holding on to Martin, building the tower) keeps him out of unneeded conflict (refusing to attack the vamp king) helps impress his romantic interest (flute spell) it even reverses his arm nullification twice. The grass demon keeps him safe but it goes above and beyond its purpose for Finn's happiness. It reluctantly joins the fight against Bandit Princess because that sword is still Finn, and when its blade pierces/breaks the quillion it even cocoons the Finn Sword's essence safely away. Though, no matter how much good it might do it is still a demon. It has no morals, and doesn't understand them, all it cares about is Finn's safety and well being. When one of Finn's loved ones hurts him it doesn't hesitate to protect him, but (of course) Finn retaliates-- and so it creates a Finn of its own, one that won't hurt it for trying to keep him safe and happy. (OOPS! that backfired.) I love the grass demon, I love what we can glean about it because of its actions through the show and what that could mean for Fern and Fern's feelings surrounding Finn. This is the foundations of the ship to me.

I like to ship them when Fern remembers all of this/what he is (a demon that basically consumed half of Finn's soul), has accepted himself and has integrated his two ego states. We don't need to do any legwork on Finn's end. Dude's already weird enough about Fern canonically, but I do like to build his guilt up until he's a mess on the floor, crying over his past mistake of assuming Fern needed saving in the first place (the thing that leads Finn to ignorantly prompting/assisting in his suicide), haunted by the words of Fern's time echo from the The Beginning of The End comic, never truly being able to trust if he's actually helping someone again.

I like to play in that space of au/hc: a demon and the man he's bound to/he shares a soul with who loves him unconditionally, reunited somehow (a wish, diverging from canon, Penelope and Fern's next incarnation finding one another, etc) and coming to terms with the baggage of all the shit they inflicted on one another. Then maybe Fern can finally hear Finn out without the cloud of festering insecurity when he tells him again how he'd still like to be "even closer".

At its simplest I like finn/fern because I love Fern, and finally accepting and seeing Finn as a completely different person (enough to engage in a relationship, whether sexual/romantic/queer platonic/something that no label fits because of what they are, whatever) speaks to an ultimate form of self actualization, and Fern really deserves to feel that level of "himself" imo.

Hope that was adequately interesting.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART FIVE]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You discover Jervis has some skeletons in his closet. Perhaps literally.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) The slow burn is slow burning. She fell first, he fell harder. This part got some angst to it...the beginning of a whole mess. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Reader meeting Alice. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. Jim Gordon is STILL...Jim Gordoning. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

♫ “For you, I would cross the line.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Five minutes. Five minutes is all it takes for you to say, fuck that, I'm following them.

With Tabitha and Barbara doing god knows what, and Butch disappearing, probably to go take his anger out on some poor sap who tried to avoid tipping, you're left by yourself.

You always hated that pit of loneliness inside you. You had plenty of people in your life. Though, each one you counted, acted less like a friend, and more like a mentor of sorts. They were all either trying to parent you, or trying to guide you. Even Selina. You're a few years older than her. She still thinks she knows better then you.

Digging through your thoughts, your mind is made up. Besides, what if your dad tries something crazy on Mr. Tetch? He was ready to beat an answer out of him five minutes ago. You shudder.

Turning on your heel, you push through the people in the club. You hear the small noisy shouts of "Watch it!" and "Hey!" as you make your way out the back. You don't have the time to care right now.

You try to think about where they could be. The direction where Jervis turned. The rooftop. The balcony. It made sense in your head.

You finally hear your fathers distraught voice through the haze.

"So, what is it in Alice's blood that makes it so infectious?" He spits. "She doesn't look sick to me."

You peak through the window in the door. Watching the two standoff with one another. You're reminded of your mother telling you, you're such a curious little thing.

Then the ticking of a pocket watch makes your eyebrows furrow. You've heard that before.

"She's not sick," Jervis chimes, embittered. "She's powerful, sir."

