giovannirrobinson

[durrtydawg]

can i just say how thankful i am that you are keeping us samuel sluts WELL FED LATELY!!

And can i also please request something, anything angsty :3 i literally do not care what happens I'm just excited to see what you can provide 🥵

Thank you, kind anon. My heart is full of love from you and everyone else in my inbox (what the hell where did you all come from???) I hope this meets your expectations. It definitely made my chest tighten. Didn't specify a gender here- hope that's okay! would love to hear your thoughts bc this isn't the usual from me. big love <3

[Masterlist]

WOUNDED

Sam drake x Reader {angst one-shot}

CW: Injury, blood | 1.3k Words | Gif is absolutely unrelated I just think he's neat <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

“You’re��.we can’t go back in there.” You hunch, dumfounded, pointing towards the entrance of the mid-collapsing crypt you’d just somehow fought your way out of. You clutch the bleeding gash on your upper arm, coughing as dust continues to settle around you.

The cough sparks a pain in your torso, drawing your attention to a bloodied score in your shirt.

“We can, and we will.” Sam grumbles, teeth gritted as he removes his plaid over-shirt, knuckles coated in a thick layer of crimson.

“Come on, Sam,” you urge, raspy and desperate, chin trembling. “We should get out while we still-”

“And then what?!” He snarls in your direction. You step back in trepidation, eyes glossing over as he waits for an answer. His eyes burn into yours, and you don’t know whether to chastise yourself for being such a coward, or scream some sense into him. His newfound aggression, however, pulls you away from the latter.

Never had a job gone so horrendously wrong at the last hurdle. Months of planning and physical toil, rotted down into a husk of nothing but severe injury and anger in mere minutes.

Sam scoffs at your silence, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. The fragmented tearing of the fabric only makes you shrink further away from him.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, attempting to forego tears that threaten to spill, but the sudden sting from a freshly punched split has your cheeks dampen anyway. You wince, limping over to the wall to catch your breath and try to calm down. 

Sliding unsteadily down the wall, you land with a thud, boots forcing another cloud of dust to roll over the ground as gravel gets scuffed aside by your heel. 

The pain in your torso intensifies, and you shakily peel the torn fabric of your shirt away from your skin. It’s not good.

You watch through watery vision as Sam wraps scraps of his shirt around his bleeding knuckles, his expression stiff and unmoving from his indignant glare. His grey t-shirt clings to his torso, with help from sweat and blood that steadily grows more and more stagnant from time and exertion. His jaw is clenched so frighteningly tense that you swear you feel your own teeth ache, and oh, the anger in his eyes is horrible. You’ve never seen him so enraged- so…intoxicated by his own determination to succeed, to the point where he doesn’t seem to care whether or not you bleed out in front of him.

Does he care? Has he even noticed the extent of your injuries? You wince as the rise and fall of your chest repeatedly pushes and pulls soiled fabric from the laceration on your side. With reluctance, you press your palm against it, squeezing sore, cracked fingers around the expanding red stain on your t-shirt, and you hiss, unintentionally catching his glare.

He takes in your appearance, and it’s hard to tell if he’s more angry at you or himself. Then, he looks away. 

He fucking looks away, and you feel sick. You squeeze your eyes shut after taking an anxious glance towards your fingers. The small spaces between each are thickly oozing crimson that’d be so beautiful if it were any substance other than your own blood. God. No- you didn’t think it was this bad. 

“It’s just a graze”, you whisper to yourself. Just a graze. Your chin quivers. He’ll come around.

“Shouldn’t’a brought you.” What? Your eyes snap open in disbelief. “I shouldn’t…” You shake your head at the venomous grumble he mutters from across the room. Through a haze, you watch him smack blood and dirt-encrusted hands over pockets in search for more ammunition that you both know doesn’t exist. He grunts, loud, angry, before kicking the stone. 

You shrink back further into the wall out of a fear that you’ve never felt around Sam before, stifling a yelp of pain as your wound twists painfully under your hand.

He covers his mouth with his palm, nostrils flaring as his eyes squeeze shut- an attempt at suppressing his outburst to give way for some capacity to think. You watch on apprehensively, head throbbing as he turns back towards the crypt entrance you’ve only just managed to scramble away from, scathed, exhausted, and possibly on the brink of passing out all together. His brows shift from a tightened rage into a conflicted indecisiveness that makes your mouth go tight and dry.

