#what happened in the recording booth probably:

[mrs-gauche]

It's so funny to me how we all remember this iconic line mostly for its delivery, while German and French even try to avoid using the word, meanwhile English just gets straight to the point, like

German: .....the lust......

French: .....the desire......

English: SEX. I'm talking about SEX.

And while we're at it, do you think that line was also on his mind when he was smiling at that poor guy who was tied to Celene's bed? lol

"Ah yes, just like the good old days..."

You know, now that I think about it, Solas had no right to kinkshame the Inquisitor like that. lmaoo

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LOVE ME BACK sakura miyawaki x reader

❀ sakura having the biggest crush on yn for five minutes (and yn knowing it) 875k views

↳ warnings: nothing just sakura being down bad also yn is a 00 liner

➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼

yn adjusted her cap and her loose flannel as she stared at sakura through the glass and then at camera, laughing, “okay, do you wanna try this again?”

it was obvious that sakura was visibly flustered under yn’s gaze and nervously adjusted the headphones on her head, “why do you have to do this again?”

“because im the writer, producer and composer of this song.” yn says like its the most obvious thing in the world as she gives sakura a confused look, “why are you having such a hard time recording, it’s easy for you most of the time.”

sakura just laughed and shook her head at the camera that was pointed her way, how does she say that being around yn alone like this makes her extremely nervous especially since it’s in such a professional setting.

“do you wanna take a break? let’s take a break.” yn sighed pushing back her chair, “you can sit with me while I get yunjin to record her part.”

at yn’s request sakura took another look at the camera with a big smile on her face before happily walking out the booth and taking a seat beside yn as yn calls yunjin in.

➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼

“I have to film a scene with yn,” sakura whispered to the camera as the hairstylist touched up her hair, “I don’t know why but im nervous, she has to be very close to me.” sakura continues staring ahead of her where yn where yn is already ready to film, “I guess it’s time…”

sakura walked over to yn who smiled at her immediately making her insides turn into a zoo, “what should I whisper in your ear?” the girl asked walking closer to sakura who stiffened and took a side glance at the camera.

“I need u” was playing in the background as the camera man get set up which gave yn and idea a big smile spreading across her face, “I’ll whisper I need you.”

sakura’s eyes widened and takes another look at the camera and you can hear the staffs soft laughter in the background.

she silently nods her head rapidly, knowing that her voice will probably crack if she talks and gives yn a thumbs up, she could handle this.

she could not handle it.

this has got to be the girls fifth take of trying to film but sakura just can’t handle yn being so close and whispering in her ear.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” yn laughs to the camera man after sakura flinched away and tried to calm down her flustered state for the a hundredth time, “do I need to hold you down?” she asks shaking sakura’s shoulders as the girls face gets even redder.

“let’s try this again.” the director said to the girls giving a pointed look at sakura who looks away embarrassed, “yn try to do something so this doesn’t happen for the sixth time.” he orders the younger girl who nods immediately.

she gently grabs back of sakura’s neck with a slightly fi grip so the girl doesn’t flinch away before softly whispering in her ear.

sakura felt chills go through her body but it finished as quick as it started as she lets out a deep breath after yn lets go of her neck.

“was that so hard?”

➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼

yunjin and kazuha looked at the camera and the at sakura with an odd look on their faces as the Japanese girl laughs the hardest out of everyone at yn’s joke.

sakura threw her head back and leaned on yn, “oh my, yn you’re so funny.” she laughs.

“sakura unnie are you okay?” yn asks wrapping an arm around the laughing girl as yunjin looks at kazuha and does a playful eye roll causing the younger girl to laugh.

“yeah, I’m fine,” sakura sighs out before laughing again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made someone laugh this hard.” yn says to the camera as she watches sakura before turning to yunjin and kazuha who have their heads turned the other way.

➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼

“I’m bringing yn food and her phone since she forgot it.” sakura says to the camera holding up the bag, “she’s doing a photoshoot right now so I’m gonna surprise her with food.”

as sakura walks into the studio the sound of cameras clicking immediately fills the room as the camera turns away from sakura to yn who’s laying down on a couch with a calvin klein set on posing for the camera before turning back to sakura whose face is visibly red.

“she looks good right?” she says to the camera laughing nervously as the camera man instructs yn to pull the jeans lower to show the ck logo.

let’s go wait over there,” sakura says pointing towards the seating area, “I wasn’t expecting her to be taking photos I thought she’d be on break already.” sakura rambles taking a peek at where yn is every once and a while.

“I can’t wait for the photos to come out.” she says causing the staff behind the camera to laugh.

➩ CLIP #5 PLAYING… 📼

yn and sakura stood together airport, things were taking extra long since their was something wrong with chaewon’s passport that they were trying to figure out.

the girls talked for a while, even waving at fancams as they waited until yn started getting tired.

yn leaned into sakura chest and wrapped both of sakura’s her arms around herself, while sakura cleared her throat before looking behind her at the fansite with her face red giving it an awkward nod.

[beforeimdeceased]

IM SO HOOKED ON CRYBABY I NEED MORE OMG

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT6

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: you’ve had enough at this point.

a/n: the next chapter is already in the works and guys…things get so… like there’s no going back i think this is the end point 😭

i don’t care if it hurts

masterlist.

no one can get a word in before jesse breaks up the fight. “we go on in two minutes. get it together. fucking get cleaned up.” he pulls at ellie.

you’re baffled, really. such a silly word but it’s the only one you can use. abby never really got into fights, that you’d known of. she was one of your best friends. and you never had the heart to tell her about what ellie had done, so how did she figure everything out? why are you spiraling? ellie probably said or did something to get herself punched. maybe this has nothing to do with you?

“and i’m very excited to introduce our next performers. watching them go from garages, to performing on stages, to signing record deals has been a beautiful journey. i’m happy to say i’ve been here since the beginning. now please make some noise for, seattle revival!”

you and abby are sat backstage as you dress her wounds. you wait to hear a familiar string of notes from jesse as he starts their first song, but you’re surprised by ellie’s voice on the mic.

“guys i just want to start the show off by apologizing to someone very near a dear to me. a very special person in my life who i’ve hurt—“

“we love you ellie!”

“aww i love you too. i want to say i’m sorry to her because i did some really fucked up shit in the past and i hope that she can forgive me and that we can move past it.”

the crowd cheers.

“and go back to being lovey dovey girlfriends. please forgive me babe. it’ll never happen again.”

abby’s mouth falls so far to the ground you could stick your fist in it. her face has never turned red faster. “what the fuck is she talking about? you guys were—are dating?”

you frantically shake your head. “no abby she’s lying. i don’t know what she’s gaining from it either. i think we should go now.”

“and this next song is dedicated to her—“ she points to you, an employee tugs at you to make you more visible, pulling you to the stage. a spotlight falls on you. everybody’s phone is up. everybody’s flash is on. here come the waterworks, fuck. didn’t you say you weren’t gonna cry today?

and then a familiar string of notes plays. jesse and dina catch on quickly, and your heart seeps. there was no way she was playing this song right now.

“when you were here before.”

you’re taken back to that first rehearsal. stuffed in jesse’s parents garage on a gloomy day. you were sitting on a scratched up couch, petting his cat. ellie looked over to you with a smile on her face. “you listen to a lot of music?”

you nod. “i love music. i was honestly so excited to hear you guys are starting a band. i’ll be your first groupie! handmade merch and everything.”

she laughs before whispering something to jesse and dina, then returning to the mic. “we’re gonna dedicate this one to our first groupie.”

“couldn’t look you in the eyes.”

dina and jesse slipped off after that practice and you knew they’d gone to go fuck somewhere, so you stayed with ellie. “they have no idea how to be discreet about it.” you laugh. she shrugs. “good on them, atleast i’m not alone dealing with it anymore.”

she’d convinced you to grab icecream with her. nestled in the booth of the old restaurant over an icecream sundae. soft music playing from its speakers. it was nearly empty, and it had started to rain outside.

“so how long have you known jesse and dina?” you ask, dipping a spoon in your side of the sweet treat. she grabs a cherry from the top, popping it into her mouth. “since we were kids in highschool. those are my best friends. i’m excited to be starting a band with them, and i’m glad i got to meet you.”

you blush.

you’re crying now. onstage, you’re crying. you can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks and underneath your chin. you wipe at them but they just won’t go away. she was so sweet to you a couple years ago. she was the sweetest person you’d ever met. how could you even compare the person singing to you now, and the person you’d met back then?

then you get a glimpse of her. it’s in her eyes. you’re flashing back between that memory and now. her hand in yours, running through the rain. catching the bus back to jesse’s. staying up and watching movies all night. waking up the next day to the lovebirds apologizing, while you and ellie laugh about it so hard your stomachs started to ache.

and you’re conflicted because this is the same ellie that got drunk at a party and threw up all over you. twice. then the next day said, “atleast it was better than what you’d been wearing.” jesus, she was addicting. she’d hooked you in and completely destroyed you. your self esteem. and now she was trying to play nice?

out of the corner of your eye, before you can catch it, abby is walking onstage. she takes a moment to look at you, tears streaming down your face, and decides to turn around. she walks away and it takes you a minute to follow behind. calling for her. begging her to come back.

“abby stop. where are you going?”

“no, just stop. you’re pathetic. why do you take the shit she does? don’t you have any respect for yourself?”

you’ve never heard her speaking to you this way. between your head rushing from the crying and the whiplash you’re getting from her harsh words, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “i don’t just take it abby. how do you even know about that stuff—“

“because jesse and dina told me! i’m supposed to be your best fucking friend but you can’t even communicate the simplest of things. the things i know are hurting you inside. i was gonna— never mind. fucking forget it.”

and then she walks away, disappearing into a hallway. fading away slowly like a ghost. body blurred from your tears. you feel your feet get weak first, then you drop to your knees and onto the ground. huddling within yourself. letting all your tears fall.

the “seattle revival’s last show after party” is one you refused to miss. with everything happening between abby and ellie, you were more than prepared to let it all go. to get drunk or high or whatever the fuck, and stop feeling. this very thought picked you up off that floor, and led you to the dressing rooms. you enjoyed the rest of the show from there, wiping at your face so hard you felt like it would bruise.

when the band found their way into the dressing room, dina and jesse rushed over to comfort you. “i swear i’d bash her head in if it didn’t interfere with the tour. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t be apologizing for her but it’s the only way you’ll get a real one. i’m sorry.”

you had sat with the pain for long enough. you’d cried enough. you didn’t know where abby was or why she said what she did but it was your breaking point. if you were a house, she had pulled a loose brick. making everything collapse within itself. and tumble over everyone else in its path. you felt like…ellie. the world had darkened. the small light, the tiny bits of happiness in you, had melted away. you didn’t care anymore.

you get up to face ellie, her smile fading when her eyes meet yours. everything had left them. all that purity. all that love, was gone.

“honestly i’m over it. let’s go to the after party.”

[meiiie]

dave lizewski, i’m so into you. (pt. 2)

summary: you say something unexpected about Kick-Ass while discussing with your friends which hero you prefer the most.. Kick-Ass? Or Red Mist? little did Dave know or so you thought, you knew it was him all along..

a/n: i have an OC named Melilah who will be your best friend in this imagine, this only has fluff and comedy, there are some inappropriate jokes, and thats it i think! i also didn't proofread this so like... yeah happy reading :)

(pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader) link to pt. 1

word count: 1.6k

now playing: boyfriend (with Social House)

♫ 'Cause I know we be so complicated But we be so smitten, it's crazy I can't have what I want, but neither can you ♫

the lyrics echoing throughout the store,

“well- for one i think Kickass is wayy cuter, i’d fuck his brains out if i got the chance.” you say out of your thoughts completely regretting saying the said statement- “Really?” Dave says out of nowhere, observing the conversation from behind your booth.

♫ But you ain't my boyfriend (Boyfriend) And I ain't your girlfriend (Girlfriend) But you don't want me to touch nobody else (Nobody) Baby, we ain't gotta tell nobody ♫

“okay wrap it up you two.” Todd interrupts

you really didn't know what to do at that point, i mean- what else would you do?

Dave takes a seat beside you—you think to yourself, 'ah, so this is what Todd and Marty were planning…' ...not knowing your best friend was in on it too

Melilah was rambling something about Red Mist to Todd and Marty, you couldn't care less since it wasn't about Kick-Ass “what you said, did you mean it?” Dave asking you, you almost break your neck by looking at him “wait- what yes what no, huh?”

Dave tilts his head looking confused at your reply, chuckling a bit “well, maybe, i guess? i mean, who wouldn't want to…?” you say nervously, your palms and toes are practically sweating at his question

“so, uh is that why you've been avoiding me these past few days? because you find Kick-Ass more attractive than me?” smirking in attempt to tease you, but you didn't take the hint, and instead you fumble on your words by saying “no- you are very attractiv- i mean, Kick-Ass is very attractive, well- not really? i keep my options open” you sigh trying to catch your breath, but Dave doesn't look the slightest upset. instead he was just looking at you in amusement, recalling the previous days.

4 days earlier

“how come nobody has ever tried to be a superhero?” Dave asks Todd and Marty sitting at the same booth spot, “boy.. i dunno! probably because it's fucking impossible, dipshit!” Marty says while Todd just laughs “what? putting a mask and helping people, how's that impossible?” Dave says trying to defend his question

“that's not superhero, though. how's that super? super's like being stronger than everybody and flying and shit. that's just hero” Todd explains

“no, it's not even hero. it's just fucking psycho.”

Dave Lizewski knew at that moment that his goal was to become the first real life superhero. as soon as Dave opened his parcel for his Kick-Ass 'superhero suit', he goes to find his first mission as a superhero, which was to fight bad guys right? haaah.... that actually didn't turn out so well- *PUNCH*

“AHHHHH” Dave screams after making 4 guys faint that were trying to beat up a guy in front of the convenience store, “what the fuck just happened.” he says assessing the situation he was just in. he looks around his surroundings and realize the amount of people recording the fight “holy shit, I DID IT!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, he just felt so unstoppab- “AHHHHHHHH” Dave screams, again but IN TERROR. he was just about to fall off a ledge, barely hanging on. who knew saving a cat would be this hard? "FUCK YOU MR. BITEY!" *THUD*

Dave hits the ground, HARD. “aggghh.. FUCK.” he checks whether his back was okay-then if his phone was fine or not. looking at his screen & it was ALMOST 7PM. “shit, it's almost past my curfew! i cannot STAND pretending to be like i'm some sort of superhero anymore.” he stomps on the ground walking fast into a dark alleyway, he notices there was someone standing beside the lamp pole but who cares. all he could think of was giving up, what kind of superhero would be able to beat up 4 guys but can't even save a CAT? he removes his mask out of frustration, partially still angry at Mr. Bitey, but then a faint gasp is heard—his eyes darting towards the pole. it was you. sounds of quick footsteps tip-tap-tip-tap quickly fading away. "WAIT!-" Dave shouts, “i- oh god..”

it was the next day in school, he already saw how the videos from the convenience store was spreading in the news, but most importantly was what did you think? "hey y/n-" you quickly pass by him in the halls, his heart stung at the sight of you trying to ignore him. during classes, he would be staring at you- like, FULL BLOWN staring at you with such sadness in his eyes. what he felt for you was different, he didn't know what it was. before you both became friends, he would always notice the little details about you during class.

you were always fidgeting with your pencil, or doodling on your notebook, the way you squint your eyes at the white board when you couldn't see what the teacher wrote, he found you so endearing. after being paired up to work on a major project for one of your classes, it was like he won the entire universe. so now seeing you ignore him made it feel like his life just crumbled apart

"are you sure this is going to work? i don't think y/n is going to fall for this, you always come to the hangouts its going to be obvious that we're lying…"

"dude, you should just talk to her and ask her whats up? what'd you even do to make her avoid you man??"

"stop it- it's, privat-"

"oh my god. they probably kissed and she ran away because Dave was a shitty kisser ohhhhh GOD. i can envision it! why did you have to do that????"

"first of all, we did not kiss. AND I AM A GOOD KISSER! i just need Melilah to convince y/n to hang out with you guys in Comic Atomics but tell her that i'm not coming, then i'll hide behind the booth then just ask her what she thinks about Kick-Ass-"

"why does it have to be specifically Kick-Ass though..?" the three of them look at Dave expecting an answer, Dave really wanted to know what you thought about him- well, about his alter ego, Kick-Ass, but you couldn't just tell your friends that was the reason

"guys... just do this... for me... as a friend.. I swear i'll pay you guys back- ANYTHING."

"anything?"

"anything."

Dave slowly watches the conversation unfold in front of him, “guys what do you think of Kickass?” Melilah asks subtly looking at Dave behind you to wonder if she's following the plan right. Todd and Marty then expressed who they liked more, which was Red Mist which lowkey made Dave sad but once he heard your reply his eyes saw stars, the whole world, the universe, his whole life was lifted- “well- for one i think Kickass is wayy cuter, i’d fuck his brains out if i got the chance.” you say, your words were ECHOING IN HIS BRAIN.... 'she... thinks... i'm cute...wait...SHE'DFUCKME?'

"Really?" he says, trying to keep his cool when in reality he was screaming internally.

during the whole hangout you could feel Dave's stares at you, grinning like he was the luckiest man alive yet you both weren't even together "jeez man stop glaring at her, you're going to make her run away again!" Melilah pointed out keeping the rest of the time there light, and your worries were all gone.

it was almost 5pm when you all said your goodbyes, "can I walk you home?" Dave asked, hoping for you to say yes "yeah, i'd like that." the walk home was silent but the silence was, comforting. "you know about it, don't you?" you pretend to look confused at his question "oh don't pretend now.." he said, you both started giggling

"well what do i know Mr. Lizewski?"

"maybe the fact that you saw me falling from a height in attempt to save a cat, perhaps?"

"oh that was you?" you jokingly say, he stopped walking in his tracks- baffled

"PFFT i was just kidding- come here" you both walk towards your house, walking at the same footstep rate. still laughing, reminiscing what happened. "for what its worth, i think it was cool that you tried saving... what's the name? Mr. Bitey? that was very brave of you" you chuckled. you both finally arrived at your front yard "well, why thank you y/n. i think it was very brave of you as well to follow the green stranger"

your laughs died down while you both looked into each other's eyes, he's admiring your features and you're admiring his. it was silent for a few seconds until he asked, "why'd you runaway? why'd you avoid me?" you didn't know what to say, while avoiding his eyes you say "i was scared, i was contemplating my.." you sigh while he looks at you with hopeful eyes. "i discovered that i like yo-" he cuts you off, feeling the warmth of his lips while he hugs your waist. you both begin to laugh again, his hands still around your waist. "i liked you ever since-" he says until you both hear your name being shouted from your house

"Y/N I KNEW IT!!! I KNEW YOU WERE ALWAYS WITH THAT PRETTY BOY!!!"