"Powerful how?" Your father steps closer, and you watch on the edge of your seat. A pit forms in your stomach that something isn't right. "I need answers, Tetch."

"You deserve some." Jervis responds, half-heartedly, as though he really doesn't seem to care. "Do you hear my watch ticking?"

You watch in slow motion as it all falls down.

You see your father, listening, keen. You hear the ghosts of words on Jervis's tongue- speaking softly.

"It synchronizes with your heartbeat, yes?" Mr. Tetch sighs. You watch your dad zone out right before your eyes. With baited breath, you lean in closer. He's hypnotizing him. Why?

"Take out your gun and put it on the ground."

He could just be doing this to protect himself. You try to convince yourself. Dad has a reputation.

You watch as the gun clacks to the floor.

"Good," Jervis speaks, slowly. You feel your heartbeat quicken. "Now walk to the edge and climb onto the wall."

Fuck.

You're trying to comprehend the situation. You're frozen in place. There's no way your dad, or you for that matter, gets out of this alive. There's no way this is real.

This is Gotham, that voice in your head taunts. Anything's real.

You watch, as Jervis continues. With every insult, every remark, your father blindly agrees with him.

"I am going to count to ten. When I reach ten," Jervis has the gull to smirk. "You'll find everlasting peace."

Your fists clench.

"One."

You remember how your dad would come home after work on Fridays. He'd buy you pizza. Tell you to hide it from mom. It was your little secret.

"Two."

You think about how your dad looked when you told him you wanted to be just like him when you were older. Half happy. Half depressed.

"Three."

You think about how he's changed. Everything's changed. You wonder if a part of you wants him to die.

"Four."

You recount Jervis's words. He can only make a person do what they secretly wish to do. All this time, you thought you were keeping him afloat. The reason he was alive. His little girl. Were you never enough?

"Five-" Jervis begins, before a voice interrupts from behind you.

"Stop!" It's high-pitched, feminine. For a moment, you almost think you spoke. You see a woman march past you, opening the door. She ignores your presence, but offers you a scared glance. She has a gun in her hand.

You suddenly feel hot tears run down your cheeks. Were you crying?

Jervis whips his head around, and it's as though the world has been delivered to him on a silver platter. He marvels at the sight of the woman.

"Alice?" He breathes, not noticing your shaking form, still clinging to the shadows in the doorway. "Thank god! At last, I've finally found you!" You feel your eyes and throat burn, trying to keep quiet. You can't stop staring at your father hanging over the balcony.

"Tell that man to get off the ledge." She speaks, firm, but her voice breaks. So this is Alice, the woman he's been dying to find.

Between desperation and anger and anxiety you don't know if jealousy is an emotion you should be feeling right now. But it's buried deep inside the pile, beside yourself. Nothing feels right. It only makes your stomach twist more.

"Never mind him, put down the gun." Mr. Tetch puts his hand out to the gun. He reminds you of the boogieman you were scared of when you were younger.

"Mister! Get down!" The girl calls, and you feel guilty for feeling that twinge of jealousy. She's doing more to save your father than you are. The thought elicits another scared sob from you that you choke down.

"He can't hear you," Jervis assures her. His voice is gentle in comparison to what it was with your father. It's like how he was with you.

"Don't come near me." She stands, grip on the gun tightening.

"Why are you here if you don't want to talk?" There's something in his voice that breaks. It makes you hate him. Hate how much you still feel sorry for him.

The woman starts to cry, the same as you.

"Put the gun down, Alice." He urges.

"You're evil." She breathes, and you wonder if anyone's truly evil in the world. You think of your mom. You think of the man who tortured her into becoming what she is. "Leave me alone!" Alice screeches, and her grip on the gun starts to shake.

No, no, no, no. Don't you dare miss this shot. A part of you argues. A different part of you hopes she misses entirely.

"But Alice," He looks desperate. "I love you."

At those three words, the shot rings out. You close your eyes at the sound of him letting out a groan, and the bang that echoes through the balcony. You see your father loose his footing on the ledge.