It’s purgatory that you can’t afford right now.

“Sam.” You croak, trying to adjust your uncomfortable posture. “I…I can’t.”

Your lungs are suddenly under a painful pressure that you can’t shift. What would happen if he makes you go back in? Sam storming off ahead, blind-firing into mercenaries far more prepared for battle than the pair of you could ever hope to be, as you lamely hobble behind, becoming more and more lightheaded by the second. 

Your chest tightens more as you imagine him looking back at you as he ducks down behind a precariously structured pile of rubble to reload his pistol, with nothing but disappointment- no, scrap that- disgust in his eyesas you fail to keep up with him. 

You’d plead from a small but dangerous distance, crying out for him to help you get back to your feet after your inevitable fall; blood loss rendering your legs into useless jelly, bullet and stab wounds too sore to pick yourself back up again. The pain you’d feel as he mutters something towards you one last time before taking off into the gunfire smoke subduing your peripheral.

No. No! He’d never leave you behind. No matter how desperate he is to prove his worth again. No. Not your Sam. He’ll come around.

You pant through parted lips, damning your panic attack back to the confines of your stomach.

“We’re…gonna die if we go back in there.” You murmur, resting your head back against the stone wall, eyes squeezed shut as if to try and shut out the incessant pain pulsating around your body.

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

“I want to go home. Before I can’t.” You spit, causing Sam to glare in your direction. He stands slowly, taking in your weakened form. He’s trying to uphold his expression of anger, but a brief softness in his eyes fails him. You feebly grab at the wall behind you, dragging yourself halfway upright, stopping to hiss in pain. You’re lightheaded.

You collapse back onto the ground, and you feel your energy dwindle even faster.

Had you actually felt your own mortality bite at your heels this harshly before?

God, your heart is pounding, the sound beginning to echo around your head, taunting you with your own failure. Your own weakness.

He stares at you for a moment. Eventually, his eyes soften even more. 

Your brows arch slightly in hope.

Crouching in front of you, he grabs a hold of your head, taking you in for a moment before placing a soft kiss onto the bridge of your nose that twists deep into your guts more than any enemy blade ever could.

He pulls his lips away, hands still holding the sides of your face as the weight of your eyelids becomes another burden you’re trying hard to fight against. You watch his eyes flit between every feature on you, a watery glaze of his own forming as your brows twitch in defeated disbelief, and a distraught understanding, your hands growing ever wetter from your own blood.

He looks away again. Back to the tight space you just escaped from. You begin to shake your head with whatever strength you can muster.

You know what he’s about to do, and you try to pull together the will to push yourself up, but you can’t. Your body is tired. Drained.

“No.” You whisper, voice strained by the silent sob bubbling up your throat.

“I’m sorry.”

He never apologises. He never ever apologises.

You want to kick, and scream, and beg, but your mouth is tight and your lips won’t let you form words anymore.

“I… have to see this through.” He whispers. Any louder and you’ll hear that he’s crying too.

Then Sam stands, turns from you, wipes his eyes, and walks.

Knowing that you’ve both seen each other’s faces for the last time is more painful than the feeling of your life draining from you.

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[westruun]

You have given me everything.

[twice-in-a-blue-moon]

when solomon has sex with you for the first time, he makes sure to absolutely worship your body. during the first kiss scene with him, he said he's been waiting for a chance to do it. so with this, he's going to make sure his patience will pay off. not an inch of your skin will be unloved by him. it may have taken so long, but the end result will be perfect as the two of you are satisfied, love growing by the second

(Ooh, thank you for the food, anon!! Solomon's first kiss scene will forever have my heart) Reader is GN! :)

Minors DNI!

"Why don't you come just a little closer?"

You shift a little closer until there's no space between you two on the bed, and his lips are back on yours. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, softly rubbing his thumb along to solidify in his mind that you are here and that this is happening.

Somehow, miraculously, he finally got you alone...and you want him too.

Though he fears he'll get too eager and move too fast for your liking, leading to crossing a boundary or scaring you away. So, he's careful, treating you as if you were glass, slow to do anything more than kiss you like this. Truthfully, he could just do this all night and he'd still be over the moon. But he can't deny in his heart the need for more.

His hand on your jaw slowly slides down your neck, simply letting his fingertips brush against the sensitive skin. It's warm, and he can feel your pulse thrumming just beneath. He wonders how it would feel against his lips.