"MOM I SWEAR ITS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS!!!" you peck his cheek, you whisper a quick 'i’msointoyo- imeantalktoyoutomorrowbye' winking back at him while running back into your house "moooommm let me explain wait-"

Dave turns around, starstruck, walks away feeling fulfilled. he didn't need to become a superhero, you were already one to him

a/n: ok i kinda cringed typing the last part but i ran out of ideas 🫠 thanks for reading!

[eyelessfaces]

deft hands

poe dameron x reader

summary: poe doesn't know you have a fixation on his hands, and he must not know, but it's a secret that's harder to keep than expected.

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, oral, semi public sex, alcohol consumption

tags: gn!afab!reader, soft!dom poe, reader is touch starved asf, I wrote this for the hand kink nation I hope you're proud of me, oh yeah we're married to poe also

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this was absolutely prompted by the picture of oscar's hands we got yesterday and I'm not sorry.

also I don't write smut very often please be kind

masterlist | taglist | ao3

You had always had a weird fixation with Poe���s hands ever since you had started dating him, after you had learnt to know what he was capable of doing with them and how easily he was able to make you see stars by the only help of his deft fingers.

It was pretty inconvenient at times, because simple things made your body react at once at the mere view of his hands, and your mind easily and quickly drifted to thoughts you shouldn’t have when Poe made such casual actions that weren’t even meant to turn you on. 

Poe already really enjoyed teasing you in public, and if he ever learned that you had a thing for his hands, you would be doomed to be turned on and unable to function at all times. 

He doesn’t need to know, he must not know, or it’s a never ending game for you, a game you're bound to lose.

–Now the thing is, your fixation is even worse now that you are married. 

The gold band around his fourth finger happens to really complete his look, and the way it shines under the dim lights of the cantina and the way the warmth of the atmosphere on D’qar makes the veins on his hands slightly bulge out doesn’t leave you indifferent. 

Maybe the fact that you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks so quickly is because Poe hasn’t touched you in such a long time, his massive amount of work being the cause of your honeymoon being the last time he has actually laid those hands on you, and put his fingers in you.

That’s what you’re trying to tell yourself as Finn tears you from your thoughts when he notices you look absent, asking you if you’re okay. 

How can you be okay when your husband moves his hands around in the air as he’s talking to another pilot when all you want is for him to stick his fingers inside of you?

You nod to Finn nevertheless, trying to seem composed when truly, it’s hard to focus, even more now that you have to press your thighs together to ease out the simultaneously blessed and cursed feeling between your legs.

—

You have been behaving nicely. You have managed to tear your eyes from Poe and his fingers, and you have fully dedicated yourself and all of your attention back to Finn, Rey, and Rose. 

Wonderful, right? 

Yeah. 

It is wonderful, until while you’re taking a sip of your spotchka, your gaze catches Poe’s while he’s licking the crumbs of whatever food he has just eaten, on his fingers, a sly smile on his lips as he does so.

It’s wonderful, until you choke on your drink and it messily spills from your mouth and over the table.

If your cheeks felt hot before, they’re burning now.

You’re an incoherent mess of apologies, and you do your best to clean it all up with the pile of napkins resting on the table before exiting the booth and hurrying towards the cantina bathroom to clean the mess that you’ve made over one of your favorite shirts.

The amount of swear words spouting out of your mouth per seconds as you hastily scrub your shirt is impressive and you probably hold a new record, and you only stop when you gasp at the feeling of a hand over your hip. 

When you look up at the mirror there’s the reassuring reflection of Poe’s face, and you sigh in relief when you realize all the pressure you’ve put yourself through these past few minutes. 

You allow yourself to calm down and breathe for a second, feeling Poe’s fingers reassuringly tracing circles at either of your hips. 

You feel rather composed again, and you sigh softly as he gently leaves kisses behind your ear.

“Like my fingers that much baby?” he teasingly whispers into your ear, and his voice is dripping with lust and desire as he's now lightly nipping at the flesh of your neck.

A small whimper escapes your mouth as you feel his hand grasping your belt, and you take no time to turn around and capture his lips. 

His mouth is warm and the kiss is messy and filthy, and you bite down on his lip when he completes his task and unbuckles your belt, curling his fingers into the belt loops and tugging on them to pull you in the closest bathroom stall, pulling away from your mouth when he closes the door. 

You’re out of breath, panting, and he corners you against the wall, kissing you even harder, one hand resting at the back of your head and the other at your waist. He sighs into your mouth when you tug at his curls, and when he pulls away he still stays significantly close, your warm breaths mixing together, both of his hands trailing down your body and fumbling with your pants, his mouth then pressing kisses into your neck, his light stubble gently and pleasantly scrapping your sensitive skin.

“Can’t believe I married you unaware of this” he murmurs into your ear between kisses, the lustful tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine, a soft moan leaving your mouth when he tugs your pants down, your underwear quick to follow. Your grip on his bicep tightens when the tip of his fingers graze your slit, gathering the juices there.

“You’re so fucking wet baby” he huffs out looking down at where he's touching you, almost amazed at the way your body reacts. “Like my fingers? Want me to use them for something other than licking my fingers off when they’re dirty?” he teases with a sly smirk, looking back up at you.

“Oh shut up” you whimper, too impatient and needy to be teased, the ache between your legs throbbing in need of some attention. 

He smirks and licks his lips, nodding.

“You want me to shut up? Okay, fine” he simply says, holding his hands up in the air. You wonder what he has in mind until he drops to his knees in front of you, not caring in the slightest if the bathroom floor is dirty. His mouth immediately finds your thighs, softly kissing and biting and licking them, progressively teasing closer and closer to where you really need him, without ever truly satisfying you.

“Poe, please” the words unconsciously leave your mouth in a soft sigh, as if your needs had a mind of their own, taking over your body, exposing how impatient you are when you feel him nipping at the inside of your thigh, his teeth gently grazing the tender skin there. 

The way he runs his tongue at the inside of your thigh where he knows it tickles drives you insane, and he's well aware of it when he feels your hand bury in his curls.

You’re pretty sure he’s smirking proudly when he leaves a kiss to your heated core, and your hand immediately grips his hair tighter as his lips close around your clit.

It’s devilish, and he knows it as he sucks on the lump of nerves before changing tactics and flattening his tongue, lapping through your folds in slow and languid strokes, gathering your wetness over his tongue, the tip of it expertly curling against your clit. 

The way your head is thrown back against the wall and the way your free hand covers your mouth when he looks up at you absolutely wrecks him, and the way you clench around his finger when he slides it through your folds and pushes it inside could have made him burst right then and there if he wasn’t so focused on your pleasure.

He’s moving in shallow thrusts, and if his mouth wasn’t so busy he would laugh at the way you’re trying to thrust down on his finger, needing him to truly stick it in and stroke your walls. 

He must be in a good mood, because it doesn’t take too long for him to add a second finger and to truly pump them in and out of your dripping heat.

His tongue is still perfectly coordinated with his fingers, not losing the rhythm as he fervently laps at the nub while he slowly and tentatively strokes your walls, your soft gasps and whimpers encouraging him to wreck you even more.

If his mouth wasn’t at work it would be anyways, telling you how good you're doing, how tight you are, how sweet you taste, how good you're squeezing his fingers.

The squelching sounds are straight up embarrassing, and you truly hope no one is there in the other stalls of the bathroom, because even if you're doing your best not to moan or let any sound of the kind out by biting hard on your bottom lip, the sound of your slick ruins all your efforts. 

Poe takes a break from your clit to lovingly press kisses to your thighs, and you whimper at the loss of friction, looking down at him.

"Feels good?" he asks casually as if he wasn't currently pumping his veiny fingers in and out of you, making your slick drip down your thighs.

You nod hastily, and a loud moan erupts from your mouth when he pushes in deeper inside of you, a sly smirk on his face as he carefully observes every shifting reaction over your face, his free hand gripping your thigh and appreciating the way your muscles twitch under his ministrations. 

You're close to the edge, and he knows it, and he knows exactly what to do to push you over it. 

His mouth goes back to work and licks at the right side of your clit, where he knows you're the most sensitive, and his fingers curl into your cunt, grazing the mind nubbing spot inside of you repeatedly. 

It's only a matter of time and of repetition before he's hitting it just right, setting every single nerve of your body on fire, and you're cumming over his fingers in a silent cry, spewing profanities and moaning his name repeatedly under your breath as the dazzling feeling unfolds. 

He works you through it, lapping at your spent until you beg him to stop, too sensitive, too overwhelmed once the feeling washes away.

He catches his breath as he stands back up in front of you, depriving himself of air one last time when he kisses your lips, both of your cheeks and your forehead, before he tells you how good you were for him. 

You watch as he licks his fingers as if it's the best meal he's ever had, and you feel dizzy at the sight, but you regain consciousness when you notice something–

"Poe, your ring"

He looks down at his hand, the gold band he hadn't bothered taking off before he started touching you now gone. 

And he is equally frightened and amused when he realizes where it is.

—

feedback please I'm begging!!

masterlist | taglist | ao3

star wars taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521 @welcometostayingawake @dameronshandholder

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Eleven

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Hiiiiii, it's been a while:) Sorry, had a lot going on tbh very hectic and stressy but I had most of this written out before life got all messy and so I just tried my best to finish it! Hope you all had a happy holidays, whether you celebrated anything or just had a lovely few days, also wishing you a very happy new year!! Here's hoping it'll be a good one x Alsooo, a big thank you to @procrastinatinglikeapro who's an utter angel and without this part wouldn't have been finished!<3

Onto part eleven I suppose!

Masterlist

It’d been too long a day, though it had only just gone eleven. So Matty had decided to take a well earned break that no one else seemed to be fully aware of. He’d left George and Adam to themselves, the pair caught up in a heated discussion about a particular opening to a new song they’d been working on, and Ross was off in the booth playing something or other just to escape the rest of them. He’d had a late one the night before and was feeling the effects of it, poor prat.

Matty reckoned that he probably had a good while before Jamie strolled in though, or before George started getting aggy about the current chord progression, so he’d taken to one of the far corners of the studio to slink into the small sofa there and pull out his phone.

Messages now Squeaks I’m meant to be prepping for recording!! Stop distracting me.

Matty grinned to himself at the most recent text he’d received. They’d been at it since six this morning, but he’d yet to grow tired and so was already typing one back. 

Messages now Ditto babe So it would seem that you are the one now distracting me

He shook his head at the next reply that came through, but had to agree with her point; Adi seemed a whole lot scarier than the three twats he’d been burdened with. Even so, he couldn’t let her know that, could he? Or have the last word either. It was a matter of principle now.

See, it’d been a few weeks since that night at the club and the morning after in the quietness that was her flat- a place that still swarmed his thoughts during moments of the day when he felt his mind drift. He’d been so caught up in the moment back then, in her and in being allowed that close, that he hadn’t paid much mind to everything else. Too focused on watching, observing the way she behaved in a place so full of comfort. He only wished now that he had nosed around a bit more, her bedroom hadn’t given much away and neither had her kitchen, but those had been the only two places he’d been able to linger.

Still, afterwards he thought that the whole situation might’ve stirred things up for them, what with her dickhead of a mate and his waking up in her bed. Because most girls either fell arse over tit wanting to get into his trousers, or rather a chance in the spotlight, whilst others ran headfirst through the nearest fire exit door. 

Mouse though, she was something else.

She kept him at arm's length, that was for sure. Made it clear she had boundaries, even if she was open to a bit of harmless flirting here and there. But he’d just put that down to her being more mature than most of the women he’d met. She was also dead set on them just being mates, and he could do that, really, he could. He had tons of female friends, ‘cause why not, right? So he knew he could hold back. He could.

Saying that though, Squeaks hadn’t just stuck around for a short time to live within the confines of his fame-covered umbrella and, honest to God, it was refreshing just how much she didn’t seem to mind the headlines nor the fans that came along with him. She loved his music, yeah, she’d made that part known- or at least their older stuff, bit mean- but that was it. She asked for nothing but his company. 

And even then, that had been all down to him. He had sought her out. Not the other way around. So he was always wondering over it, over why and over her.

Usually, people like that were hard to come by these days, or were simply playing the long game. He’d seen it happen plenty times before, not just with himself, but with his parents too, and other people within the industry. It didn’t feel that way with her though. It was why he’d been so reluctant to share her anymore than he already had, ie. Jamie and now Danny too, he supposed. Although the latter hadn’t really asked much after her since their night out, on the low now that he feared Jamie was after his head. Matty couldn’t muster up any sympathy. 

And during the last few weeks, he had practically forced his way into her life even further. Too scared that if he didn’t, if he relaxed, that she would just play it safe and walk away, and he wouldn’t have that. So, they’d gone from texting at all hours of the day to phoning most nights now that he had a set routine in London for a short while. And sometimes, if he was lucky, they would facetime and he’d feel his heartbeat pick up at the sight of her tired smile.

It was nice. 

New.

Made him feel like a kid again, in truth. As though someone liked him just for being himself. His pushy, egotistical maybe, but simple self.

She’d probably rib him to bits if she could hear him now, all soppy like. But even so, he couldn’t find it in himself to take any of it back.

“Oi, loverboy! Gonna tell us what new model’s got you grinnin’ like that then?”

Matty’s head snapped up at the familiar lilt of George’s teasing voice, who was still seated in the cushy chair he’d long ago claimed but had since turned in to glance over at him.

“Nothing like that, dickhead.” And at George’s disbelieving hum, Matty rolled his eyes and tacked on, “Believe what you like, man. You finished sorting that section or not?”

George mimicked the action, though with less of his usual irritated flare, and cocked his head in the direction of his laptop. “Just about. Only gotta tune shit up now.” Then he glanced back at him, leaning in the chair with his hands linked across his front, “So are you going to finally tell us what’s had you so distracted lately? Feels like every time I see you you're glued to your phone. Not back on Twitter, are you?”

Matty glared at the mention of the app, because yes he was, but who the fuck was George to judge him for it? So he lied.

“No,” He scoffed just as his phone buzzed once more in his hand, it really was a great fucking struggle for him not to just go ahead and quickly check it. “Just scrolling. Why don’t you mind your business, egghead?”

It was a cheap shot, but all the questions had left him flustered. He was only fucking human, yeah?

“Ah, leave him be! It’s nice not to have him in my ear constantly.” Hann, the backstabbing twat, laughed and shot Matty an amused smile, as though that would lessen the blow. Matty rolled his eyes once more.

“Yeah, yeah. Can we get back to work now?”

George’s eyebrows rose a tad but he blew out a long breath and simply shrugged, “Whatever. Just let us know if it’s anything serious.”

Matty withheld the petulant urge to get all huffy with the lot of them and instead shoved his phone into his back pocket so that he could grab the neck of his guitar and not succumb to the overwhelming urge to have a peek.

Fucking overbearing glibs. Always wanting in on everything. 

Though he supposed he couldn’t blame them, not really, seeing as he’d kept them on the outskirts of his life for so long now. Always keeping secrets, that it was practically now his trade. But well, a drug addiction would do that, and it wasn’t like he could go back and alter things. 

This was a real change of pace for him, sure, but after all the crap that had come with the past year, Matty guessed that this couldn’t be easy for any of them either. It was definitely a shift.

He’d leave it. For now, at least. They could let him have this.

“Nah, nah, go and play that again.” Matty spoke up once he’d made his way back on over, listening to the loop Hann had just hit play on, “Who put that shit in? Sounds fucking awful!” And in turn, received a notebook to the head.

***

“... So yeah, Ads ended up putting the fire extinguisher to good use- our first go of it, too!” I felt the need to tack on, grinning at the very reminder of it as I filled up a pot to boil. “There was a crap ton of foam everywhere-”

“Language!” The woman admonished me from down the phone and I rolled my eyes around a faint chuckle.

“I’m twenty-three, mam! You can't scold me anymore and besides, I could have said a lot worse than crap, you know?”

She still tutted, displeased, “And what if Teddy were to hear? You wish for him to be spouting that the next time he’s at garderie?”

Shaking my head in amusement, I flicked on the hob and turned to pick the phone back up. “Nursery’s probably already heard it all.” I snorted, remembering the most recent mishap made by Teddy’s friend, Issie, when she had sworn in front of the entire school last assembly. “Anyway, he’s not even here! He’s been hypnotised by the tele.”

“I don’t think I will ever understand the charm behind that invention. It rots brains, ma mie!”

“Eh, so they claim.” I retorted with a meagre shrug whilst shuffling across the kitchen floor to find the pasta I'd left on the other counter, “But all it’s doing right now is keeping him out from under my feet whilst I make a start on tea.”

Even through the phone I could feel her exasperation.

“Et encore,” The woman stressed and I smiled mostly to myself as I propped my phone up against the wall again so that I could measure and still see her. She seemed to let the subject go though, because her next question was, “What are you making anyway?”

I told her and whilst I allowed her to direct me (and berate my cooking skills- even though I was her best student! As well as her only, I supposed) I prattled on about the rest of my day spent at the studio and then down at the shops after having picked up Teds from school. The little weirdo had tried to lure a pigeon in after us and failed helplessly. 

So it wasn’t too long before she finally interrupted my ramblings, in fact I’d almost finished with the sauce I was mixing.

“You’ve been glowing lately.” I heard her say and I grinned around the finger I had popped in my mouth, having just tasted the creamy béchamel.

“I am?”

She hummed quietly whilst I chanced a glance over at her, “Hm, it’s new, nice.”

I snorted, unsure on how to take that. “Thanks?”

My mum merely rolled her eyes mirthfully, a small smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, “Have you thought about Noël much more?”

Pursing my lips, I leant forward to check on the still boiling pasta- not long now, I deemed. “I dunno if we can make it, mam. Last time we took the boat out Teds was ill for days after and I don’t want him spending Christmas like that, especially seeing as I have to be here up until the twenty-third, the second if I keep praying!”