Silence be damned, you think. You rush to your dad in the flurry of bullets. The woman continues to shoot at Jervis, scared out of her mind. He hurries away, heavily breathing. Before he parts, he catches your gaze. You don't make out the rest of his face. Just those dark eyes that have been haunting your dreams.

You and Alice both pull Jim back before he falls, tears staining both of your cheeks. As he steadies his footing, all you and her can do is look at one another. Your lungs frantically breathe for air.

When a moment has passed, adrenaline closing, your father looks at Alice. As though you're not even there. In a way, you don't blame him. In a different way, how could he know you didn't step in? He should be thanking god he's still alive to hug his daughter.

"Thank you." He tells her. He doesn't look at you.

The click of handcuffs is the only thing you hear as he grabs Alice's wrist.

[nycolewrites]

i'm going to delete this fucking document before i finish writing it so have what was supposed to be the intro to my pirate!zukka fic that is giving me a headache; as a treat 🥰

Everything starts on a random, unassuming, and sunny Thursday afternoon. 

He’s strolling through Caldera, hood securely pulled up over his head to avoid recognition, both by the guards who are undoubtedly looking for him and the citizens of the town. He’s supposed to be in the palace square, there’s a hanging scheduled for today, but Zuko’s never been very interested in the…fanfare of it all. The announcement of all the crimes committed, the rich and snooty cheering along as his fa—Ozai reads about their crimes and eggs the crowd on with his propensity for dramatics, the executioner lazily sharpening his axe or checking the knots on the rope—whichever form of death Lord Ozai had decided would be more befitting for that particular pirate on that particular day. 

It makes Zuko’s stomach turn, all of it, and so instead of fulfilling his duty as the future Lord of Caldera, he’s sneaking around the city in hopes of killing enough time that he won’t be back until well after the sun has gone down and the fanfare is over and he can avoid his father long enough to return to the duties he cares about doing. Like leading training for the soldiers or listening to the troubles of the town’s residents.

Or, if he’s feeling dangerous, fantasize about sailing the open—

He doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought as something—no, someone knocks him on his ass.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, dude.” Zuko feels his hood slip off of his head as he falls, which is almost immediately followed by low gasps and whispers around the market’s main square. He winces as he shifts on his ass, jumping back in surprise as a scarred and tan hand shoots into view. Even knowing who he is, most people wouldn’t give a second thought to helping him get off the ground, instead simply choosing to skirt around him and duck their heads lest Zuko summons his dad to make them suffer the consequences of Zuko’s own free will and clumsiness. No, he’s not bitter about it, thank you very much.

Anyway, back to his current situation. 

In front of him is an outstretched hand, and when he follows the hand up to see who it belongs to, he can’t see their face with the sun’s rays creating a halo around their head. “I promise I don’t have scurvy or anything, dude.” Zuko feel a flush spread across his cheeks, not realizing how much time has gone by, as he reaches out to grab the stranger’s hand. Since Zuko is having the worst luck of his life today, the moment he’s standing in an upright position he trips over his own feet and topples forward into the strangers chest. Zuko feels his flush deepend as the stranger catches him around the waist, causing more muttering to break out around the town square.

Azula is definitely cackling about this somewhere.

Zuko hates that he really, kinda deserves it.

When he finally musters up the courage to look up and thank the stranger—y’know, because he’s a decent human being—the words get caught in his throat. The stranger is a very handsome, yet very unassuming individual, despite his stature. He’s wearing a simple deep blue tunic that does nothing to hide the myriad of tiny scars that are littered across his collarbone and chest. He’s wearing tiny silver hoops in his ears that give off a slight glint in the sunlight, and his hair is shorn close to the scalp from his forehead down. His eyes are a beautifully deep shade of brown, that Zuko has to stop himself from drowning in.