Solomon reluctantly pulls away from your lips, leaning down to instead kiss along the column of your neck. It elicits a soft gasp, and he feels giddy that he can get such a cute response from you. It only serves him to want to hear more. A secondary motive.

With each article of clothing he removes from your body, he falls deeper in love as he sees his person bared completely to him. It signifies the trust you've built together. And he'll do everything to never lose it - a promise he quietly makes to himself.

From your neck, he lavishes kisses along your collarbones, down both of your arms, your shallowly rising and falling chest, your soft stomach, all the way down to your naval. Any further is iffy territory and he wants explicit permission before he does anything more.

Through a husky tone, he asks, "is this okay? Can I continue?"

Your approval and reassurance are resounding. The weight of worry eases a little, but he's still tentative to continue. He wants you to feel good. He wants this first time with you to be perfect. He can't help it, he's an ancient sorcerer in love for the first time in a very long time...if ever.

So, slowly, he ventures onward to where he sees the obvious impact he's had on you tonight. His talented silver tongue makes you squirm on the bed, your hands tangling in his soft locks as his name tumbles out of your mouth like a prayer. The taste of your sweet arousal is something he fears he could get addicted to.

Solomon can feel his own arousal growing past anything he's ever experienced before. He didn't know he had the capacity to feel so needy for someone else. Good lord, just what are you doing to him?

Once he feels he's prepped and pleasured you enough with his tongue and dexterous fingers, he pulls away to finally undress and bare himself to you. His eyes shift away nervously as he feels you studying his body now. He knows his skin is marred from centuries of living; the countless pact marks, scars he doesn't remember the stories of, and burns from experiments gone wrong. He's never felt self-conscious like this before, but it's another product of what you do to him.

When you sit up on the bed, crawling to him to brush your fingers along his skin, it takes his breath away. You aren't afraid to explore him. Tracing his pact marks, kissing his imperfections, never once showing disgust like he might've thought.

No, only care.

Solomon gently chases you back down onto the bed, crawling over your excited form with smiles and giggles exchanged in the otherwise quiet room. Once again, he gets your staunch permission before continuing. And once again, you reassure him that this is what you want. Any lingering doubt subsides, and with that, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly slides in, letting you adjust once he's fully settled within you.

"D-Deus meus..."

His forehead rests against yours as his breathing turns ragged, reveling in how goddamn good you feel around him. It takes all of him to be patient, but he waits for your signal, and once he has it, he doesn't hesitate to start moving.

His hips snap against yours in deep, measured thrusts. Passionate kisses are shared, soft moans and grunts fill your ears, and his hands never once stop exploring your body. The love he gave it earlier wasn't nearly enough.

There's no rush. It's not frantic - it's not even desperate. It's slow and intimate as he guarantees you both feel good in this one moment of solitude.

Solomon isn't even thinking about afterwards or what those brothers might say. He's fully entranced by you. He makes love to you as if it's the last time he ever will.

Soon he brings you both to a mind-shattering orgasm. His body shudders above yours as he buries his face in your neck. The way you clench around him makes him consider asking for a second round. Though, he wants to take a break more - to love and care for you as needed. As carefully as he can, he pulls out, already missing being enveloped by you and your sweet body. The second his fatigued self hits the bed, you instantly cuddle up to him, locking him in place for the foreseeable future.

To say he's a little shocked is an understatement. Sure, you both just shared a moment of passion and pleasure, but there was still some part of him that wondered if you really wanted him. For you to take the initiative to cuddle up to him in the afterglow touches his heart. Solomon wraps his arms around you, humming at the shared warmth between your sweaty bodies and shielding you from the world outside of this room.

Tonight you're his. And he knows he'll always be yours.

[kimwexlersponytail]

No. No. Just tell me what I need to do to change, okay? Just tell me what it is and i'll do it. Jimmy. No, Kim. You make me happy. We make each other happy. How can that be bad? Hey... I love you. I love you, too. But so what?

McWexler in Every Season

SEASON SIX

[alzrite]

Theres something falling from the sky and its falling fast.

So, what does Jon do? He catches it. Only it is not an it that he caught but a she. And she is dripping green all over. And boy does the green sure looks like its blood with all the gashes it was oosing out of.

Jon panics and does the only thing he can think of.

"DAD!"

Superman appears beside him near insantly.