“Okay.”

I paused instantly and rocked back on my heels to frown at her, having expected more of an argument. “Okay? What do you mean, okay? Do you not want me home or something?”

Mam just shook her head, chuckling quietly, and I felt the crease between my brows deepen. “Non! It just means that the plane ticket I bought won’t go to waste.”

Blinking, I spluttered out, “Hang on, plane ticket?? Since when do you fly!”

“Since I realised that nearly a whole year has passed since I last saw my family! Too long, mon cœur.” She shot straight back at me and I felt myself chuckle softly at her, feeling my heart swell enough to override the evident guilt that stirred.

“I’m sorry, maman. I didn’t mean for it to be so long, just…”

“Life, mon cher, life carries on and it keeps us busy. You most of all, with your show and the baby.” She consoled, her face so full of warmth.

“Hardly a baby now.” I felt the urge to mumble but she simply waved me off.

“As well as this new glow of yours!” She added, confusing me enough to laugh a little and question what she meant. “Don’t play me for a fool, chéri, I raised you! There is someone, isn’t there?”

“Someone?” I quipped right back, very much bewildered by this whole new conversation we were now having. “What are you getting at?”

She clucked her tongue at me, as though she thought I was just playing at being dense, and so I watched on as she lifted her eyes towards the ceiling. “Someone new! A mystery man, peut être?”

I gawped, spluttered, and then shook my head, “No, non! Far from! God, can’t a girl just glow? I’m just happy, maman!”

“Ah, so I am right! You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

My mum merely laughed at my petulance in return. “You are, Souris! It’s nothing to be ashamed of, if you don’t want to tell me more then I will leave it, for now. It looks good on you though.”

“Maman.” I groaned, “You couldn’t be more wrong about this.”

“I know my own child, crois-moi.” Was all that she replied, shrugging simply whilst I stood frozen in my kitchen hundreds of miles away from her. I knew she wouldn’t budge though. “But I want to know more soon! Maybe when I visit.” She proposed.

My eyes widened and it took everything in me not to pester her any further on what the hell she’d meant by it all. Seeing someone? I mean, she was out of her mind. I hadn’t spared even a glance at anyone in that way since, well since Teddy! And she knew this.

“Now, you should probably do something about that pot, amour. It’s bubbling over.”

That was all I needed to force myself back into the present and I swore up a storm as I rushed over to save the pasta on the stove. 

–

“Did you see it? Did you see it? Did you see it?”

I reeled back at the sudden presence of an overwhelming Adi, who had shot up to greet me at the studio door as I walked in, curls bouncing every which way. I laughed, more than a little surprised by the intrusion as I attempted to step around her and get further inside. It didn’t work as well as I hoped though, seeing how she scuttled after me like a baby duckling who’d just learned to walk.

“Christ, Ads! At least lemme put my shit down.” I told her, all but skidding around the settee to throw my bag onto it. “Only just about managed to escape a Teddy Tantrum on the way in.”

Even with the mention of the almost meltdown from the monster that was my toddler she still powered on, bouncing on the balls of her feet, phone clutched tightly in the hand she held close to her chest. “But did you see it!” She pestered me, the stress and excitement of the situation evident in the pitch of her voice.

Looking at her, I knew I just had to put her out of her misery. “Yes, I saw it.” I smiled slyly, shaking my head fondly whilst I moved over towards the kitchenette. “Brew?” I wondered aloud and she shot me the most scathing look.

“Forget tea! There’s no time for tea! Are we doing it, or not?!” Adi immediately fired back, eyes now as wide as dinner plates.

I tried so hard to keep my growing grin from view, messing with the cups atop the fridge, but she was nothing if not adamant.

“Mouse!”

Breaking, I laughed at her and glanced over to where she stood an arms length away, practically ready to explode. “Why wouldn’t we be?” I asked and her mouth dropped open at the insinuation of my words and the hope she’d been attempting to hide blossomed into pure elation. 

“You’re serious? You’re not just messing with me? Because I will strangle you right here, right now!”

My eyebrows rose, but I was still grinning away. “I go down fighting, babe.”

“Don’t I know it- still have the scar from when we wrestled over who got to say the first hello to Bono!”

I grinned proudly but did remind her, “And I still have nightmares about your teeth buried in my left thigh.”

“Oi, that healed!”

I snorted, “And? The trauma didn’t.”

Adi rolled her eyes and then smiled over at me. “I can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to do this.” She breathed, watching me ever so closely now.

I shrugged, feeling a little sheepish but mostly just trying not to think about the circumstances of it all. “It’s for charity- and besides, they asked. I couldn’t say no, could I?”

A crease formed between her dark knitted brows, “You could. I know I’m excited and all but, if you’re not comfortable with it…” She trailed off and I hated seeing her all mopey and concerned, it rivalled Teddy’s best set of puppy-dog eyes. An art he’d mastered since before he’d been able to sit up on his own.

“I know.” I assured her kindly as I propped myself up against the counter, “I want to do it though, Ads. It’s for a good cause and whatnot. Plus, I’ll have you there with me and it’s not like we’ll be in front of any cameras.”

“Maybe not you, but I'm soaking it all up, babe!” Adi immediately retorted and she flicked her hair over her shoulder for dramatic effect, “A face like this was made to be seen.”

I smirked and continued with the task I’d set of refilling the kettle, “And who would I be if I denied the world that chance?”

“Exactly.” She said, then chuckled, moving across the floor to shoot two tea bags into the mugs I’d gathered. “Now, all we need to do is work out what to wear.”

“And what questions to ask! They said they’re still unsure on the lineup this year. What with it being all new and whatnot.” I mentioned, having been thinking on that specific issue since the ask had come through the previous afternoon. 

It wasn’t a huge gala type event, nothing like the Met or the Brits, but it was going to be a big showcase in the leadup to Christmas. Something that was going to help provide a lot to those who were going without this year. From what I’d gathered, there would be variety acts, musical performances, comedians, dancers and the like, and it was meant to be broadcasted across the entire country. So, to say this was a big deal for us. A radio show I’d started in my bedroom! Was a massive understatement.

“I mean, an actual red carpet, Mouse!” Adi finally squealed, letting loose all the obvious excitement she’d been holding in. “Come on, even you’ve got to be looking forward to that!”

I nudged her hip slightly as I went for the milk, silently rebuking that comment, but she just laughed in turn. “I am, to be fair. It’s going to be a whole lot different from what we’re used to though.”

Adi merely flashed me a bright eyed grin, “Exactly why we need to dress to the nines, babe! Gotta show these haughty celebs that we can roll with the likes of them.”

I cackled when she did and then shook my head, extra careful not to go spilling any of the hot tea we’d brewed as we made our way back over towards the settee. This was definitely going to be one for the books.

***

“You got all that?”

The others all gave their own variation of a confirmation to their stressy manager whilst Matty’s attention deferred, eyes jumping ever so quickly from one thing to another.

“Matty mate, you hearing me?”

A barge shook him in his stance and he turned towards Jamie and the rest of the guys with raised brows before he huffed.

“Yeah, yeah- album, smiles, don’t be a fuckhead.” He listed off, already glancing away.

Ross snorted over Jamie’s head, who in turn rolled his eyes at Matty’s blatant tone. “Don’t fuck this one up, it’ll be good for your image, alright?”

“We won’t.” Hann promised him with that gentle smile of his just as George clapped the older man’s shoulder, “Try not to have a heart attack before we make it to the end, man.”

“I’ll be fucking lucky.” Matty heard Jamie mutter under his breath just before they were herded off towards the start of the carpet where a shit ton of fans and a horde of cameras waited.

“You doing alright though?”

Matty hummed at the quiet question, dipping his chin ever so slightly. He was alright. It just felt different, being at something like this stone cold sober. It had been too long, in truth. Actually, he’d begun to wonder if he’d ever not been on something since they’d first shot up to fame and been forced to attend shit like this. He lingered on that very thought even as he replied.

“Fine, just thinking over the opening.” He clasped his hands before him to keep himself from fidgeting any more than he had been. He was always fucking doing it, drove people crazy, or so he’d been told.

“You’ll ace it.” Ross whispered to him around a conspiratorial grin, squeezing Matty’s upper arm once before they were all called into the onslaught by an usher. “Show time, boys!” He added and with it, Matty forced out a breath.

Stepping onto a carpet always felt like entering a whole other reality, whether it was a black tie event or something sweet and easy. There was just nowhere that you could possibly hide to escape the cameras or the shouts and cries of people vying for your attention. It was easy to follow their directions though, ‘Over here!’ or ‘To your left!’, but it was much harder to tune out the other shit that got thrown their way.

“Matty! Matty! How was rehab?” One shouted, “Are you lot breaking up then?” Went another. “George, where’s Charli? And the after party, what about the after party?”

Matty bared his teeth and grinned through it, knowing he’d only be making things more difficult for himself if he gave them any inclination that he’d heard, let alone a real reaction.

By the time they made it off the first half though, away from all the blinding lights and constant flashing, Matty didn’t even get a chance to regroup before he felt himself already being steered towards the next horde of press.

He dragged a helpless hand down his face, bracing himself as best he could, before dozens, if not more, interviewers came into view, all eager to get their questions in, maybe find a way to have someone slip up and earn themselves a column in some crappy rag or paper. 

Typically, he didn’t mind this part. Here he got to work his magic, charm and woo whoever it was standing behind the camera and then swiftly move on. It was everything he enjoyed in an interview; three, four questions max and then he was gone. Like smoke in the wind.

Matty smiled at the notion, then stepped up in between Hann and Ross to greet the first bloke who’d reached out for them.

Somehow he managed to persevere on through and make it nearer to the end. Normally it was there that they could evade most of the microphones stuck their way and make a swift exit into the awaiting building. But just as Matty opened his mouth to suggest it to the others, his eyes caught on something in the corner, or rather someone.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it’s been a bit mental. But it’s over now though, mate.” Matty heard one of the others say in response to him as they clapped his shoulder heartily, but they obviously hadn’t realised that he hadn’t been moaning about the whole ordeal, not even moaning at all actually. No, he’d just been fucking shocked to the core and all but rooted to the red carpet in surprise and that was all the words that he could let escape.

Before he could think to correct them, or let them know, he somehow managed to unstick his feet and start hurrying in a whole other direction. They called out when they noticed but he paid them no mind, flicking at his blazer sleeves and then wiping his hands discreetly to get rid of that clammy sheen they always managed to create whenever he was on edge.

Because how could he not be? When Mouse was standing there at the very skirtings of the crowd, just behind a staged barrier. Her of all people. And Matty couldn’t quite manage to tear his gaze away. Sights set as he bulldozed on through people to get closer and closer. 

She looked incredible. There was no denying that. Different to whatever he’d gone and made up in his head- something to do with a romantic dinner and them being all dressed up- but beautiful nonetheless. He found it difficult not to wonder over how no one else seemed to be lured towards her, how nobody else had gone over and asked why she was standing on that side of the barrier and not with the rest of this sorry lot on the carpet. Because-

Fuck, she was just stunning in that getup. Wasn't she? All red and pretty. Cheeks matching the sleek colour of her dress, smile unapologetic and wide. It was honestly so fucking hard to chance a blink let alone look away, worried she might not be there at all if he did.

She was talking with someone though, who had their back to him, eyes flickering up every now and again to check on the celebs heading their way. Actually, it was just as she did so once more that those eyes of hers spotted him through the small crowd near the edge, making her stutter in her stance and blink as though he was a mirage.

Matty grinned, unable to do much else, except manage a hurried jog the rest of the way, just needing to be near, to talk to her.

“The hell are you doing here?” Were the first words to spill from her painted lips, causing his grin to slip on into a full-on beam. 

God, she sounded so startled, so sweet. He realised then that he’d actually missed her voice- and it’d only been a day since they’d last phoned. A short thing, before she had gone and fallen asleep to his senseless prattling, leaving him to watch her for a minute, or sixteen, before he’d finally hung up.

“Me! How about you?” Matty immediately countered, shaking his head at her cheek, “You never mentioned it.”

She smiled brightly, mouth moving but unable to form any real words, before she was swiftly interrupted, “You never mentioned it?!”

Her head snapped over towards the voice’s owner as did Matty’s, and he was rather bewildered to see Adi stood there, looking lovely in a white ensemble.

“She never mentioned it??”

He blinked at Adi’s almost screech, realising then that the girl had been speaking to him, and so he nodded hurriedly in answer, still grinning away at the eccentrics. “No, she fucking didn’t! So imagine my surprise, hey?”

“You cow!” Adi tutted, elbowing Mouse who looked a tad affronted by it all. “How could you not tell him?”

“I didn’t tell anyone!” She immediately countered, rubbing at her arm, “And anyway, I didn’t know he’d be here! Why are you here?” She looked at him then, eyes narrowed and nose wrinkled in angry confusion.

Matty couldn’t stop the soft snort that escaped him whilst she merely rolled her eyes in turn.

“Fine- stupid question. But you never mentioned it either!” Was her semi-sort-of-valid retort. He hadn’t mentioned it by name, he could admit that, just that he’d be busy tonight doing crappy promo shit.

“I did!” He argued anyway, because he couldn’t not with her.

“Did not!”

“Oh, and what have we wandered into here then?” Came George’s familiar lilt just as the rest of the band’s steady presence followed behind him, “Not starting catfights already, are you?”

Matty thinned his lips into an exaggerated smile when he turned to look up at him, “Hilarious. No, as it turns out I do have mates outside of you lot.”

George feigned a look of scandal then snapped his gaze over towards where Ross and Hann were standing, “You hear that? He’s gone and made friends all on his own!” Then, being the condescending prick that he was, he reached out to ruffle Matty’s previously styled hair.

Matty was quick to smack his arm away, huffing at the thought of what storm would now surely follow when their stylist finally caught a glimpse at the pictures of him looking a state. “She’ll kill me, you dick.”

Knowing just who he was referring to, George barked out an uncaring laugh. “Oh give over, you’ll survive.” Then he appeared to remember what had brought them over in the first place, looking away he asked, “And who might you be?”

Matty’s eyes instantly tracked Mouse, who got all flustered at having everyone’s attention suddenly on her. Her cheeks flushed further and her eyes skirted everywhere but them before they finally found his, he tried to flash her an apologetic smile. Thankfully, Adi was able to save her before Matty could think of a way out of this whole shitshow.

“Adeline Wells,” She was quick to introduce, heavy gaze flitting over George’s tall form before trailing back to the two stood behind them, “We’re from Mouse On A Mic.”

Hann appeared to blink in recognition, a flash of surprise donning his usually stoic features, but it was Ross that replied, “The radio show that rinsed Matty?”

“That was you?” George piped up, eyebrows reaching his hairline as he stared down at Adi.

“No actually, that would be me.” Mouse felt the need to clear up with a strained smile, lifting her hand as though her admission hadn’t captured all of their attention. 

George’s face wrinkled further and so Matty was hasty in his move to slip in between them, closing the distance between him and Mouse so that now only the sodding barrier separated them.

“And isn’t she just lovely?” He intervened with a grin, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and settling there even though the harsh metal prodded into his hip unforgivingly. 

George frowned in confusion whilst Hann smiled politely, dipping his head in a silent hello to both of the women. Ross on the other hand was a whole other story, he just started laughing.

“Oh shit!” He called out, hand falling to the top of his stomach whilst his mouth and eyes widened in amusement, “This is her, isn’t it?”

Matty’s own eyes grew as he shot Ross a warning look, feeling Mouse tense a tad beneath him.

Adi was having none of it though, eager to know more. “What about her?” She pivoted on a sleek heel to stare the pair of them down, eyes narrowed enough to instil a bit of fear into Matty himself.

Ross raised his hands up in a way that intended he’d meant no harm by the comment, “Nothing! Well, nothing bad at least.”

Adi raised a carved brow in retort whilst Mouse just turned to glance up at him, he humoured the thought of pretending not to notice it but couldn’t bring himself to even try.

“What’s he mean? I thought we moved past all that.” She murmured to him, looking so small under him now that he fought to wave all her worries away.

“No, no we did. Ross is just being a pillock, babe. In’t that right, Ross?” Matty’s words were pointed and direct enough that when the twat looked back over at him he saw the urgent look that headed a warning. 

Ross, though, simply rolled his eyes. “Nah, I just meant, you must be the model.”

Matty swore he was slowly losing it, was he being serious?

Meanwhile it seemed that both girls had taken to just blanching at the massive muppet. “Sorry?”

George tutted, shaking his head as he finally righted himself, and put on a charming smile, “Ignore him, that one’s on me.” He admitted and was quick to continue further when his words showed no signs of reassurance, “I figured Matty had to have been speaking to someone, seeing as he’s nonstop on his phone.”

“Well, er- no, no model, just me.” Mouse replied almost sheepishly, then chuckled faintly, “Or maybe there is a model and he’s just not mentioned it.” She teased, earning a few laughs.

“As if.” Matty rolled his eyes, squeezing her arm as he somehow managed to tug her in even closer.

“And oi! You’re ten times fitter than any model Ned Flanders here could pull.” Adi said, putting her two cents in.

Mouse merely rolled her eyes, obviously used to her mate’s brashness, and Matty found himself agreeing with Adi before-

“Hang on, Ned Flanders? Bit harsh, ain’t it?”

It was either Ross or George that snorted, could’ve been Hann too actually, but Matty was too preoccupied in his bemusement to steal a glance away from a very obviously smirking Adi. 

“Nah, she’s pretty spot on there, mate.”

“No one asked.” Matty sniped back before pointing over at the girl. But before he could get another word in edgeways, Mouse was there, patting his chest softly.

“Ah, it’s alright. Could’ve been worse actually.” She smiled at him, tittering ever so slightly that he didn’t feel too disheartened by it, “And besides, Flanders was fit! Had abs and everything hidden under that jumper of his.” Mouse tried to comfort him, though it was immediately spat on by Ross’s next sentence.

“Not gonna find that here, love.”

He was just shy enough to escape Matty’s swiping hand, jumping away with a gleeful grin to hide behind Adam. The coward.

Matty didn’t find much sincerity in the rest of them as he turned to glance them over, the guys all snickering to themselves, whilst Adi gave Ross an appraising look accompanied by a mirthful grin. 

He was only soothed by the action Mouse had made, having hidden her face in his shoulder. He was so transfixed on it that he practically forgot that the rest of them were even still there, especially when she lifted her face up to flash him a happy smile.