The image of a halo around this guy’s head seems fitting in this moment, because Zuko’s almost positive he’s an angel. The stranger chuckles. “Thanks. Most people call me Sokka, though.” Oh no, he’d said that out loud. “Yeah, dude, sorry.”

Oh no.

Zuko quickly straightens his posture, using his free hand to dust off his robes. The guy—Sokka—hasn’t quite let go of his hand yet, and though it’s slightly awkward for a first meeting, he can’t say he minds the contact. Zuko clears his throat before responding, “My apologies, I am usually not so out of it.”

Sokka’s reply has an air of confidence latched onto it. “So, you’re saying I’m special.” Zuko takes a moment to answer. He takes in the broad, strong shoulders and soft way Sokka’s eyelashes splay across his cheeks when he blinks and the scar that trails from under his left eye in a diagonal down to his chin and possibly his neck. He takes in deep freckles and deep brown eyes and Zuko can’t help but be swept away.

“We just met,” Zuko replies. “I do not yet know if you deserve that title.” When Sokka smiles in response, it only serves to solidify Zuko’s thoughts. He doesn’t think he’s ever been taken quite so quickly with someone he just met. On a whim, Zuko lightly squeezes Sokka’s hand where it’s still in his grasp.

“Yet?” Sokka’s grin widens, showing off a dimple in his left cheek. Zuko wants to kiss it. “So, you wanna see me again?” 

Unfortunately, they’re knocked into by a group of kids who are likely rushing to spend their weekly allowances on dried candy and poppers. Shaken out of their bubble, Zuko takes in the side glances and whispers of those who witnessed the exchange and internally winces. He cannot let this get back to his father.

“I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry. Duty calls.” Zuko ignores the way Sokka’s eyes seem to land on the royal crest that’s embroidered into his collar where his cloak has slipped off his shoulders. Damn Ozai for branding essentially all his clothing. In a moment of boldness, he asks, “Are you from around here?” For a moment, Sokka doesn’t answer, and Zuko takes the time to mentally berate himself from acting like an idiotic teenager with their first crush.

“Not exactly,” is what comes out of Sokka’s mouth when he finally replies. There’s a glint in his eyes as he answers, something Zuko isn’t quite sure he’s understanding the meaning behind, but he ultimately decides to ignore it. “Tonight’s my last night in town. Y’know, duty calls.” He says, resting his hand lightly on the sword at his hip that Zuko had honestly failed to notice. It feels like an inside joke, the way Sokka smirks as he completes the action, but Zuko also chooses to ignore that. His father would be having a conniption if he could see how comfortable he was acting with a complete and total stranger. With a pirate. “How about you meet me at Aunt Wu’s later tonight? It’ll be my treat.”

There are shouts coming from down the street, and when Zuko turns around he can see the unmistakable figures of his father’s guards marching their way down the street in his direction. Inwardly he curses himself for getting too comfortable, forgetting that he’s literally next in line to be Lord of Caldera and yet here he is holding hands and openly flirting with a lowly commoner. He goes to turn back towards where Sokka has gone quiet behind him, but is stopped in his tracks when the man in question steps into Zuko’s space and places his lips behind the shell of Zuko’s ear.

“Sorry to cut this short, darling, but that’s my cue. Meet me at seven.” The way Sokka’s breath hits his skin gives him goosebumps, and he just barely stops himself from shivering in response. “Don’t keep me waiting, my lord, otherwise you might hurt my feelings.” And just like that, the pressure of another body along his back is gone, and when Zuko turns around to respond, Sokka is already gone, lost in the crowd of blues and browns and reds. He sighs, barely hiding his annoyance when the guards stomp up behind him.

He turns, doing his best to put the most bored expression he can manage on his face. “Did the high and mighty Fire Lord run out of executions to hand out and finally realize I was missing?” When the guards don’t respond, simply part and turn back in the direction of the palace, Zuko sighs again as he begins the trek back to what he knows is going to be an earful of bullshit.

He feels deep brown eyes on his back the entire walk back.