"Jon, what's-"

He stops mid question as he spots the girl in his arms.

"Let's get her somewhere safe."

[jwisun]

bf dreamies misunderstanding and thinking reader cheated on them, is mean to reader. then when they find out the truth they grovel for reader's forgiveness (if its too long for all the members can u make it for either jeno or jisung pls, but doing it for all the members would be appreciated)

angst is my SPECIALTY!! thank u anon

(gn!reader. warning for the obvious, cursing, cheating, angst, all that jazz. sfw!)

mark

renjun

jeno

haechan

jaemin

chenle

jisung

[aprilblossomgirl]

Q said there is a sad puppy here, so that’s why we came.

We Are (2024) | Ep.13

[pinkeos]

we all know jing yuan is immortal, he's lived for so long and remained as one of the key figures of the alliance. but with his long life span comes with memories that would sometimes grow hazy

however, aside from his old friends, there's one more person he'd never forget and would never allow to slip from his mind; you. his mortal lover who had passed away centuries ago

unlike him, you aged. and with age, comes with inevitable death. he could still remember how hesitant you were at first when he asked to be your lover, because you knew his life would last longer than yours, and he'd end up alone

you'd joke multiple times that he'd probably fall out of love when you start growing older, but he never did. he stayed by your side, held your hand as wrinkles slowly appeared on your skin. he still pressed kisses on your face, brushed your grey hair and reintroduced himself whenever you started forgetting who he was

he'd tell you stories of the years you spent together, all the heartwarming memories and even the disagreements you've been through. his heart still skipped a beat when your weak chuckle echoed in the bedroom, a bittersweet smile still plastered over his face when it was your turn to retell the memories you've shared

like he told you before, he still stayed by your side even when you breathed your last, his heart stabbed by a million daggers with how you tried so hard to remember him even before you left. whispering a declaration of love and his name as your eyes fluttered close

even after your death, he'd still keep you close to his heart. even death won't be able to keep you apart

he'd talk about you fondly to anyone who's willing to listen, a smile of adoration and longing very much visible on the general's lips. it doesn't matter how many years had passed, or will pass, it will always be you that occupied his heart while he waits until he reunites with you again

and by a twist of fate, his eyes met your familiar ones when his hologram came to meet the guests from the astral express

even in a different life, that smile and that presence, everything about you... it was still you

[star-centric]

A/N: this is just something random both to help me feel better and to write something since I haven’t wrote in weeks lmao- reader is gender neutral!

Chuuya loves to spoil you.

You’ve never been the one to ask for anything, and he wonders if it feeds into why he’s so ready to give you everything you want.

It could be something as small as a new book you’ve been wanting to read, or an outfit that caught your eye when you were both out on a date- you barely bat your eyes and Chuuya is already pulling you into the store, taking out his wallet.

Fancy dates at restaurants you would never dream of dining at, lavish clothes that had way too many zeros on the price tag, even flying out of Yokohama for the first time- the list goes on and on.

Chuuya senses your hesitation whenever he tries to give you gifts, and he can read you well to see why. You stress to him that he doesn’t have to do all of this, that you don’t want him to think that you’re relationship hinges on being materialistic, but he already knows. He’s not doing this because he has to, he’s doing it because he wants to. You deserve the best, and he makes it his mission to give you that.

You scold him every time he spoils you by surprise (which it’s starting to happen so much it really shouldn’t be surprising anymore), and all he does is laugh and press his lips against yours. He knows that you can get it yourself, but why when he can just get it for you now? He doesn’t have this black card for nothing, and he rather spend it all on you anyway (even if it’s on the small stuff you can get yourself).

And Chuuya knows that you appreciate it every time too.

He’ll do everything in his power to give you the world and more.

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ childhood best friend ♡︎ chan.

── .✦ the one where bang chan learns what 'home' means. #우리의_찬란한_청춘_방찬에게 #BrightestStarBangChan

✰ gn!reader, idol!chan, fluff!!!, angst 🙁, childhood best friends, long distance friendship, homesickness, hurt/comfort, ambiguous romance [pining/crushes], open ending. end notes included! ❤︎ all sfw. intentional lowercase. wc: 1,800+

🧸 childhood best friend chan who moves in next door, who came from seoul to sydney and was scared he wouldn't meet anyone his age.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is the only one to attend your birthday party. he flashes you a grin and tries to cheer you up by saying, "that just means more cake for us!"