“Abs are overrated anyway.” She whispered to him, her chin propped up on the jut of his collarbone.

His eyes danced between hers and he found himself smiling stupidly in return. It was then though, that they were interrupted, “So come on! Ask us a question then!”

Matty watched her blink and then look away, whilst he only wanted to rewind and stay there a moment longer. Instead, he found himself swallowing around the lump in his throat and following her move.

“Yeah, go on!” He heard himself say and was almost regretful when Mouse stepped away to switch their camera on, feeling the wind more forcefully now that she wasn’t shielding his side. But then she was grinning again, eyes twinkling as she peered over at him, quirking her head to direct him further into the frame.

“Alright rockstar, this had best be better than our last interview.”

And Matty could only grin as he shouldered in closer to the rest of the lads, his eyes never once leaving hers.

[taeraemisu]

sorry i’m late ; niki enhypen

synopsis ; in a world where multidimensional travel exists, niki does all he can to find reader again.

genre ; angst, modern fantasy, time travelling / multidimensional travel, lowkey inspired by howl’s moving castle but only that one specific line

pairings ; niki x reader, mentions of heeseung

word count ; 1.3k words

niki takes in a deep breath.

you can do this, he told himself. after going through numerous tests and experiments, he was finally ready to travel. there was only one goal in his mind and it was to find you.

you disappeared years ago without a trace. no body, no clues, no leads. despite everyone saying you must have just left, niki thought otherwise. he was so sure you were out there, just lost.

“are you ready?” the scientist, mr lee heeseung, asked from behind the booth. he was the one in charge for niki’s travel to the multiverse and it was also his duty that he comes back in one piece.

“remember, you have only five chances to travel in one trip. if you use your last chance to travel to a different dimension and not come back here, you will be stuck-“ mr lee warned but niki waved his hand.

he heard it countless of times, he could probably say it in his sleep. “i know, i know,” niki muttered. he took a step forward, standing in front of a blueish-purple metal box. this was how he was going to travel.

mr lee gave niki one more concerned look before pushing a few buttons, starting the travel. “your watch helps you to travel from dimension to dimension,” he shouted out, pointing at the watch that was around niki’s wrist. “you know how to use it right?”

niki nodded his head, already feeling lightheaded. after all those years, he finally got the chance to find you again.

“i cannot guarantee you will find them,” mr lee shouted but the metal box started to buzz, drowning out his voice. niki couldn’t hear him anymore, he couldn’t wait any longer.

taking one more deep breath, he reached out for the door handle and pulls back, taking a step into the box.

one step closer to finding you.

dimension one . .

niki blinked a couple of times, his head and mind going all over the place. groaning, he sat straight up. what happened?

mr lee nagged at him that the first travel was always the hardest, but niki didn’t think he would get a stabbing headache out of it. “ouch,” he groaned, looking around where he landed, processing everything.

futuristic flashing buildings were all over the place. this was definitely not his dimension. it was such a marvellous sight, niki momentarily forgot about his multidimensional-sickness and stood up. his mouth was agape, the city was so different from his home.

snapping back to reality, niki focused back to the goal in hand. finding you.

and that’s when it finally dawned on him.

how?

he didn’t think that through. groaning, niki ruffled his hair. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy but he had almost zero clue on how to find you.

he made up all sorts of ideas and plans just for this very situation, but now that he was actually in a different dimension, his mind went blank.

oh, yn, where did you go?

dimension three . .

niki got used to the whole travelling already. he has now used up his third chance to travel, having one more chance before needing to head back home.

it has been months, maybe close to a year, since he has left home just to find you. he has stayed for an average of five to six months in his previous two dimensions cause finding you was not easy.

niki found his way on finding you. he tracked down the restaurants that sold your favourite food, he asked around for you (assuming you stuck with the same name), he looked through government records just to see whether you had some sort of existence.

anything you can think of, niki has done it.

once there was clear proof you weren’t there, niki left for the next dimension.

“maybe heeseung is getting bored,” niki chuckled to himself once he found a new apartment to reside in. this current dimension wasn’t all that different from home. though, the more noticeable differences was the fact that the sky was pink and that people travelled via underwater. no cars on land, all vehicles were underwater.

“yn loved to swim, there’s no way they aren’t here,” niki mumbled once he figured out the whole transportation system.

niki couldn’t wait to see you again.

dimension six . .

it has been almost three years since niki started his travel to find you.

more than seven years if you count when you first went missing.

in his previous trip, niki used his last chance to quickly head back home (much to heeseung’s annoyance that niki took two years to make contact) before setting out again.

he will never give up when it comes to you. it may take his entire life but niki won’t stop until he finds you again.

his current dimension was rather interesting. there was no technology whatsoever, it was as if he went back in time (technically he was always time travelling). everything was as if it was the medieval era, and niki was amazed with every single little thing.

he found himself a nice little cottage hidden in a nearby forest and that’s when it dawned on him again.

this was a medieval era dimension.

they do not keep records of people. there’s no gps.

niki groaned again, ruffling his hair in annoyance. “you have got to be kidding me!” he muttered to himself, annoyed.

niki spent roughly two or three months asking the villagers about you, and trying to map out the village and the surrounding villages.

living there made him wonder how did people survive in the past. niki realised he was way too reliant on technology that once he got back home, he should cut his usage. “oh, but i’m trying to find yn because of technology..” he mumbled to himself while he began to set off on his daily walk.

there was one neighbourhood left in that village for niki to ask about you and that was just where he was headed.

walking along the streets, the aroma of freshly baked bread went up his nose. he recognised that scent immediately. it was your favourite bread.

“should i get it?” he mumbled to himself, rummaging through his tiny bag for money. “yn would love that-“

“please leave me alone.”

niki’s ears perked up at that voice. it sounded way too familiar to him. he looked around for the source and found himself in a tiny alleyway and all the way at the end was a muscular and way bigger man harassing a tinier person.

niki tilted his head. even from a distance, the figure seemed way too familiar to him. he squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look. could it be-?

the figure then turned their head slightly, and everything clicked to niki.

it was you.

“i don’t have the money okay!” you almost shouted. “i need more time, please-“ you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, bringing you close to their body. you looked up and-

niki?

“i can pay,” niki smiled softly at you before turning to the bigger man. he took out a tiny pouch from his bag and placed it in the man’s hand. “that should be enough, no?”

the man opened the pouch up and counted the money. he let out a grunt, annoyed but a little satisfied before turning his heel.

once he was gone, niki turned to look at you, a soft smile on his face. after all these years, you were right in front of him again. tears welled up in your eyes. you thought you will never see him again. but now, you were in his arms again, the one place you desperately wished to be in for the past seven years.

“sorry i’m late, i was looking everywhere for you.”

© taeraemisu do not copy my works !

perm taglist ! (send an ask) ; @wtfhyuck

[crappymixtape]

eyes half shut

hawkins high alumni always run the end of year carnival to help raise funds for the school and steve is always in charge of the alumni basketball game, but this year they’re trying out a kissing booth and who better to headline than steve harrington? | ( 3.9k – a little angst, a little fluff, kinda enemies to kinda lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

E Y E S H A L F S H U T 🎶 dream boy, savannah conley

“Now, please don’t be late, Steven. Jason’s done with his shift right at seven and we don’t want to keep people waiting.” Miss Click tapped on the clipboard in her hand before hanging it back up on the nail hammered into the wall of the booth, “Robin Buckley volunteered to cover the cash register for your shift too! You remember Robin.”

Steve felt his jaw tick with irritation as he tried to hide the grimace on his face, his old History teacher practically beaming at the very mention of his friend. Of course Robin volunteered to run the register. She just wanted a front row seat for what was sure to be the most humiliating night of his life.

“Great. Robin Buckley. A real grade A student,” he said with a forced smile, jamming his hands into the pockets of his Levi’s.

“I thought so too! Such an attentive pupil,” Miss Click agreed before checking her watch. “Oh dear, I need to go check on the cake walk. I’ll see you back here in a few hours, I’m sure we’ll have record donations!” and with that she was off across the football field leaving Steve alone in the small booth to freak out about what he’d just agreed to.

A kissing booth. Great. Perfect. Totally fine.

He definitely wasn’t sore about Tommy getting to run the alumni basketball game instead of him. Wasn’t stressing the fuck out about the idea of having to kiss people for an hour straight. Or worse, kiss no one at all and have to live under a rock for the rest of his life and he totally wasn't going to kill Robin for ‘graciously volunteering’ to take money at his expense.

Loosing a sigh from his chest Steve ran his hands through his hair and kicked at the frame of the wall, KISSING BOOTH written above him. All curly letters and lipstick marks and bright red paint, taunting and teasing him about what would be happening in a few short hours.

It was going to be fine. Totally fine. Steve Harrington could handle a few smooches for charity. Right?

Right?

Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you? You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two. I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you.

Joan Jett was yelling through the speakers of your stereo as you leaned over your dresser, swiping mascara through your lashes in the mirror, trying your best to hurry up and get ready for the Hawkins High Jamboree.

Did you want to go? Absolutely not.

Was your room mate and best friend making you go with her? 100%.

“So, like, are you gonna be ready this century or should I plan on arriving in a coffin? Actually. Steve’s gonna probably put me in one anyway, might be doing him a favor,” Robin mused around her toothbrush from across the hall in the bathroom.

“Hah, are you kidding? That guy came out of the womb as a fully formed show boat. He loves shit like this,” you shot back, shaking your head at the thought of Steve posted up at the kissing booth. A stupid, shit-eating grin pasted on his face. Signature hair all perfectly coiffed. A ridiculously long line of girls just waiting to fawn over him.

“Can’t argue you on the show boat bit, but he’s still totally gonna kill me,” Robin said snorting as she spat her toothpaste into the sink.

You weren’t sure what had happened between senior year and now, but somehow your best friend had also become Steve Harrington’s best friend and it made absolutely no sense.

At first you’d been extremely skeptical, even overprotective of her, and made it a point to tag along with them where ever they were going to make sure he wasn’t going to do something shitty, but much to your chagrin he proved you wrong every single time. He was even nice and somehow made Robin ugly laugh more than you did. How dare he?

“C’mon, I don’t wanna keep Nance waiting, she’s gonna be downstairs soon,” Robin popped her head in through your door and you shot her a grin.

“Ooo, eyeliner. Are you two going out after?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows at her and she frowned, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah. Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing!” you held your hands up in surrender and gave her a little smile, “Just–it’s about damn time. You two have been dancing around each other for months.”

Robin was pretty private about her love life, especially after things hadn’t worked out with Vickie, and you were one of the only ones who really got to be in the know. Well. You and Steve, but you had to hand it to him. He at least seemed pretty damn empathetic and supportive in that regard toward Robin and you were thankful to him for it.

“What, are you keeping track?” Robin grumbled, smoothing her shirt down a bit and picking at the chipped black polish on her nails.

“You’re the one with the scoreboard,” you gently teased back, shoving your feet into the Chucks next to your dresser, but then your expression softened as you looked up at her, “You know I’m not. I’d be one to talk anyway, my love life is non-existent.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you should try. It’s not all bad. Look at me, put myself out there and already have a date,” she said pointedly, scrunching up her nose at you.

“No, thanks,” it was your turn to grumble and you shouldered past her into the hallway.

“Wait. Wait a second. Yes. Yes, thanks!” she said, tone suddenly shifting into the one where you knew she was up to no good.

“Robs, whatever you’re about to say? Don’t,” you grabbed your wallet and chapstick off the kitchen table and turned to fix her with a look. The way she was grinning at you was horrifying. “Oh my god. What?”

“Kiss him,” she said simply and you looked at her blankly.

“What?”

“Put yourself out there! Kiss him!” she said again more enthusiastically and your stomach flipped over.

“Steve? Oh, wow. Let me go ahead and put a ‘hell’ in front of my no. No, Robs. No way,” you crammed your things into your pockets and shook your head, opening the fridge to try and find a beer. Booze suddenly felt very, extremely, necessary.

“Seriously! C’mon! What, are you chicken?” she make a little squawking noise as you cracked open the last beer hiding at the back of the fridge.

“Seriously?” you parroted back, “What, are you twelve? No, I’m not doing it.” You took a long drink from the can in your hand and grimaced as the carbonation fizzed in your nose. Too much.

“If you do, I’ll leave you alone for a whole week,” Robin’s tone was sing-songy, dragging out the vowels as she leaned on the open fridge door and smiled at you all sweetly. Full of mischief.

You waited, took another drink of beer and narrowed your eyes at her. She’d been begging you to go on a double date with her and Nancy and the thought of it made you want to throw up. Not only were double dates super cringy, but one: you didn’t have a boyfriend and two: Robin always suggested Steve and you’d immediately have to shut it down. He was absolutely not your type and there was no way you’d make it more than thirty minutes.

“Two weeks,” you countered, “And if you’re gonna hang out with him it can’t be here.”

“Deal!” she said much too quickly, sticking her hand out to you and you frowned, taking it and shaking it aggressively.

“Great. Deal.” It was just a kiss, right? Not stupid Seven Minutes in Heaven or Spin the Bottle, just cramming a dollar into a jar and a quick peck on the lips and you’d be free from Robin’s meddling for two whole weeks. Worth it.

Buzzzzz.

Someone was at the door, a Nancy Wheeler shaped someone, and the color drained from Robin’s face.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re fine, you look great,” you took another drink of your beer and then offered the last half of it to Robin who finished it off in one go.

“It’s not—“ Robin burped, beer was a bad choice, “—too much?”

“No, it’s not too much. The eyeliner is nice, really brings out the black in your heart. Now let’s get go,” you grabbed the empty can from her hand and tossed it in the recycling before shoving her toward the door.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna kiss Steve,” she said, grin tugging at the corners of her lips and your expression soured.

“Oh my god, just go,” and despite your grumbling, despite insisting on your irritation, all you could think about the entire ride over was a sliver of a memory from last summer.

It was smack in the middle of July. Sun beating down with the intent to fry you alive.

Robin had practically begged you to go get ice cream and it wasn’t like you were gonna say no. It was hotter than hell out, of course you were gonna get ice cream, but then Steve tagged along. Sat across from you in the booth and ordered a strawberry milkshake. Wrapped his perfectly pouted lips around the straw and sipped it slowly. Licked whipped cream from his fingers. Ate the cherry last and looked up at you when he’d pulled it from the stem with his teeth and for a split second all you could think about was him.

What it would taste like. What it would feel like.

What it would be like to kiss Steve Harrington.

“Bye now,” Jason was smiling all saccharine sweet. Pure sugar. Too much and too fake as the girl he’d just kissed slowly backed away from him. Unable to pull her eyes away as he leaned against the frame of the booth effortless and on display for the girls waiting in line, all of them disappointed they hadn’t beat the clock to seven.

And as Steve walked across the field to take Jason’s spot, he audibly groaned watching the other boy soak it all up.

Fuck this. He was not excited, he was not looking forward to this, and he did not want to stand anywhere near a damn kissing booth. Roughing his hands over his face he sucked in a deep breath. It was only an hour. Sixty minutes. It would fly by.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the King!”

Yeah, no. This was going to suck.

“Haven’t used that since Junior year, Carver,” Steve’s voice was flat, unamused, and when he walked up on the line a few of the girls huddled up and started to whisper.

“Ah, c’mon, Harrington. Return of the king! Back on top!” the grin that pulled at the corners of Jason’s mouth grew as he fed off Steve’s negative energy. “C’mon, the ladies love it,” and as he turned back to the line a couple girls toward the end started to walk away, “Oof, guess I’m a hard act to follow.”

Steve jammed his tongue into his cheek, hands balling up at his sides as he eyed the other boy, wanting nothing more than to put a fist into Jason’s face. “It’s for charity, dumbass. Not a damn competition,” Steve grumbled as the other boy pushed himself off the wall of the booth.

“Whatever you say, King Steve. Dropping like flies. Least you’ll get out of here early,” Jason sneered and gave Steve a too-hard clap on the back. Biting down on his lip, Steve struggled to keep himself in check, struggled to keep his hands at his sides until someone else chimed in.

“Carver you better get goin’, gonna be late for Bible study,” Robin walked up on the boys with you and Nancy in tow and gave Jason a too-sweet smile of her own, “Don’t wanna let Jesus down. Well. More than you already have I guess.”

Jason’s face turned beet red and Steve stifled a laugh with a very unconvincing cough, a few scattered giggles coming from the line.

“Shut up, Buckley.”

“Tsk, tsk. How’s it go? Love your neighbor or whatever? Anyway, so nice to see you!” Robin punched him a little harder than she should’ve in the shoulder and walked up behind the counter to take over for Chrissy Cunningham. “Alright, ladies! Now that we’ve taken out the trash – come give the King of Hawkins high a big ol’ smooch and help buy new basketball uniforms! Real win/win here, friends,” her voice was so loud it made people’s heads turn over at the cake walk and Steve wanted to die.

“Jesus, Robin,” he hissed, scrambling over to take up his post under the giant red sign.

Nancy turned to you shaking her head, but smiling all fond over Robin, “I kinda feel bad for him.”

“I don’t,” you said with a laugh, watching the line perk up a bit with Robin’s encouragement as Steve looked like he wanted to pass out, giving the first girl in a line a kiss.

“You know, he’s not that bad,” Nancy said, giving you a nudge with her elbow.

Glancing back over at the booth you saw the second girl walk up and give her dollar to Robin, Steve’s face still flushed and pink, but lips just as pouted and perfect as they’d been that day at the diner. Sipping down strawberry milkshake and pulling the cherry off the stem and you felt your stomach flip over.

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, but Nancy chuckled when she saw how rosy your cheeks had grown.

“Okay, well you better get in line or you’ll have Robin on your ass worse than before,” she reminded you of your deal and you groaned. “It’ll be easy,” she said giving you a grin, “And he really is a good kisser.”

Your blush only deepened with her words and you tried to hide it, throwing your eyes down to your feet and starting to walk away, “Okay, great! Can’t wait. So awesome. Just the best.”

“Relax! It’s just a kiss!” she called over her shoulder as you fell into the last place in line behind someone from your old AP English class, trying very hard to not turn and run away.

At first it was an extremely awkward and uncomfortable exchange of events for Steve.