🧸 childhood best friend chan who introduces himself as christopher— but you can call him chris, he says hastily. he knows his full name is too long. you assure him no, it's okay, you'll call him christopher. he rewards you with another one of his signature dimpled smiles. the first of many.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who spends most of his summers with you. his next door neighbor, his new best friend. he tries to teach you how to play soccer. you burn songs you think he'll like on to CDs. the two of you learn to bike down your street. see? you both still have the scars to prove it.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose fondest memories with you are set in beaches. you're both still too young to surf, so you kill your time trying to outswim each other. it's a tender rotation of portraits— hands sticky with fruit-flavored ice cream, sand in your slippers, the smell of sunscreen.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash guitar teacher. you spend one too many evenings out on his porch with his beat-up acoustic guitar. as his fingers gently guide yours over the strings, you consider romance. but for only a moment. because you'd rather have him like this than risk not having him at all.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sticks to your side at school. everyone thinks you're dating; the two of you give up on correcting peers. chan doesn't quite understand why he's so happy to have people assume, and why he's even happier to have you acquiesce.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, first, about what he plans to do. "it's just an audition," he tells you, but you already know. you already know what he's destined for, who he's going to be, as early as then.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who practices his bruno mars audition song with you over and over and over again until you forget what the original version sounds like. nowadays, whenever you hear just the way you are, it's only ever in the voice of thirteen-year-old christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who calls you up excitedly, who only says two words. "i'm in," he breathes, and there's so many things you can say in that moment. of course you are, and i never doubted you, and you're leaving me?, but instead you settle on, "i'm proud of you."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't cry at the family dinner. doesn't cry at the airport. he laughs when you tear up, teases that you're being silly. think of it as summer camp, he tells you, and when he hugs you goodbye, his hands shake just a teensy bit.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who cries on the plane— because at least, there, no one who loves him will see.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash trainee who keeps in touch. he texts a lot in those first couple of years. you'd like this café. these cherry blossoms look really good. dance practice today was tiring. you learn to read between the lines; he is saying i miss you, but he cannot say the words themselves, because then it becomes real.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never misses a birthday, whether its yours or someone in your family's. shipping fees are too stressful and so he perfects the art of long-distance gift-giving. here, an 8tracks playlist. here, a digital flipbook. here, a video of him singing your favorite song.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who gets busy, who gets frustrated, who watches dozens of trainees debut before him. you try your darnedest to sympathize but there is only so much that you can know about this industry, about his lifestyle.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never blames you. how could he? he made his choice. but still. but still. there are days, weeks, months, where he forces himself to keep his distance. because this is a whole other kind of hurting— saying goodbye and knowing that the door is still left open a crack.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who watches your life in pictures, in the squares of instagram photos, the tagged posts on facebook. you graduate high school, and then uni. you work part-time jobs. you finally learn how to surf. and he is proud, and he is hurt, and he is yours, still, in ways that neither of you can comprehend.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, after being distant for what feels like forever, extends an olive branch in the form of a follow request. finstas are only just becoming a thing in his part of the world. every trainee has one. the first person he thinks to follow is you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who starts reacting to your stories, who replies every so often. your haircut looks nice and how's your mum? and wow, that part of town has changed a lot. it's all so stilted, all so polite, but he's trying, he's trying, he's trying. he needs you to see that.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finally calls you one evening to tell you everything. you are horrified by what he's gone through, by all the times he's been passed over, but chan reassures you. even as you apologize, again and again, for not knowing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, "i chose this. i want to keep choosing it. but—" a beat. then, softly, the words he's held himself back from saying. "i just miss you, that's all."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who slots right back in to your life. he's still plenty busy. at least now he knows that you're always just one message away, that you'll appreciate his updates of i met another aussie today or there's a new day6 song or i can finally stop dieting.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who excitedly tells you about 3racha. about his genius lyricist j.one and his killer rapper spearb. his own moniker is plain and simple, he says with a laugh. cb97. but it's him, it's his, it's a start.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sends you the first demo of a song he's genuinely happy to have produced. my heart is in your hands, he jokes in the e-mail subject line. j.one is good. so is spearb. but chan, cb97, your christopher, who sings "i'd like to start off this speech with a 'thank you' to everyone that helped little chris to grow up"? he's everything.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you in vague terms that he might not be reachable for some time. there's a lot of things he wants to tell you, wants to divulge. there are other people on the line, now, though, and so he holds back. you understand. you tell him you'll wait. he is so, so grateful.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is introduced as the leader of JYPE's newest boy group. he is not christopher or chris. he is chan, now. bang chan. you watch the survival show with his family. you give them a handwritten letter for him, when they go to visit him in south korea. you see him become everything he said he would be.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose hair is two-toned dirty blonde and aqua blue when he debuts with hellevator. you buy his photocard. you still have it up in your room; it makes him cringe, but he is secretly pleased that you cared enough to do such a small thing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who bears the weight of impossible expectations. leader, producer, idol. son, brother. friend. he is so many things all at once. they say he is too much. they say he is not enough. he doesn't know who to listen to.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who blames himself for things that are beyond his control. for 2019. for 2020. for 2021. for— there isn't a year where chan isn't blaming himself for something, really.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finds comfort in the smallest of things. a noisy dorm with seven other boys. the thrill of turning a note in to a living, breathing song. you. your little updates. you. your easy responses. you. your unwavering support. you, you, you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wonders often sometimes what it would have been like if he stayed.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who can see it so, so clearly. the college you would have both gone to. working at the record store; busking in the mall. summers of surf and sun. your fingers fitting in to the spaces between his.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who thinks he would have been happy with that life. happier than right now?... he's not sure. all he knows is that he would have been happy. the two of you could have been so happy.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who often sometimes feel like his youth was taken from him. his teenage years were spent as a trainee; his early twenties were spent fighting for every scrap. he doesn't regret the choices he made. he doesn't want to. he can't.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't tell you any of this. a part of him doesn't have to. you know just how much he gave up. you know just how much he gained. you know why there are certain encores that make him cry, why there are songs he can't bear to perform live. why it's always so hard for him to name 'home' nowadays—

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wants to believe that 'home' means sydney. who, to make things easier, says 'home' is seoul. who will sometimes say that 'home' is STAY, 'home' is stray kids. who knows, deep down, that home is a three-letter word of y-o-u.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, when he makes his way back to sydney, is scared shitless. he's been gone for so long. it's an endless litany of 'what if's. what if berry doesn't recognize him anymore. what if all his favorite restaurants have shut down. what if you realize you don't like the person he's become. what if, what if.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is only partially reassured when he realizes there's still a spot for him at the dinner table, when his old friends don't treat him any differently, when the path to the park still feels familiar.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who realizes that all of his worries are unfounded when you greet him with "long time no see, christopher." not chan. not chris. christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who smiles the same way that he had when he first met you. all bright eyes and dimples.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who holds out his hand, waiting to see if you'll take it.

✰ i think a lot about a line in The Myth of Sisyphus, where it goes something along the lines of "one must imagine sisyphus happy." in some way, this is me #coping (lol). one must imagine bang chan happy. because maaan, does he deserve it. happy birthday, chris.

[somewillwin]

Damn I had too! AJJSJSJJS I love them so much. 🫠🫠🫠🫠

[technically-human]

You, the one I left behind

[leviraaaaaa]

𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭

𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵e𝘭𝘭

Levi let out a sigh of relief the moment your silhouette appeared through the shadows, tensed shoulders relaxing. He turned his head, all focus shifting instantly to you.

“You.” He exhaled, a hint of exasperation in his tone, indicating that the little time spent without your absence had not been very fun. “Where have you been?”

“Hi. Went to scout.” You answered, reaching the little campfire to stand beside Levi. All your friends sat circling it. Levi’s subtle, not very subtle eagerness at your arrival seemed to have triggered something, making the already guffawing crowd of people laugh even harder. Concluded with Levi’s sour face, it wasn’t very hard to guess what the subject of amusement must have been.

“Oh, are we bullying Levi again?” You beamed, nudging Levi’s leg with your foot, signaling him to give you space. “Scoot over. I want to join too.”

Levi shot a glare, but shifted to let you sit beside him. As another wave of laugher sparked through your friends, you plopped down on the grass, folding your legs. It was a chilly night, and everyone wanted to stay near the fire, therefore, the circle was so tightly formed around the fire, you could barely squeeze yourself between Levi and Nifa.

“Sit on my lap, why don’t you?” Levi grumbled, scowling and squirming a little at the close contact.