People would give Robin their money, she’d say thank you in her silly sing-songy Robin voice, and then they’d walk up to Steve and smile. Sometimes it was shy, sometimes it was overly aggressive, and sometimes there’d be a weird pause where they’d just stare at each other. He’d clear his throat nervously or stress about whether or not he should’ve brushed his teeth two more times before he’d left the house, but eventually she’d lean in and they’d kiss and then it’d be over.

It was ridiculous because he used to kiss random girls all the time at parties and shit in high school. Used to love it. Maybe because it stroked his ego. Because he liked showing off. Maybe he didn’t get enough affection at home. Maybe Nancy Wheeler broke his heart and he just wanted to forget, but now? Things were different now. He was different now.

He didn’t sleep around, he didn’t kiss and tell, his dating life was abysmal and this kissing booth just seemed to add insult to injury.

“Steve,” Robin whisper-yelled between customers as if she could tell he was spiraling, “You’re doing great. Only two more to go and you’re done!”

“God, Robin. Please stop talking,” Steve hissed back and gave the next girl a weak, half-hearted smile.

“Just saying–”

“Hi,” Steve cut Robin off and greeted the shorter, blonde girl he recognized from Senior year science. She was second-to-last in line ahead of you and you fought back a laugh, watching the awkwardness unfold.

“Hi, Stevie,” she purred and Steve’s stomach lurched.

Stevie? Oh god. Why?

She’d clearly just applied a fresh layer of shiny, pink gloss right before her turn came up and when she leaned in toward him, Steve waited til her eyes were closed to grimace. What? He wasn’t a monster.

It was slippery and wet and not good, but Steve gave her what he hoped was a friendly enough smile as she pulled away all starry-eyed.

“Maybe see you around? When you’re done?” she asked and he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah! Ye–maybe,” he stuttered and she slipped him a piece of paper with her number on it.

“Call me,” she winked and Steve died.

“Okay, sure. Thanks,” he stumbled over his words and when she finally turned away you watched as he screwed his eyes shut, muttering under his breath.

You caught the words stupid and want to die and you almost laughed, but it fell apart in your throat as the girl walked away and left you there. Last in line and panicking as you suddenly remembered what was supposed to happen next. Why were you just as nervous as he was?

Shaking off the last kiss, Steve was ready to just be done. Only one left Robin said, but when he looked up the pained expression on his face softened.

You.

Robin’s room mate. Her best friend. Her cute best friend. The one who fought him over best friend duties. Who teased him relentlessly and gave him shit all the time. Wasn’t afraid to eat an entire pizza on her own and always ordered a chocolate shake with sprinkles at the diner. Who wasn’t afraid to call him out on things and had a mouth like a sailor. A mouth he’d wanted to kiss more and more every time he saw you, but he could never find the right time to ask or try or make a move and–

“Oh,” fell from him, quiet and surprised and your lips twisted into a little frown.

“Oh,” you said back trying to tease, but it came out sounding a lot more hurt than anything.

Steve’s brows pinched together with worry and he took a step toward you, the most he’d moved all night. “N-no, sorry. I didn’t mean it like…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, trying hard to put words to what he was trying to say, but they weren’t coming out.

“That’s okay. S’for a good cause, right?” you shrugged and forced a smile.

“Yeah. Right,” he agreed lamely as you crammed a dollar into Robin’s hand with a glare. Two weeks better be worth it.

Then turning back to Steve you took another tiny step toward him and he did the same putting you two dangerously close. Almost toe-to-toe. The scent of fresh laundry and spearmint and boy making you feel dizzy, making you feel dumb, and when you pulled your eyes off the ground to look up at him your breath caught in your throat.

Fuck he was pretty.

That pout. The twin moles on his cheek. The soft slope of his jaw. The way his hair fell messy across his forehead and into his eyes all warm honey, liquid amber, melted caramel. He was making it hard to hold your grudge and you could feel the wall you’d put up around yourself start to crumble.

“So. We just–” you didn’t finish your sentence as he looked down at you, his lips parted, waiting, anticipating.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh–” Steve’s voice was low and made your tummy twist as he shook his head a little and leaned down. Tried to do the same thing he’d been doing all night, but suddenly so damn unsure. He paused, close enough you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek, “Is this–is this okay?”

“Mmhm,” you murmured and you didn’t have to wonder anymore. You were nervous, just like he was was, and it scared the shit out of you.

“Okay, guess I’ll just–” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he closed the gap between you and finally, finally pressed his lips soft and sweet to yours.

And it was everything.

It was slow and curious and a little shy, but the feeling of him against you pushed you to be brave and you tilted your head. Deepened the kiss. Opened for him and he slipped a hand wide and warm and soft at the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair and holding you even closer.

His tongue chased along your bottom lip and you sighed into him, letting him swallow all your soft pretty sounds until you were both breathless and needing air and when he started to pull away you swore you’d give Robin every single bill in your wallet to do it again.

Steve huffed a laugh, hand still holding you gentle at your neck and you bit your lips between your teeth to fight off a grin, too caught up in each other to care about anything else until–

“Yeah, think I’m gonna need another dollar for that one,” Robin was beaming at you two like an idiot and you both fixed her with a look, all sass and attitude.

“Robin,” your voice blended with Steve’s and Robin laughed so hard she snorted.

“Oh my god, please, please make this work. Look at you two. This is ridiculous. Here, go get a drink,” and she fisted a wad of dollars from the register, counting it out and replacing it with money from her own wallet before practically shoving it at Steve.

“What–”

“No, seriously, Harrington. Leave. Get outta here. It’s eight anyway,” Robin cut Steve off and pointed at her watch. Eight on the dot. Kissing Booth closed.

“Uh,” Steve started, looking back over at you with a lopsided smile, “Wanna get a drink?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, hummingbird wings and nerves and a feeling you hadn’t had in a long time. A tiny flicker breathed into flames when Steve pressed his lips to yours and you felt your cheeks warm again at the thought of it.

“For charity?” you teased, trying hard to will your blush away as you pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“No way,” he said, too quick and suddenly his cheeks matched yours. Pink and rosy and warm and you laughed. “No,” he tried again, smile tugging into a smug grin. Just a tiny bit King Steve, but the show of confidence made you weak in the knees, made you want to kiss him again and you grinned right back.

“Okay, but you’re driving. Robs has a hot date,” turning you winked at Robin and her jaw dropped, fighting the urge to dive over the counter and kill you.

“A hot date?” Steve’s eyes grew wide and he reached up to slap at Robin’s hands, “With Nance??”

“I’m late, gotta get this to Click, told her I’d close this up by eight so she could go home,” Robin rambled, trying to pretend like there was so much to do, but failing miserably.

“Have fun!” you teased, throwing her sing-songy tone back in her face, but she ignored you, walking off across the football field still mumbling under her breath.

You looked back to make a joke to Steve, to laugh at Robin, but the sight of him had your words dying in your throat.

"Ready?" he asked, twirling his keys on his ring finger, looking the most relaxed he’d been all night and your heart leapt, hammering against your ribcage. Deep green henley snug across his chest. Dark wash Levi’s hugging all the right places. Hair still messy in his eyes. Those eyes. One hand jammed in his pocket and dirty blue Adidas shifting on the terf, ready to get outta there. Ready to get a drink with you and dammit, Nancy was right.

He was a good kisser.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[daisynik7]

Rush

Chapter 8: Do I Wanna Know?

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spitting, daddy kink, vaginal sex (mating press), heavy on the angst this chapter

Summary: After the events of Halloween, you finally start questioning your relationship with Eren. Meanwhile, he attempts to do some damage control to keep both you and his reputation in check, ultimately resulting in more damage. 

Notes: Song is "Do I Wanna Know" by the Arctic Monkeys

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The Sunday night after Halloween, Alpha Tau gathers upstairs in the fraternity house for their weekly chapter meeting. Tonight, Levi makes a particularly interesting announcement. 

“In about two weeks, Alpha Tau will be hosting its annual fall formal. For you pledges that aren’t familiar with this yet, formal is a special event that happens each semester. It’s essentially a dance. There will be a DJ, dancefloor, photo booth. In addition, dinner will be provided. Luckily, because of our clean record so far this semester, thanks to our partnership with Sigma Nu Kappa, the Student Affairs Committee has approved us having an overnight formal. Meaning we will be renting out a hotel for the night.” 

Most of the seniors cheer loudly at the last part, especially Mike. Eren clenches his fist, the memory of the other night still fresh in his mind. He can’t stand the guy, especially knowing he had his fingers in that beautiful body he’s made claim to. He’s not one to be possessive, but with her, he can’t help it.

Levi continues. “The cost of formal is already included in your membership fees, so I highly encourage every brother to attend. Also, each of you is allowed one guest. This can be anyone: a friend, girlfriend, boyfriend, whoever. If you plan to bring a date, make sure you get their signature on the sign-up form. I’ll be handing these out at the end of chapter. Please get these to me by next Sunday.”

Reiner turns around to face Eren. “Got a girl in mind you want to ask?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

It’s a bold face lie. As soon as Levi mentioned a guest, he immediately thought of her. Her all glammed up in a gorgeous dress, them grinding against each other on the dancefloor, making love in their hotel room when the night is over. 

He allows himself to fantasize about it for a minute before coming back to reality. 

As much as he’d like to ask her to be his date, he can’t. As easy as it would be to just be with her, he won’t. He justifies it to “not being ready”. Asking her to be his date is another level of commitment that he’s not willing to step into yet. He needs time. This is what he’s convinced himself of. 

The more time he spends with her, he finds himself forgetting why this relationship has to be so goddamn difficult. It’s on him; he knows that. His reasons are selfish and immature. Not being ready for commitment. Caring too much about his reputation, which isn’t all that great anyways. It’s all bullshit excuses at the end of the day. 

Eren doesn’t want to fall in love. He’s afraid. Afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of getting hurt. Being in love complicates everything. He enjoys being free, unshackled, able to do what he pleases. Responsible only for himself and nobody else. Allowed to fuck up as many times as he can without repercussions. Because he will fuck up. He’s young, dumb, and selfish. Why burden anyone with his flaws? 

But when he’s with her, he’s happy. In a way, he still feels free. Weightless, liberated, unbound. As if a whole new world has been opened up to him, as cliché as that sounds. She makes him feel worthy, makes him feel loved. 

And that’s what scares him the most. 

It’s not love. How can it be? Aside from the amazing sex, what do they really know about each other? Eren has done his best to avoid revealing anything about himself. She’s kept a similar guard, probably just as afraid as he is. 

It’s lust. That’s all it is. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

He wishes he had met her in a different time in his life. Maybe after he’s gotten all this dumb, frat boy energy out of his system. It would be easier for them. It would be different. Better. 

He knows what he needs to do eventually. He has to end it with her before it gets too serious. Their time together on Halloween night felt different. He exposed himself, revealed a little too much of his feelings.

She’ll never leave him; he’ll string her along until the time is right. He’ll continue to drag this out as much as he possibly can. Continue telling her what she wants to hear, getting away with his sins until he decides it’s time to move on.

He’s got it all under his control. 

“You should bring that girl Pieck,” Reiner suggests, snapping Eren out of his thoughts. “Bertolt is thinking about asking another Delta Mu also.”

Eren shrugs again, unsure how else to respond. His big brother turns back around to face the front as Erwin makes his closing statements, ending chapter. 

On the way out of the meeting, Armin nudges him. “Who are you really thinking of taking to formal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just because Reiner is telling you who to bring, doesn’t mean you have to take them. Isn’t there anyone else you’d like to ask?”

He doesn’t answer right away, tempted to be honest with his best friend. However, Eren is still a coward that won’t admit to anything that shows off a sign of weakness.

“I think I will ask Pieck. I hung out with her on Halloween. She’s cool.” Wanting to take the focus off him, he asks, “Who are you going to take?”

“I’m going to ask Annie,” Armin states confidently. 

“Annie? Really?”

“Yes, I like her. We have fun together,” he explains, smiling. 

Eren can’t help being envious at how easy it is for Armin to confess his feelings. Again, he questions himself why he’s making his own relationship more difficult than it needs to be. 

On their way to their dormitory, Eren gets a text message:

Mikasa is sleeping over at Jean’s tonight.

Without a second thought, Eren lies to his roommate. “I’m going to the library for a couple of hours. I forgot I have a paper due in a few days for Pyxis.”

“Oh, okay. Good luck. I’ll see you later.”

Eren turns to the direction of the library until he’s out of Armin’s line of sight. A few minutes later, he’s outside another familiar dorm building. There’s a mixture of excitement and anxiety as he waits for her to come down. They haven’t talked since that night. He abandoned her when they were caught by Hitch and Annie. In that moment, he panicked. Instead of explaining himself like any normal, mature person would, he fled the scene, hoping she would be able to fix whatever mess they created. 

She’s in sweats when she opens the door, motioning him to come in. Even in this outfit, his heart flutters at the sight of her. 

“Hey,” he greets her, a small grin on his lips. 

“Hi.” She returns his smile with her own. Warm and bright as ever. 

It would be so easy. So easy to be together, Eren repeats in his head, as he follows her upstairs. 

~~~

Up in your room, as soon as the door is closed, he steps towards you with both hands on your cheeks, kissing you passionately. Your lips smack together, tongues sliding in and around each other’s mouths, hands pressed against his chest. You kiss like this for a minute, your pulse beating fast under your skin.

He breaks away, foreheads touching, noses nuzzling. “Hi,” he whispers. 

You smile. “Hi.”

You get onto the bed and lie besides each other, his arms wrapped around your body. “How are you?” He gives you a smooch on your forehead. 

“I’m fine. Chapter meeting was quick. How about you?”

“Same. Uneventful, as always.” He squeezes you tighter in his embrace. “I’m sorry about Friday night. For running off.”

You’ve had nearly two days to digest all that happened that night and how it plays into your current situation. The rollercoaster of emotions, beginning with denial, peaking at anger, and halting at shame, is causing you to spiral. You spent hours Saturday morning, lying in bed, refusing to accept that Annie is absolutely correct: you do deserve better. You are better than this. And when the realization finally hits you like a bag of bricks, the rest of your Saturday is wasted pacing around campus, letting off steam caused by this newfound contempt for Eren Jaeger. The blatant disrespect from him that you so fervently overlooked is impossible to deny any longer. 

This leads you into Sunday, when the guilt of how you failed yourself starts to consume you. The burden of realizing that you got yourself into this mess weighs heavy on your chest; the burden to escape it weighs even heavier. 

Yet, you lie here with him on Sunday night, wishing for a sign of redemption. Anything to prove that all this was worth it. That it still is worth it. Holding out hope for some type of forlorn act of love. 

He clears his throat. “I freaked out when I saw them. I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran. I’m sorry.”

You stay silent, waiting for any additional explanation, maybe a more valid reason for ditching you. Nothing else comes out of it. Eventually, he clears his throat again, obviously uncomfortable, asking, “So, what did you end of telling them?”

You choose to leave out the details of what Annie said. It’s not the right time. You don’t want to confess to him that it’s been eating away at you for the past two days. Not yet. “I told them that we’re hooking up.”

“Did they have anything to say to that?”

“Not really. They were just surprised.”

He chuckles. “Annie isn’t necessarily the biggest fan of me, so I’m sure she’s secretly upset about it.”

She did not keep it a secret at all, you think to yourself, remembering her disgust very clearly.

“They’re not going to tell anybody, are they?”

“No. They’re my friends. They’re not going to say anything.”

“Good.” His relief doesn’t bring you comfort. Rather, it causes you more stress. He’s so desperate to keep you a secret, and for what? To save face? Protect a reputation that barely exists in the first place?

“Would it be so bad? If people know? What’s the big deal?” You’re already preparing yourself for a disappointing answer. 

Before he replies, he reaches his fingers down to your chin to tilt your head up. “I want to be with you, okay? I just need time.”

“Time?”

“Yeah, to get used to this. I’m not really a relationship or commitment person. This is all new to me. Just give me time. I promise you. It’ll all be alright.” His eyes look earnest. Honest. Sweet. 

The trouble with Eren Jaeger is that he is a master at his craft. Manipulating a situation to go his way is a skill that no one can compete with him in. And it’s taken you several weeks to recognize how easily you fall for it. 

You leave it at that, tired of hearing excuses, exhausted of empty promises. You start kissing him, palming his cock until it’s hard beneath his pants. This is how it always ends up with you two. This is the only thing you��re good for. 

A few minutes later, you’re both naked, you on your back, thighs spread open as he eats you out, pumping his fingers inside you. You’re the same obedient girl that gave your virginity to him. Allowed him to defile you, to ruin you. It’s what you wanted, what you fantasized about. And now you are dealing with the consequences. Picking up the pieces that you willingly let him destroy.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Such a good girl for daddy,” he hums, flicking his tongue over your clit, middle and ring finger working overtime in and out of your cunt. 

You allow the ecstasy to smother you, because the only way to feel good with Eren is like this. He doesn’t have to know that your mind is filled with doubts, regret, insecurity. And, as he sends you into your first orgasm of the night, you temporarily forget about all the imperfections in this shady relationship. You let the lust and pleasure justify why you’re still here in bed with him. 

When you come all over his fingers, he doesn’t stop. He keeps going until his digits are wet, shiny, and sticky with your slick. He sucks on your clit until it’s swollen and sensitive. Until you’re whimpering with tears rolling down the sides of your face. Until he’s had your fill of you, and you’ve given him all that you can offer. 

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out of you and slides his hard cock up and down your arousal, spreading your cum over your clit. You hear the click of the lube bottle, the soft squelch of oil being rubbed on his shaft, the gravely moan resounding from his throat. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out.

He kneels in front of you, positioned between your legs. His cock glides into your sleek pussy easily, eliciting a low moan from his mouth as he bottoms out. He thrusts into you slowly, spreading your thighs out wider for a better angle. He watches you swallow his entire length, a satisfied smile forming at his lips, as he continues to penetrate your sloppy cunt. 

“Fuck, baby. Look at you. You’re beautiful.” His eyes drift up to meet your gaze. You try to suppress the flutter in your belly, reminding yourself that he only says this when you’re beneath him, surrounding his cock. Giving him what he wants.

“Take this cock, take this fucking cock. Good girl, good fucking girl,” he growls, sliding his hands under your thighs and pushing your knees closer to your chest. He has you in a fucking mating press, pounding your G-spot ruthlessly, determined to milk you dry. 

“Fuck!” you cry out, fists clenching the sheets, eyes shut tight as he drills you into the bed, completely lost in the heat of passion. You hear him spit twice, his saliva trickling onto your puffy clit. Suddenly, his fingers are on you, stimulating your messy bud smeared in his drool. The sensation overtakes you. Soon, you’re coming once more all over his cock, pussy throbbing around him.

“I want to fill you up, baby. Fill you up with my fucking load,” he moans. Both his hands are holding onto your legs, pushing them towards your shoulders into a goddamn yoga pose. Your cunt is so wet, you’re worried he’ll slip out any second. 

He orgasms inside you, groaning as he comes down from his high. “Fuck, baby. Wish I could take a picture of this.” He pulls out to marvel at your drenched pussy, biting his lower lip. 

Turning your head to the side, you stare blankly at the wall of your bedroom, brought back to reality. Nothing has changed. He’s still the same Eren. Your body feels good, spent and satiated, as it usually does when he’s finished with you. Your mind, however, is focused on all the problems that remain. 

He chuckles, crawling next to you, asking, “You okay?” Completely unaware of the turmoil taking over your mind. 

You nod, staying silent as you sit up, ready to make your usual post-coital trip to the bathroom. His hand grips at your wrist. “Hey. Baby. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just have to pee,” you tell him. Not yet. It’s still not the right time.

“Okay,” he relents, loosening his hold on you. 

You slide into your pajamas, avoiding his gaze. From the corner of your eye, you see him looking at you with a worried expression. Does he actually care?

As you exit your bedroom, anxiety creeps into your chest. It feels like the calm before the storm. 

Sometime soon, you’re going to crack. The burden of it all is going to break you, cause you to snap. Unleash the hell that’s burning in your fragile soul.

Not tonight, not in this moment. But soon. 

You’ll finally be free.

~~~

The days pass and Eren’s timeline for turning his sign-up form is dwindling. He’s been debating with himself all week about how he should proceed with this. 

Thursday night, the brothers of Alpha Tau eat dinner together in the dining room. Those that live in the house are prepared food everyday by their house chef. Pledges are allowed two meals a week, free of charge, as long as an active brother signs them up as their guest. Tonight, Reiner invites him to eat with them. 

“Have you asked Pieck to formal yet?” Reiner shoves a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, waiting for a response.

“I haven’t,” he replies, taking a bite out of the meatloaf on his plate. He knew this was going to come up eventually. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” In a hushed voice, he leans in closer and urges, “Just don’t take a Sigma Nu Kappa. Anyone but them. A lot of brothers are already taking them. We need to add some hot girls in there or else we’ll be the laughingstock to the rest of the frats.”

It’s a ridiculous statement. Truly. Reiner is an idiot. Apparently so is Eren for going along with everything he commands. 

“I don’t even know how to get a hold of her. I only met her at the Halloween party.”

“Ask Bertolt to help you out. He’s taking another Delta Mu sister. She can let Pieck know you’re interested.”

Eren has been procrastinating doing this on purpose. Once he asks Pieck to the dance, he has no other choice but to break the news to her. He’s nervous for how she’ll react; she’ll probably come up with some smartass comment to make him feel guilty. She never stays mad at him, though. Never. He has her wrapped around his finger, and he shamelessly takes advantage of that. 

“Fine. I’ll ask Bertolt to help me set it up.” 

Reiner pats his back. “Don’t forget to sign up for a room with a single bed. I’m sure you’ll be using it.” He gives you a cocky smirk, going back to scarf down his meal. 

Eren hangs out on the couch after dinner, digesting. He checks his phone frequently, waiting for any type of text inviting him over. He hasn’t talked to her since Monday morning, when he whispered a soft “good morning” as he crawled out of bed to get ready for the day. Even though they spent the night together, she didn’t say much. Usually, they chat with each other before drifting off to sleep. She was much quieter on Sunday, only nodding along and providing short responses as he babbled on and on. He attributes it to exhaustion from the amazing sex, Eren finally trying a position he’s been fantasizing about doing with her.

On his way out of the house to retreat to his dorm room for the night, he spots Annie walking out of the Sigma Nu Kappa house. “Jaeger,” she calls out, before he can avert her.

Reluctantly, he turns to face her. “Hey.”

“Come here for a second. I want to talk to you.” Her expression is the typical scowl she wears whenever she sees him. He wonders if she’s typically like this with others or if this frown is specifically reserved for him. 

“What do you want?” 

She sizes him up, eyes narrowed. “Geez, what’s with the attitude?”

“What do you want?” he repeats, already losing his patience.

She twirls a strand a hair between her fingers. “Armin asked me to formal.”

“Yeah, he told me he was going to ask you.” He still can’t fathom how his best friend, who is a gentle teddy bear, plans to attend a dance with someone as callous and deadpan as Annie. Then again, he hasn’t been spending much time with Armin to discuss this recent development. 

“So, when are you going to ask her? I heard the deadline is on Sunday. It’s already Thursday.”

Eren plays dumb, placing his hands in his pockets and shrugging. He doesn’t owe anyone, especially Annie Leonhart, an explanation. 

She glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing? She’s a nice girl. Why are you messing around with her like this?”

The accusation irritates him. Defensively, he responds, “I’m not messing around with her, okay? And I know she’s a nice girl. Why do you think I keep her around?” 

Her eyes get narrower, scrutinizing him. “She’s not a plaything, Jaeger. She’s a human being.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.” 

“Do you even know how she feels about you?” 

There’s a growing guilt building in his chest as he tries to remain unbothered by this hostile confrontation. He keeps silent, unsure how to react. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to know. Knowing will only make it more difficult for him to let go. To move on. 

She scoffs. “You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re nosy,” he spits out. “What the hell did you tell her anyways? She’s been really distant lately. Hasn’t been talking to me much.”

A small smirk forms on her face. “I told her the truth. Told her what she needed to hear.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you don’t know, then you really are hopeless.”

Eren rolls his eyes, having had enough of this conversation. This is typical Eren. When he’s put in a tough situation, he walks away. Sometimes runs. He turns away from her, not at all interested in being harassed any further. 

Before he moves, she warns, “There are a lot of people who care about her. If you hurt her, you will be reminded every day of how badly you fucked up.”

It sounds like a threat. With Annie, it probably is. 

Without facing her, he says, “I care about her too, Annie.” His voice is soft, maybe even a little vulnerable. Admitting it out loud is unusual; he’s surprised to hear his own mouth utter these words. 

“Then act like it. I thought you didn’t let other people influence how you think or feel. Remember you told me that? Don’t let Reiner influence your decisions. Believe it or not, I at least have more respect for you than him. Don’t be a disappointment.”

With that, he makes his way back to his dorm room, Annie’s words sticking to his mind no matter how hard he tries to disregard them. She’s right; he knows what he’s doing is wrong.

Don’t be a disappointment.