“What? It’s cold. And you’re warm.” You said as you sat down. “What are you so pissy for anyways?” You pressed yourself tighter, curling yourself up against him, uncaring of the poisonous gaze. You’ve learnt a long ago, half of Levi's words didn’t mean shit, that if he actually was uncomfortable, you wouldn’t even be here right now, he would’ve broken a bone or two. Levi’s personal space wasn’t something he let anyone come through, but you’ve been an exception for that for a long time.

And he was warm. A warmth that surprisingly only the cold, cold man was capable of.

And as always, the low protest died soon and he adjusted to let you lean against him.

“Hange.” He muttered, answering your previous question. “They’re trying to convince people to marry me.”

“Wonderful.” You grinned, “I volunteer.”

“I hate you.”

Cue for a very drunk Hange cracking up again, leading the others to join in. Even Erwin, ever regal and solemn, couldn’t seem to be able to hold the small smile from forming. With Hange’s contagious laughter and Levi’s scowl, it was impossible to.

“Oh why’d you let Hange drink again?” You laughed, watching them as Moblit struggled, trying to pry the bottle out of the section commander's grasp. “They're gonna be terrible to deal with tomorrow.”

“They insisted it was one sip.” Erwin said solemnly.

“Well, that sure seems like one sip.”

“But seriously though,” Nanaba piped in, shoulders still shaking with the waves of laughter. “Levi’s got all that spunk, but no bitches.”

“Stubborn shortie-” Hange's voice was cut of as they hiccupped

“Shut up. All of you. Please.” Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “

“Point stands. In your mid-thirties, Levi. How long are you going to wait?”

“Why,” He huffed. “Are you people so insistent on analyzing my personal life every damn time? Do you not have anything better to do?”

“Only well wishers.” She gave him a smug smile. “That’s what friends do, they care for each other.”

“No. You just want to give me shit.”

“Well, that too.” She shrugged.

“Iffff—if anything,” Hange stumbled in, rubbing their eyes. She glanced at you pointedly. “You could at least date her. That’d be nice.”

“So I keep telling him.” You feigned a disappointed sigh.

“Don’t fucking egg them on.” He hissed, face heating up at the suggestion. How could they even think it’d work out? He thinks, against the thoughts tugging. Ridiculous. They were ridiculous. You were just as ridiculous. So what does he do with this ridiculous fucking feelin–

“Oh but look,” Hange leaned forward, squinting to watch the two of you, their glasses reflecting off the fire and casting shadows on their face. “ Do mine eyes deceive me or is Ackerman over there blushing?”

“No.” The denial was quick. A little too quick.

“I confirm.” Nanaba smirked. Miche grunted.

“No.”

“Oh, Levi.” Erwin’s eyes glimmered amusement.

“I will hit you. Don’t even go there.”

The roar of laughter only grew louder.

And the night rolled on, the nonsense bickerings and banters continued. Friendly faces and friendly voices, joking and teasing and laughing without a care in the world. Bottles clinked, the firelight glinting on them. At one point, you and Hange started singing some stupid song you’ve heard in the fair, rocking back and forth with the music. And you weren’t certain, but you could swear there was a hint of melody even in the wind blowing by. And it was cold, but with Levi beside you, you were okay. But that was okay, it was okay. More than okay, really. The happiness was overwhelming.

.

“You know,” Hange called out suddenly. They had taken to fully sprawl out on the grass. They’d been quiet a while, and you had thought they must’ve passed out, but appears not.

Everyone turned to look at them.

“This is nice isn’t it?” They mumbled, blinking up to the sky. “I mean, sure, we might die tomorrow, but this is nice. I wouldn’t really mind dying.”

“You know, what would’ve been nice, Hange?” Nanaba said, watching Hange. And despite the words itself, she was smiling. “To not mention death.”

“I know but,” Hange sat up, grinning. “This is not too bad as a last night of your life right? I wouldn’t mind.”

And for a second, no one spoke. Perhaps, it was because all were drunk more or less but that hit harder in that moment. Unsaid words were spoken in silence, the wind carrying the oaths away. And even Levi’s eyes had softened.

Only Hange could say words like that with that face, you thought. You weren’t sad, not really. Because Hange was right. Being a scout meant learning to appreciate every breath you can take, and nights like this were as good as they’d come.

“Aww Hange.” You sighed, grinning back. “Cheesy much? You’re making Levi all squirmy.”