It’s too late for that. 

~~~

Friday night, Sigma Nu Kappa hosts their monthly pizza night. The sisters gather in the kitchen, assembling their personalized pies, handing them over to their chef who bakes them in a portable wood-fired oven. During these special nights, all sisters, whether they live in the house or not, are allowed to participate. 

Hange, who always tries to make the smelliest pizza possible, topped with anchovies, olives, onions, and garlic, is regulated in the corner of the room, eating her meal alone with a twisted smile on her face. Petra, Nanabe, and the other seniors talk amongst themselves as they munch on their dinner, discussing upperclassmen topics unrelated to the rest of the sisters. 

You eat with Mikasa, Annie, and Sasha on the couch, watching a comedy movie on TV. After some idle gossip, Sasha brings up a topic that catches you off guard. 

“Who else is going to Alpha Tau’s formal, besides Mikasa and Hitch?”

“Hey, I haven’t been formally asked by Jean yet. He wants to do it after a nice dinner tomorrow, bless his heart,” Mikasa explains, a sweet smile on her face. “Who’s taking Hitch?”

“Connie!” Sasha answers, proudly. “I set it up. Just call me Cupid.”

“Armin asked me. And I said yes,” Annie mentions in a quiet voice, blushing.

“Armin?! Oooh la la, Annie!” Sasha teases, resulting in a firm punch to her arm.

You notice Annie glancing at you, imploring some sort of comment. 

“I didn’t even know Alpha Tau is having a formal,” you say. Eren hasn’t mentioned it all week. In fact, he’s barely contacted you since Monday morning, when he kissed you goodbye before leaving for his morning class. In his defense, you haven’t made any effort to reach out to him either. You can’t help but wonder if he’s planning to ask you eventually. There’s still that glimmer of hope you’re holding out for him, despite how fast it’s dwindling.    

Annie glares, clearly upset. However, she doesn’t say anything, still adhering to her vow of silence in regard to your secret. 

“Mike is probably going to ask you,” Mikasa mentions, smirking. She found out about your little fling with Mike on Halloween and has been pestering you about it since.

You return her smile. “Maybe.” 

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind going to formal with Mike. After that night, you still consider him a friend. The few times you’ve passed by him this week, he’s acted normally, greeting you with that handsome grin that he wears so confidently. If you weren’t so fucked up in the head by Eren, you could definitely see yourself falling for Mike, the way he deserves. The way both of you deserve.

Instead, here you are. Still wishing more than anything that Eren asks you to this formal. Setting your expectations so high, you can barely see the top. It’s laughable. It’s pathetic.

You spend the rest of the night at the house, watching another movie snuggled next to your sisters as you all share a big bowl of popcorn. Mikasa leaves before you, heading to Jean’s for the night. Instinctually, you reach for your phone, ready to text Eren. Before you can, Annie nudges you. 

“Hey. Let’s walk back together. I want to talk to you.”

The two of you leave the house, slowly making your way towards the dorms. You’re concerned about what she wants to tell you, anticipating it has something to do with Eren. “What is it, Annie?”

She sighs, staring down at the ground as you both take your time walking. “I’m just going to say it, okay?”

You nod, eyebrows knit together with worry. Anxious for another truth bomb she’s sure to drop in this moment.

“I don’t think Eren is going to ask you to formal.”

It’s inevitable; your heart falls. The sinking sensation dwelling in the pit of your stomach slows down your steps, as if gravity is pulling you towards the ground. “How do you know?”

“I ran into him last night. I asked him and he didn’t give a straightforward answer.”

“Oh,” is all you can mutter as you process this information.  

“Also, I overheard something.” She pauses, debating if she should continue.

“Annie,” you urge her, desperate for the truth.

She gulps loudly, admitting, “I heard he’s taking someone from Delta Mu.”

There’s a cluster of emotions rushing through your head. He’d rather take anyone else besides you, the girl he’s been fucking the past couple of weeks. He was on his goddamn knees just a week ago, begging to have you. Granting whatever wish you desired to nestle himself inside your body, the one you offered him on the fateful night that initiated it all. 

You’re as much to blame as he is, falling for his tricks. For that low voice that can lull you into a trance and manipulate you into submission. Those compelling eyes that dazzle you, hiding the true nature of his cold, frigid heart. 

While your feelings for him have always been true, there are far too many red flags now to ignore, to make excuses for. Time and time again, you’ve let the waves of pleasure purify the sins of your messy relationship, if only for a short while at a time. Not anymore. This is the final straw. 

Now, you want revenge. To hurt him the same way he’s hurt you. Pull the rug out from under him like he’s done to you in the past. Make him feel something. It may sound cruel and petty, but you don’t care. For the first time since it started, you have clarity. 

“Are you okay?” Annie asks.

“I don’t know. But I think I’m starting to see things more clearly now.”

She gives you a small smile. “That’s good to hear.”

After dropping her off to her building, you head to your room, alone. Repulsed by the idea of inviting Eren over with this new information swimming around in your head. Coincidentally, your phone rings, flashing his name across the screen. 

“Hello?” you answer, attempting to keep your cool. 

“Hey,” he greets, his gruff voice taking a different effect on you now. “How are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You keep your responses short. Not in the mood for the typical pleasantries of a phone conversation. 

You hear a sense of trepidation in his voice, as he says, “So, not sure if you’ve heard already, but there’s this formal coming up for Alpha Tau.”

“Yeah, I heard.” 

You hear him clear his throat, nervous. “I’m going to take Pieck. From Delta Mu.”

Gut punch. Annie prepared you for this, but to hear it from his own voice doesn’t soften the blow. 

Before you can respond, he continues. “It doesn’t mean anything. Reiner told me to take her, so I am.”

He’s a coward. A fucking coward. Always abiding to what his big brother demands him to do, for no good reason. And you’re a fool for letting it go this far. 

“Okay.” 

“Are you mad? It’s just formal. It’s not like I’m dating her or anything. I won’t even dance with her if it makes you happy.” The audacity he has to justify it, to make it seem like what he’s doing is no big deal. It takes all your willpower not to scream into the phone. 

“If you really want to make me happy, you’d ask me to go with you, instead of some other girl,” you state.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re not supposed to be seen together yet. I’m not ready.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

“So, it’s okay to be seen with a Delta Mu, but not with me?” you challenge him, anger seeping through your voice. 

“It’s not like that. Just give me some more time, okay? I just need more time.”

Officially fed up, you quickly say, “Yeah, okay. Got it. Have fun at formal.” You hang up, not waiting for a response. 

Time. You’re sick of hearing this. He uses it as if it’s the magic word that erases all your problems, an excuse to prolong your suffering. You’re not even sure what he needs time for. Does he need it to get over his own insecurities? To grow up and make adult decisions? To realize he cares about you? Regardless, his time is running out.  He didn’t even have the decency to tell you any of this in person. It was all through a fucking phone call. 

Eren Jaeger truly is a coward. The biggest coward of them all.

Your limit has been reached. This is your breaking point. 

 You know what you have to do. 

----------

End Notes: We’re nearing the end, folks! I have three more chapters planned, plus an epilogue. Thank you again for those who have read, commented, liked, and reblogged any or all parts of this so far! 

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[maskyartist]

@mirrow-hamato and @warning-heckmouth both have violently infected me with brainworms after seeing their posts on Clay being the one in the Diamond instead of Floyd so may I offer y’all fine Clay lovin folks-

A lil bit of my own personal Crystal Clear Clay AU :)

Under the cut don’t wanna make it long but yeah lil ficlet under the cut cause this concept has me insane bonkers crazy! And if I can’t draw it may as well write it

The room was dark and quiet. The air, cold and empty, as lifeless as the little creature trapped in its cage feels in this moment. Then again, is it new? To feel so much smaller? So much weaker?

Clay curls up in the silence of the recording booth, tail tucked neatly under his head as he stares at his reflection in the crystalline wall of his Diamond prison.

How long has it been? Since he’s been stolen away from the Putt Putts? How long has he been syphoned of his essence, of his talent? How long has he had to deal with the constant existence that was Velvet and Veneer? And Crimp, too, he supposes.

He really doesn’t like Velvet. Then again, she doesn’t like him, either. They were aiming for Floyd. Clay may not know much beyond the walls of the Putt Putt Greens, but he knows his brothers. Remembers them well enough. He knew Floyd would always strive for bigger and better things. He thrived under the spotlight, it shouldn’t surprise him that’s who the twins wanted. Floyd would’ve made a great solo career…

They didn’t get John Dory, the leader with a voice that could truly project across entire stadiums, no microphone required.

They didn’t get Spruce, the confidence, the posture, the heartthrob personality that must be carrying him now. He was such a charmer.

They didn’t get Floyd, who’s already incredible enough for reasons stated earlier.

Even Bitty B…sweet little Branch. The voice of an angel, that’s what he had. He would rather die then let his babiest brother get hurt like this, but he knows.

Anyone is better then Clay.

.

.

.

“Which one was he again…? The stupid one or something?” Veneer asks, mostly to his sister as he looks Clay over in his newly obtained prison.

“The uh…the fun one.” Clay murmured. “I’m the fun one.”

“Since when?” Velvet plucked the capsule from Veneer’s hands to glare at him. Clay was never tough. He just presses further into the Diamond walls. She rolls her eyes and looks at her brother. “This is why I don’t let you do important tasks! We were supposed to get a talented one, not some run down side-show!”

Veneer pouts at his sister, crossing his arms. “He’s still part of Brozone! Maybe he’s got some talent left?”

“There better be! That’s the only reason we needed one of them, and this one better be worth it!” Velvet huffs. “Hopefully, we’ll find some actual talent on the way home.”

.

.

.

He’s not stupid. Probably one of the smartest out of his brothers, at this point. He knew from the moment the band became popular he was no one’s favorite. Always the other brother. Always the yellow one. People never knew his name. Just his title. He never got much fanmail, or cheers, or anything, really. He was just…

The funny one. And now he’s not even that anymore.

Even more humiliating, Clay was no one without that title. No one without the band. No one without his brothers. He wanted to find people who respected him, took him seriously, and now…

A sigh. Clay stares at the purple walls of his prison and can only do one thing.

Accept defeat, and wait for whatever happens next-

*clatter! clang!*

-…maybe the AC’s acting up. Doesn’t change that Clay can only give up hope and-

*BAM!*

“MR. CLAY!”

-“Viva?!”

Jolting to his feet, Clay races to the very front of his prison, paws presses to the Diamond wall as he watches Viva land with surprising accuracy. If he wasn’t so amazed, he’d give her 10 across the board. What a landing, ladies and gentlemen, what a landing, indeed.

Feeling Viva’s paws press to his, the warmth radiating through the thick crystal walls, makes Clay relax with a happy smile. He didn’t think seeing a familiar face would feel so good.

“You still have my braid?” Viva asks, causing Clay to smile brighter. She loves braiding peoples hair, and Clay was her favorite subject, since his tends to stick in strange places.

Just before he was stolen away, Viva managed to put a small braid in his hair while he was asleep. Took him all day to figure out it was there. Now…

He shrugs. “Looks too nice to get rid of now, dontcha think?” He runs a paw through the braid. A few strands stick out here and there, but he can fix it. He will fix it. He can’t lose this piece of her.

Turning to the task at hand, Clay gazed at Viva. “What’re you doing here? How did you even find me?” He has to ask, because there’s no way. There’s no possible way-

Viva gives him a nervous smile. “Well, after you got taken, I might’ve spent some time alone…thinking…”

Clay’s heart aches. He didn’t want to scare Viva. He promised to always be there for her. Be by her side. Never leave like the people she had before. They were family, forever and always. And yet…

With a shake of her head, the cheeriness returns full force. “I couldn’t leave you out here to dry! So, I followed the footsteps, and after a bit of sneaking and searching, BAM!” A powerful karate slice in the air. Viva flashes Clay a broad grin, all fangs and fake confidence. “I found you!”

Clay can’t help but be stunned.

“You left the village…to find me?” Clay whispers, utterly astonished at the idea. Why would she? Just for him? “But, aren’t you scared?”

“Oh, terrified!”

Same ol’ Viva, it seems…

She presses harder on the Crystal, determination clear on her face. “But it’s like we always say. No Troll left behind. Not again.”

With that, Clay watches as Viva backs up to reach into her hair, pulling out two large sticky hands. Holding the leads like whips, she tosses both atop the bottle and steadies her footing. Then, the bottle begins to tip. Back and forth, back and forth. Clay is wobbled here and there, only catching up to her plan on his second hit into a wall. She’s trying to…unscrew the top? With the sticky hands, it seems. Clay would have more hope, but…

“Viva-!” Ouch, now he’s on the floor again. And thrown against a wall. And on the floor. Wall. Floor. Wall again, or is this meant to be the floor?

“VIVA, STOP!”

The Diamond stops with a clatter, Clay finally sitting up with steadiness again. Oof, he thinks he might hurl… The container has been tipped to its side, and Viva clearly hasn’t heeded his advice, as she now uses the sticky hands as grips for her paws to dig and attempt to twist the top off.

“Hold on!” She struggles, voice hitched as she tries her hardest. It’s like with the tunnel, watching her bloody her paws trying to dig through rubble and debris for just a chance to find them all again. “I can do it! I can! I’ll get you home, a-and we’ll all be safe again.”

“Viva…”

“We’ll fortify the defenses! You’re super good at that! Maybe a thicker door?”

“Viva.”

“More turf, too, could definitely use more turf. Is it a bad idea to pull our pods underground-?”

“Viva!”

Finally, she stops, staring at Clay who stares right back. He wants to hold her face. He wants to wipe her panicked tears and swear up and down it’ll all be okay.

Instead, all he can do is lay his paws on the wall, and feel her warmth as she moves from sticky hand to Diamond. Just to indulge him… She’s too selfless sometimes.

“This case…” A shake of his head. “It’s made of Diamond. Enchanted Diamond. There’s one thing can shatter Enchanted Diamond.”

“Ah-hah!” Viva grins. “I’ll find a Diamond breaking Hammer and come back-!”

“No, Viva, the perfect family harmony!” Clay stomps his foot. “It’s gotta be the perfect family harmony. That’s the only magic we Trolls have that’s strong enough to shatter Diamond.”

“Oh…” Tail wrapped around her leg, Viva gives Clay a furrowed brow. “And that means…”

“I’d need my brothers.” Clay finishes. The utter hopelessness on his face makes Viva wilt herself. She knows about his brothers. He wasn’t exactly shy about it, the many years after his return to the pod, the escape from the Burgens, they had time to connect and grow close. Viva knows as much about Clay as he knows about her.

She knows how bad it was for Clay. How awful he’d feel. How forgotten he’d feel. To know it’s going to take those same brothers to save him…she must know it’d be impossible. Viva is idealistic, she’s not stupid. Not by a long stop.

He’d feel guilty, but…he can’t feel much of anything as realization crashes into him like a speeding train. “My brothers…who are so scattered, we never even sent letters…”

The brothers who must’ve fully, and completely, forgotten him by now.

“Mr. Clay, please, this can’t be the only way!”

“It is, Viva.” He admits quietly. “This is it. If I could tell you where they were, I would, but I can’t.” Clay chokes out. Because why wouldn’t he? Why can’t it hurt, knowing just how forgotten he is? Why didn’t he ever try and find them? He’s so stupid, so, so, stupid-

Just then, before Viva can say anything, the doorknob clicks open, and Clay slams his paws against the Diamond to get her attention faster then the opening door could. “You have to go. Now!”

“But, Clay-!”

“GO!” Clay demands, nearly rattling the bottle as he pushes against the Diamond, trying to push Viva towards an exit. “If they trap you too, we’re helpless!”

“Clay…”

The chatter is getting closer. Clay stares Viva right in the eye.

“Viva, you are the smartest, strongest Troll I have ever met, and I’m so proud to call you my Queen.” Putt Putt needed a ruler, after all. “So please, do this for your people… They can’t be left without a ruler.”

With a disgruntled face, a moment of hesitation, Viva grabs her sticky hands and yanks them off the Diamond casing, flinging them to the air duct above the table.

“I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU!” She swears. “I’LL FIND A WAY TO SAVE YOU! WHATEVER IT TAKES! NO TROLL LEFT BEHIND!”

Her voice fades as she tucks into the air duct, right as-

“Alright, who’s ready to start recording!”

“Ugh, Crimp! You’re already being annoying and we just got here!”

“Go be a pest somewhere else.”

-Clay sighs in relief as Velvet, Veneer, and Crimp pile into the room just as Viva manages to slip away.

Now to just make it though the day. Something that is much, much harder then it sounds.

At least it’s easy to allow that throbbing pain of having the literal talent sucked out of him to fade away when he’s lost in thought, thinking of Viva, reciting his favorite books by heart in his head…

Yet, he’s not even safe in his mind. Not when he knows the truth.

“I’LL FIND A WAY TO SAVE YOU! WHATEVER IT TAKES!”

It’d take a damn miracle to get his brothers together for long enough to practice, let alone save him from this.

“NO TROLL LEFT BEHIND!”

Then why did he leave them behind? Why was he so selfish? Why was he so stupid? And why is he still stupid, hoping they’ll magically appear, just as Viva promised?

Clay simply takes to using the reflection in his Diamond prison as a mirror to adjust his braid. Viva was the one to put it in just before his Trollnapping, after all.

At least he has one good family to hold onto…

Makes it hard to know he’ll be leaving them behind, too.

He’s such a terrible brother…no wonder he’s forgotten.

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 21) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20

Chapter 21

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. You were okay with that when you bought it, but right now the thing that’s wrong with your house is the fact that you’re not in it. Tomura is coming home today – is home right now, in fact – but you’re not there with him. Instead you’re out to breakfast, in the same diner where you and the others plotted to kill the conjurer, with every single human in the neighborhood. Plus Inko, because why not?

You said you’re in the diner. It would be more accurate to say that you’re trapped in the diner, because you’re stuck in the corner of the booth between Shinsou and Jin’s entire family, wedged in so tightly that going out over the table or under it would be impossible. You’ve determined that this is Aizawa’s fault, so you glare at him. “There had better be a good reason why you dragged me here.”

“It’s for your own good,” Aizawa says. “And for Tomura’s, so if you claim to care about him –”

“If I claim to?”

“You’ll allow us to speak. We have more experience with this than you do.”

“None of us had help,” Jin’s mom says. “We had to figure things out by trial and error, and given the situation, we didn’t think it would be fair to let you go through the same thing.”

“Helping a ghost get used to being a human is hard,” Shinsou says. “And getting used to being human is hard for a ghost. We’re helping you. The other ghosts are all at your house helping him.”

“Oh.”

“They have a lot of stuff to explain,” Keigo says. “Stuff you wouldn’t want to explain. Like body stuff.”

“And hygiene stuff,” Inko adds. “They’re used to dematerializing any time they get dirty. Having to clean up is an adjustment.”

“It’s all an adjustment,” Aizawa says. “Our purpose here is to make the adjustment as easy as possible. Let’s begin.”

“No, let’s order,” Keigo says. The server’s here. “Hi. We’ll need a lot more coffee than this.”

There are so many of you that ordering takes forever, and while you wait your turn, you think over the events of the last few days. You went back to work the day after you were discharged from the hospital, scared the hell out of your coworkers, and got booted out by Mr. Yagi, who insisted you go home and rest. You went to the hospital instead, hanging out in Tomura’s room with the ghosts who were on shift. You and Hizashi spent some time formulating a backstory for Tomura, one that lines up with the lies you already told your parents, and Mr. Yagi helped you sneak the fake birth certificate into the government records. That was your first day out. On your second day out, you got to go back to work.

Work sucked. You tore through your inbox like a crazy person, trying to get as much done as possible, knowing you’d be out the whole next week and probably longer. Your progress was impeded by your coworkers, who’d heard rumors about what happened – you and your boyfriend getting kidnapped by a serial killer – and wanted to know if they were true. Surprisingly, Nakayama came to your rescue, shooing the others off. She made it clear that the price was a tell-all happy hour later on, but you decided it was worth it to get everybody else off your back.

Tomura woke up officially last night. The ghosts went to pick him up this morning, right around when the humans dragged you out of your house. You haven’t even seen him, and you’re so crabby about it that when the server asks you what you’re having today, you order half the menu on Aizawa’s dime.

Keigo manages to hold in his snickers until after the server’s walked away. “Gotta fuel up for when you get back, huh?”

“Hey. Gross,” Spinner protests. “There’s kids here.”

“Nah, I’m kidding. I saw what he looks like now. Too much exertion would probably kill him.” Keigo tips a huge wink at you and you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I officially call this meeting of ghost friends anonymous to order. Who wants to start?”

“Probably one of you two,” Jin says, gesturing at Inko and Aizawa. “You all have the same kind of ghost.”

Inko and Aizawa trade a glance, and Inko speaks up first. “Be prepared for a lot of frustration on Tomura’s part,” she says. “Most ghosts permanently embody themselves into healthy forms, so it’s likely that he’ll perceive some unfairness, and possibly express some regret. It’s got much less to do with you than with the adjustment to living as a human, so try not to take it personally.”

“Yeah, don’t take anything personally,” Jin agrees. “Himiko bit us a lot at first. For, like, no reason.”

You try to imagine Tomura biting you for no reason, and can’t. “Remember,” Aizawa says, “Tomura wouldn’t have been capable of permanent embodiment unless it was what he truly wanted. That doesn’t mean adjusting to it will be easy.”

“Like Takami says, the physical stuff is hard to explain,” Shinsou says. He grimaces. “But even just the rules of being human are a lot for them to figure out. They’ve been watching us all follow the rules, but they’ve never had to do it themselves, and they’re still them. They still don’t get a lot of the stuff we do. He’s gonna ask a lot of questions. And he’s gonna complain.”

“Magne had this thing about crosswalks,” Spinner says. “Also about clothes. She still has a thing about clothes. She thinks she can wear whatever she wants, wherever she wants, whenever she wants, as long as the important bits are covered up. I don’t really know how to explain that you just can’t do some stuff.”

You sort of like Magne’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about it, but you can see how it would cause trouble. “The more power they had before they embodied themselves, the less attentive they are to social norms or boundaries,” Aizawa says. “Behavior in public is something to be watchful of. A public indecency charge is not something you want to incur.”

He’s scowling in a way that says this piece of advice is coming out of personal experience. You can’t decide if you want to hear the full story or if you never want to think about it again. “I mean, I think you’ve done sort of a good job training him on this stuff already,” Keigo says. “He’s got some social skills.”

You feel like he might be giving Tomura a little too much credit. “Like three social skills.”

“That’s three more than Dabi’s got,” Spinner points out, which shouldn’t really make you feel better but does anyway. “I hung out with him more than anybody except her, and he’s not that bad. It’ll probably get harder once you two start going out in public, but he’s not starting at zero. He’s at like – level three.”

“One level for every social skill,” Shinsou says, and snickers. “Nice.”

“I think the larger problem is overstimulation,” Jin’s mom says, and it takes all your self-control not to start in with some really inappropriate thoughts. “However they’ve been perceiving through their senses when they’re embodied, it’s much more intense when the embodiment’s permanent – at least from what we saw with Himiko.”

“In general, they struggle with one sense more than the others,” Aizawa says. “For Eri it was taste.”

“Himiko, too,” Jin’s mom confirms. “That might have been what the biting was about. She also struggled with smell, which makes sense, since taste and smell are fairly connected. What about Magne, Spinner?”

“Sight for sure,” Spinner says. “Light sensitivity, color sensitivity, everything. She sees colors the rest of us don’t even know exist. It’s cool. But it sucked at first.”

“For Hizashi it was hearing,” Aizawa adds. “Ghosts are able to hear in multiple dimensions, and his hearing was particularly sensitive as a ghost. It took him two years to be able to go without noise-canceling headphones outside.”

You have a feeling you already know what Tomura’s oversensitivity is going to be. Given the number of contact allergies he’s already displayed and what he was like as a ghost, physical touch is going to be a big problem. It’s so daunting to think of that it pushes you into asking your first real question of the day. “How did you help them cope with it?”

“Patience,” Inko says.

You thought that was a given. “Time,” Jin’s mom adds.

“Space,” Aizawa says, and everyone nods. “Now, for the first few weeks –”

You knew helping Tomura adapt to being human wasn’t going to be easy, but as the ghost friends outline all the things you hadn’t even considered, you begin to grasp just how hard it’s going to be. Every last ghost did damage to their relationship with their human, or humans, while they were trying to adjust. Every human had more than a few moments of thinking how much easier it would have been for their ghost to stay a ghost. Even Hizashi and Mr. Yagi, who were the most intentional about their embodiments, had days where they made living with them feel impossible. You’re glad everyone is being honest with you, thankful that they aren’t sugarcoating it, but your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Tomura’s embodiment wasn’t just an adjustment, it was a last resort to avoid being sucked back into the world between. And it almost didn’t work. If even the ghosts who wanted this were nightmares to live with at first, what’s going to happen with him? Nobody can answer that for you, or tell you how to cope with however many times Tomura will probably tell you that he wishes the two of you had never met. All they can tell you is the same three things: Patience, time, and space.