“No, I am not—” Levi’s protests were buried as the group jumped in yet again another session of Levi leg-pulling.

But despite it all, Levi thought.

Pissheads, all of them were. But nevertheless.

He watched you with the corner of his eyes, watching you as you laughed your head off to something Eld said, shoulders shaking, the firelight making your eyes glitter. And you were so close, so close, he could hardly breathe. And the urge to wrap an arm around you, to pull you closer. To feel you against him.Would that be so wrong of him? If he leaned close, would you pull away? But it’s okay, he thinks.

Hange was right.

It’s okay if he dies tomorrow. He wouldn’t really mind.

He didn’t really mind right now either.

He finds it strange that he didn’t really mind it. Any of it.

He didn’t mind Hange or Nanaba or any of them.

He didn’t mind your stupid little jokes, clearly made with the intention to piss him off. He didn’t really mind that you were so close. He didn’t mind that your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind a lot of things that he thinks he would’ve minded if it was anyone else but you.

He doesn’t really know how it works. He doesn’t like thinking about the strange little feelings in his heart that tugged everytime you smiled, or the way his stomach tightened whenever you flirted with him so casually.

And maybe one day he’ll tell you. Maybe he won’t

Does it matter? Is it not enough to only have you alive and close?

He’s here now. With everyone and with you.

He’s home.

[princesssmars]

just thinking of softly reconnecting with vi after so many years apart :c

let’s say after the explosion happened you had stuck together with ekko, helping him build and nurture the firelights from the ground up into the thriving community it is today. after coming to terms with what you’d lost and possibly losing jinx sooner or later, you saw ekko as the only family you had left and trusted him more than any one or anything.

which is why she when he gets back from some secretive day trip he’d gone out on he brings you with him to see what he’d found - who he had found.

for the first few seconds you thought she was a ghost, a cruel trick your mind was playing on you by projecting your fears of being scared for ekko into your dead best friend, more than your friend, into what she’d look like today if she was still by your side. if everything that had happened simply didn’t.

but before you can react she’s slipping out of her cuffs (you’d always told ekko that he never fastened them tight enough for zaunites) and lifting you in her arms,your brain catching up and getting out all the buried emotions in the force of your hug.

once you both calm down she explains everything, always so open to you, how she had been taken and thrown in still water for years and had gotten out just less than a day ago, she’d never leave you and ekko and jin powder behind, not even to save her own skin from the destruction of that day.

and as much as the explanation calmed you you knew and reassured her you didn’t need it, taking her hand in yours and pressing it to your chest, heart swelling at the tears appearing at the corners of her eyes.

she and her companion are given only a few days to rest and heal with the firelight’s before they need to return some weird important blue gem they’d found, but until then you don’t leave vi’s side. you show her around the base, make sure she’s eating an actual meal for the first time in years, and that she’s not straining her injury whether she’d gotten it healed by shimmer or not.

by the time night falls you can slowly but surely see the energy coming back to her body. well, spiritually, not physically. you show her to one of the spare quarters for new firelights. you don't have a choice but to join her when her hand tightens around your wrist and drags you in with her, plopping the both of you on the plush of the bed.

its cute how she almost seems to melt into it, lashes fluttering and looking on the near brink of sleep in only five seconds before your giggling brings her back, reluctantly moving so that you can scoot into bed behind her.

you can tell she’s still on edge when you gently place your hand on her head, taking care to use gentle movements as you move her to lie on top of you so you don’t disturb her. you can see the scars on her back peeking out from under her shirt and it takes everything in you to blink away the tears forming. there was a time when vi would initiate affection with you so earnestly, wrapping you and her other loved ones into her arms until your stomach felt like it'd burst from love. and now she was rigid at you softly brushing her hair.

clearly, your silence and reluctance make it obvious why you’re being so delicate because she gives a brief explanation of what happened to her in stillwater, her breath quietly hitching in parts where she can't hide how deeply what happened affected her. by the time she's done you can feel stray tears falling down your face, hands trembling as you hug her ever closer to you.

she buries herself impossibly closer to you, lashes tickling your chest as she press her lips to your sternum in an act so desperate you think calling it a kiss is a disservice. you can feel her relax as you start to brush her hair and talk to her aimlessly, about all of the things she's missed, things you cant wait to show her now that she's back.

it's the best night's sleep she had in years.