To be fair to the ghost friends, they highlight the fun stuff, too. Spinner talks about taking Magne to a museum for the first time, and to a mall. Jin and his family turned themselves into foodies so they could try everything alongside Himiko. Even before Shinsou and Eri were adopted, Shinsou taught himself to make candy apples, because Eri had seen them on TV and wanted to try them. Aizawa, looking as calm and reflective as you’ve ever seen him, talks about taking Hizashi to movies, to concerts, to the opera, and watching him hear things as they were meant to be heard for the first time. Inko, smiling broadly, tells you about when she was pregnant, and Mr. Yagi’s reaction the first time he put his hand on her stomach and felt Izuku kick.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost,” she says, laughing. “He didn’t know babies did that.”

Keigo is laughing, too. You picture Mr. Yagi’s startled expression, the one you’ve seen so many times right before he starts coughing blood, and find it in yourself to smile. “They’re still themselves underneath it all,” Inko says. “Even if it takes time to see.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Most of the plates are empty, including yours. You’ve been eating steadily just to have something to do with your hands. “There’s one more thing,” Keigo says. “Stronger ghosts keep some of their powers when they embody permanently. According to Touya, Tomura kept a lot of his. He can still read auras, like they all can, but he can project a pretty strong aura all on his own. And he can still drain stuff, even if he can’t do anything with the life-force. So far it’s looking like he needs to touch something with all five fingers for it to happen, and since it’s not anything close to a natural human ability, he has to really want to destroy it. Just keep an eye on him if he starts to get mad.”

“Okay,” you say. “What else?”

“We’re happy for you,” Shinsou says, and Inko nods, smiling still. Everybody’s smiling, now that you notice it. “It’s a big thing. And it’s a good thing. Now you’re really part of the neighborhood.”

You could be. You can be, now that you and Tomura can both leave if you want to. For a moment, hope begins to tug at you – but then you remember what Keigo said, and what everybody else said about patience, space, and time. It’ll be a long time before the two of you can be part of anything. And probably a long time before the two of you are a two of you again, too. Aizawa’s phone buzzes, and he looks at it. “They’re finishing up over there. We should head back, too.”

He heads to the cash register to pay the bill, and the rest of you work on extricating yourselves from the booth. You wince as you stand up, feeling your stitches pull. Keigo notices. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll live.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard with this stuff,” Keigo says. He gestures awkwardly at his broken arm with the other. “It’s a lot to bounce back from. I’m here when you need to talk. Like I have been.”

“Same here,” you say, and Keigo smiles. “And, um – thanks for taking over with the kids, during the fight. I had to try.”

“It was a pretty good try,” Keigo says magnanimously. “You ran a fire poker right through that guy’s chest. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“You know, I think your house is still the scariest house in the neighborhood,” Jin muses. “I figured Dabi’s house or Aizawa’s was going to take over, but nope. Tomura still has a bunch of his powers and you almost killed two guys. You’re the scariest for sure.”

The scariest house in the neighborhood, and now you’re part of the reason why it’s scary. The list of things that make you feel better these days is short and weird, and Jin’s statement  gets added almost instantly. “Thanks.”

You all carpooled in the Bubaigawara van, and Jin’s mom parks it in front of her own house, allowing everybody else to spill out onto the sidewalk. You and Keigo and Aizawa are last out, and as you get your feet under you, you notice a lot of ghosts milling around in front of your house. In front of it, not inside the fence. You make your way over, stumbling a little bit. “Did he kick you out?”

“Nah, we left. Figured he needed some processing time,” Hizashi says. He’s looking past you, at Aizawa. “Hey, what are you doing walking around? You’re supposed to rest your leg.”

Himiko skips up to you, towing Eri and Izuku after her. “It’s all fine,” she tells you, smiling. “He understands everything and we gave him some of everybody’s clothes until he can buy his own.”

“He looks even more like me now!” Eri is bouncing from foot to foot. “He’s going to come over to our house.”

“Oh.” You wonder if Tomura actually meant it, or if he just said it so she’d leave him alone. “That’s – nice.”

“You’re invited, too,” Eri assures you. Then she, like Hizashi, looks over your shoulder. “Dad! Hitoshi!”

Himiko peels off to meet Jin, leaving you with Izuku, who’s watching the house. “Tomura’s still really powerful,” he says. “Even when he’s human the aura is still there. Dad says he could probably take on a strong conjurer, even like this.”

“What else did your dad say?”

“That’s for you to ask Tomura yourself,” Mr. Yagi says, drawing up alongside Izuku. He smiles at you. “I’ve cleared your schedule next week. Let me know if you need more time.”

“And call if you need anything,” Inko reiterates. She takes Mr. Yagi’s hand and wraps an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Come over for dinner when you’re ready.”

“Yes!” Izuku looks way too happy at the thought. “I have lots of questions for both of you!”

You decide you’ll wait a while to take them up on that invitation, but they’re not the only ones who stop to talk to you specifically. Each of the ghosts stops by briefly, all of them reassuring you that Tomura’s fine. You’re not going to believe them until you see it for yourself.

Finally, Aizawa and Hizashi are all that’s left. Aizawa hands you a book – another one of his. You read the cover out loud and snicker. “What To Expect When Your Ghost Embodies Itself? Great title.”

“It’s a little boring,” Hizashi says, and you realize he doesn’t get the joke. Aizawa is smirking slightly. “Good stuff in there, though.”

“It covers everything we discussed earlier, and a little more,” Aizawa says. “Good luck.”

“You probably won’t be up to it, but come over later if you want,” Hizashi says. “That conjurer ruined our Halloween, so we’re throwing a make-up party at our place. Costumes mandatory.”

There’s no way you’re making it to that party. You thank them for the invitation anyway, tuck the book under your arm, and step through the front gate into your yard. Up the front steps, through the unlocked door, into the front hall. Some part of you is expecting Tomura to materialize in front of you, but he can’t do that anymore. “I’m home,” you call out, and Phantom comes scrabbling across the floor towards you, wagging her tail. You greet her, then pick her up. “Tomura?”

“In here.”

He’s home. Your heart leaps so hard and fast it seems a little ridiculous, and you hurry into the living room to see him. He’s there, sitting on his usual couch cushion, wearing some bizarre mix of clothing from every guy in the neighborhood, plus a pair of socks that could only have come from Himiko. The urge to launch yourself at him, to climb all over him like he’s done to you so many times and prove to yourself that he’s alive and he’s safe, is overpowering. But you remember what the others said. Patience, time, space. You don’t want to overwhelm him. You set Phantom down on the couch next to him and take a few steps back, keeping a respectful distance.

It’s quiet for a while. You break the silence. “How do you feel?”

He has the hood of his hoodie up, throwing his face into shadow. “Like shit.”

That’s about what you were expecting. You need more detail if you’re going to help, but you don’t want to push him. “Did everything go okay at the hospital?”

His shoulders lift, then fall. You see him grimace. “It was weird. All that stuff they did. The stupid paperwork is over there if you want to look at it.”

“Okay.” Before, when he wasn’t human, you’d have helped yourself. Now – “Do you want me to look at it?”

Another shrug. If he didn’t want you to, he’d say no, right? You pick the folder up off the coffee table and open it to the discharge summary, which is a mistake. The list of injuries Tomura came in with is staggering. Seeing this, you’re amazed they only kept him in for five days. “Well?” Tomura asks.

You set the folder down. “You healed up really fast.”

“There are things wrong with me,” Tomura says. One hand rises to scratch his neck. “My skin is messed up. I’m – allergic.”

“I have allergy medicine for stuff like that. And itch cream.”

“They gave me some.” Tomura still hasn’t taken down his hood. “What did the humans want?”

“They wanted to tell me how to help you adjust,” you say, and Tomura makes a derisive sound. Phantom stirs, whines, and noses closer to him. “What did the ghosts want with you?”

“To explain.” The derision is obvious in Tomura’s voice. “Like I’m stupid or something.”

“You aren’t. They don’t think that,” you say, only to realize that Tomura still probably knows what the other ghosts are thinking better than you do. “They probably don’t want you to make the same mistakes as they did. From what the humans were saying, they all made a lot of mistakes.”

“They almost scared their humans off.” Tomura’s voice goes weirdly flat. “I already did that.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know what I look like. When I saw the picture on the ID, that was the first time.” Tomura seems to sink further into his hoodie, and suddenly you understand why he hasn’t taken down the hood. “No wonder you didn’t want me embodied. You’d have to look at me all the time.”

“Tomura –”

“I just wanted to stay. I didn’t want to go back. I thought it would be the same, but it’s not,” Tomura says. There’s a weird strain in his voice now, one you’ve never heard from him but know intimately yourself. “There are things wrong with me. I’m ugly. You wanted me when I was a ghost and I was powerful, not when I’m human and weak. You won’t even come near me.”

“No,” you say, and Tomura scoffs. “No! When I was talking to the others, they said it’s hard to get used to a human body – stuff might be harder to cope with now that it’s permanent – they said I should give you time and space –”

“I didn’t do this so I could have time and space!” Tomura’s still got enough power to rattle the walls without raising his voice. “I did it so I could – so we –”

His voice breaks. Phantom edges closer to him and he shies away, both hands coming up to cover his face at odd angles. You stand there for a moment, paralyzed by the decision between everything the other ghost friends told you and what Tomura’s saying now, what he’s doing now. But in the end it’s not a decision at all. You hurry around the coffee table, move Phantom to the cushion at the far end of the couch, and sit down right next to Tomura, getting in his space without asking the same way he always does to you. You pry his hands away from his face one at a time, and he fights you. He’s fighting you with a fraction of his strength and you both know it. “Let go. I don’t want you. I don’t want your pity –”

“It’s not pity,” you say. He lets you have one of his hands and you immediately try for the other. “I don’t know what this is like for you. I’m trying to do the right thing, but I should have just asked you what you needed. I can do better.”

“You don’t want to. You don’t want this!” He pulls his hand free of yours to gesture at himself. “I know what you wanted. You wanted –”

“You.” You don’t even have to think before you answer. “I wanted you. I want you.”

He stares at you from between his fingers. You give up on trying to free his hands and press in close against his side. He startles at your touch, but doesn’t shy away. He smells like the hospital. His voice is quiet, shaky, strained. “You liked when I was cold.”

“It was nice. But I’ve got AC. And now I can hold you for as long as I want without getting frostbite.”

“You liked that I got rid of the bugs.”

“I’m still making you get rid of the bugs,” you say, and Tomura makes a sound that’s too watery to be laughter. “But I can get rid of my own, too. I had a whole plan for that hornets’ nest.”

“Your plan sucked.” It did sort of suck, looking back. Tomura’s voice is quieter when he speaks again. “You liked when I was stronger than you.”

“You’re still stronger than me.” You can feel it when you touch him, a faint thread of power vibrating just beneath his skin. “That’s not the important stuff.”

“What is?”

“Everything else,” you say. “You’re still you, Tomura. It might feel different to be in the world like this, but you’re still who you are. That’s who I want. Who I love.”

It’s quiet for a long time. “You liked the way I looked before.”

It’s a weird enough thing to say to startle a laugh out of you. “The way you look now is how you’ve always looked, Tomura. Your hair’s a different color, that’s all.”

“I always looked like this.” Tomura sounds skeptical. “You said I was pretty.”

“You are pretty.” You reach for the edges of his hood and his hands come up, grasping your wrists, holding you still. He holds you there for a few seconds, then lets go, and lets you pull down the hood.

It’s him. Those same features you saw outlined in steam in the bathroom, on your back porch with the ashes of a hornets’ nest at his feet. The same red eyes that have watched you for almost two years, that have catalogued every inch of you, that looked up into yours after the gateway to the world between slammed shut for the last time. You’ve seen all his expressions before, except this one: The way he looks when he’s been crying. As you watch, his pupils open and shut, and more tears slip down his cheeks.

You scramble to wipe them away, cradling his face in your hands. He flinches when your palm gently meets his cheek, and you draw back, only for him to catch your wrist and press your hand hard against his skin. That feels normal enough to make you smile. Tomura’s never been shy about pulling you around. “You’re pretty,” you say again. “You’ve never looked any different than this. I like it. I don’t care if you do. I don’t care about anything except that you’re home.”

“But –”

“The next words out of your mouth had better not be ‘Dabi said’.”

An aggrieved silence falls, and you find yourself struggling not to laugh. It feels normal. It feels like any weird little argument you and Tomura have had, except that he can’t dematerialize to teach you a lesson and you can’t end the fight just by stepping outside. “You love me,” Tomura ventures after a while. “Like this?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say. “Of course I do.”

Tomura knocks you over a second later.

Cuddling on the couch is more complicated than it used to be, mainly because Tomura’s a long way from being used to what touch feels like in a truly human form and he can’t get comfortable the way he usually would. If he can barely stand to stretch out on top of you, there’s no way he can handle kissing, and you can tell that the overload of sensation doesn’t turn him on so much as it fries his brain. Not that that stops him from trying to kiss you more. “Take it easy,” you say. “You just got home. I don’t want to take you back to the hospital because you tried to kiss me and had a heart attack.”

“That doesn’t happen,” Tomura says with confidence. Then, as you watch, you see him start to doubt himself. Some how he’s less sure about humans now that he is one. “Does it?”

“It could.” You remember something from a few days ago about how too much exertion on not enough calories could damage Tomura’s heart, and he still feels way too thin. “Can you reach your discharge papers? I want to read them.”

He reaches out to grab them from the coffee table, but it’s ever so slightly too far away. Before he’d dematerialize one hand, snatch them, and bring them back. Now he just glares at them and keeps glaring – and as you watch in some mix of surprise and horror, the folder lifts from the table and drops to the ground next to the couch.

Tomura realizes you’re staring at him and smirks. “I never said all my powers were gone.”

Now that he’s realized you still love him, he’s cocky, but you’re not annoyed about it. You’re not going to forget what it was like when you got home, what it was like to see him cry, and you’re not dumb enough to think today will be the last time it comes up. Tomura flops down again, his head against your chest, and you pick up his discharge papers and flip through them. Sure enough, there’s one specific instruction highlighted and in bold type. “No intense physical activity until you’re cleared by a doctor,” you say. Tomura scowls. You keep reading. “Your follow-up’s in two weeks. It’s not that long.”

“Maybe if we go slow –”

“No.” You set the papers down and trace over one tendon in his neck, wincing as he twitches and writhes and digs his knees and elbows into every soft body part you possess. He’s lying on top of all your stitches, and it’s starting to hurt. “You can barely handle being touched at all right now. I’m not going to send you back to the hospital and I’m not going to melt your brain.”

“It’s my brain. I get to decide –”

“You don’t get to leave me,” you say, and Tomura looks up, startled. “Two weeks.”

Tomura studies you for a moment. Then he flops down again. “Fine. Two weeks. But then I get to – what happened? Why did you make that noise?”

You tried not to. Really. But one of the too-prominent points of Tomura’s ribcage just dug directly into one of your largest wounds, and you think you might have popped a stitch. Tomura sits up, pulls you with him, starts yanking at your shirt. “I want to see. Let me see –”

Your shirt turns to dust in an instant. You didn’t realize Tomura could do that to things that weren’t alive, and you sit there, bemused. Tomura is staring at you, eyes blazing with fury. “My marks,” he says, and you nod. It occurs to you that this is the first time he’s seen the extent of your injuries. “How did he take them out?”

“One at a time. With a knife.” You try to make light of it, try to sound like it isn’t haunting you, like waking up in a hospital bed after it was all over didn’t scare you so badly that you had to be sedated. “Not my best Monday ever.”

“Don’t joke about it.” Tomura’s voice is hard. “He hurt you so much you wanted to die. I should have killed him slower. It should have taken exactly as long as this did.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to cover up the worst of the wounds. The doctors who treated you had decent poker faces, but since you’ve gotten home, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid getting a good look at what happened. Tomura’s expression as he looks at you tells you everything you need to know about how bad it is. “I haven’t even had them for a week yet,” you say. Your voice sounds thin. “They won’t look like this forever.”

Tomura’s jaw clenches. “I don’t care what they look like. I care that they hurt.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You sit there numbly and Tomura watches you, clearly thinking something over but not doing it, whatever it is. “I can’t,” he starts frustrated. “I can’t do the thing I want to do anymore. When I wasn’t materialized I could –”

He makes a gesture, and suddenly you understand what he means. You crawl forward across the couch into his arms, and he wraps himself around you. It’s not like it was before. He can’t enfold you completely like he used to, fitting like a second skin. But now you’ve got something solid to lean against, someone who’s warm like you are, someone who maybe understands how you feel about this whole thing. Tomura’s hugs were always a little awkward, even when he was fully materialized. He didn’t understand what was comfortable and what wasn’t, why you’d be at ease in one position but not in another, and he’d complain when you tried to adjust. Tomura’s not complaining now. He adjusts with you, and once you’re settled, you try not to move too much. It’s weird. But it’s the kind of weird you can get used to.

“You smell nice,” Tomura says after a little while. He unwraps one arm from around you and sniffs his own armpit. Then he makes a face. “I smell weird.”

“You smell like the hospital,” you say. “We can fix that. Want to shower?”

Tomura gives you a suspicious look. “I’m not allowed in the bathroom while you’re in there.”

“That was before.” You think over the events of the last week. He’s already seen you naked. The two of you have had sex. He’s your boyfriend, and he’s human. Whatever objections you had, they aren’t valid anymore. “The rules still apply if either of us is using the toilet, but we can shower together. If you want. Do you want to?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says, which means yes. “I thought you’d never let me.”

There are a lot of things you thought would never happen, and a lot of them happened in the last week. You pull yourself out of Tomura’s arms reluctantly and lead him up the stairs.

You check over your wound care instructions and Tomura’s as he gets undressed. Everything looks about the same for both of you. You also take the opportunity to go over the list of known allergens the doctors gave you yesterday. Almost all your soaps and shower products meet the criteria already – low to no scent, hypoallergenic, no harsh chemicals. You set out an extra towel and an extra sponge and lay down a bath mat, then turn on the water.

Since you met Tomura you’ve been taking hot showers, but they can be hard on skin, and you don’t want Tomura to faint. You opt for warm water instead, take off your own clothes, and inspect your stitches for a moment before stepping into the shower. The spot Tomura elbowed by accident looks unhappy, but the coarse black stitches haven’t come undone. Seeing them makes you feel sick. You look away and step into the shower, leaving the door cracked for Tomura to follow you in.

There’s room for both of you inside, but it’s a close fit. You have a feeling that you and Tomura will be having a discussion about the impracticality of shower sex at some point in the future, but that’s not for today. You switch positions carefully with Tomura so that he’s under the majority of the spray and watch him startle as it patters against his skin. You wonder what he’s thinking.

You’ve spent a lot of time wondering what Tomura’s thinking since you met him, but it occurs to you that you can ask. “What’s going on up there?”

“It’s – so much. Loud. But not loud. It feels like – a lot.” Tomura’s hair is plastered to his face from the water. He pushes it out of his eyes. “I’m fine. I don’t want to get out.”

“We won’t get out,” you promise. “Take the time you need.”

He twists this way and that under the spray, working on getting used to it. He’s got stitches, too, all of them taken with the same coarse thread as yours. “Now what?”

You pick up a bottle of shampoo. The mild kind. “Put this in your hair and sort of scrub it around, then rinse it out,” you explain. Tomura brushes his hair out of his eyes again, looking vaguely skeptical. “Or I can do it for you.”

“You.”

You should have known he’d answer like that. He’s got enough of a height advantage on you that you’re going to need him to sit down for this to work, and there are an awkward few minutes while the two of you get settled. You lean back against the wall, and Tomura leans back against your chest, head tipped forward. “Make sure you close your eyes,” you say. “This will sting if it gets in them.”

Tomura nods without looking up. You pour some shampoo into your hand and get to work.

His hair is tangled, like always. Worse than always, because he’s been materialized this entire time, and he hasn’t brushed it at all. You forget about washing his hair for a second in favor of detangling it, and Tomura slumps back against you. “You’re still doing that now that I’m here all the time? I thought you’d stop.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Tomura says quickly. You return your attention to the knot you’re working through. “I thought it was just because I was a ghost.”

Huh. “What other things do you think I was only doing because you were a ghost?”

The answer, it turns out, is a lot of things. If Tomura had asked any of the other ghosts about them, he wouldn’t have had to worry, but they probably would have told him not to be stupid, which is probably why he didn’t ask. No wonder he was upset when you got back, if he thought he was losing so many things – sleeping on top of you, sitting on your lap, having his hair played with, being held. He names gesture after gesture as you untangle his hair, and you reassure him about each one.

Once you’ve worked through all the knots, you move on to washing Tomura’s hair in earnest. You don’t think you’re doing a very good job, but when your fingers slow their progress, Tomura complains in a voice that sounds distinctly sleepy. “Don’t. It’s nice.”

You add conditioner, too. Tomura probably won’t bother with it in the future, but you might as well give him soft hair while you can get away with it. Then you shake him out of relaxation and help him to his feet to wash off. He’s sort of floppy when he’s tired, and although you can already tell that it’ll annoy you sometimes, right now it’s just cute. There’s no way you’re telling him he’s cute. You hand him a sponge and some soap and put him in charge of washing his front. You’ll take care of his back.

The fight left Tomura beaten up all over, but his back took a lot of damage while he was caught between the living world and the world between, and it’s where the majority of his stitches are. Even looking at them upsets you. You can’t help but think that if you’d been faster to get to him, if you’d been stronger, if you’d called the others to help you instead of waiting for them to come on their own, he wouldn’t have spent so long trapped between worlds. He wouldn’t have been hurt like this. But that’s only the last set of mistakes you made. If you’d killed his conjurer like you meant to, he’d still be a ghost, and there’d be no marks on him at all.

“Hey.” Tomura glances over his shoulder at you, and you realize that your hands have gone still. You duck closer, hiding your face, and go back to washing, but Tomura’s not fooled. You keep forgetting, somehow, that he knows you as well as you know him. “Don’t make that face. You’re just a human. What were you supposed to do?”

“Kill him.” Your voice wavers. “So you could be human because you wanted to. Not because you didn’t have a choice.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He turns to face you, and when you don’t look up, his hand rises to hold your jaw and tilt it upward. “If I was just doing it to avoid going back, it wouldn’t have worked. I wanted to be like this.”

You know that, but – “I wish I hadn’t let you get hurt.”

“Yeah, and I wish I hadn’t let my conjurer torture you.” Tomura gives you a few seconds of protesting that characterization of events before he springs his trap. “See how dumb it sounds when I say it? It sounds dumber from you, since you’re the human and it wasn’t even your job. You told me the stupid plan the others had. You were never supposed to do it.”

He pauses for a moment. “I guess it would have worked if I’d been materialized, though. Dabi saw you stab him. He said it was kind of hot.”

Your mind goes sort of blank at the sheer weirdness of that statement. “And he’s still alive because?”

“I can kill him whenever I want to,” Tomura says. He turns away again, and you go back to washing off the unstitched parts of his skin, shaking your head in bemusement. “I bet it was really hot.”

Tomura thinks the fact that you ran his conjurer through with a fire poker is hot. That’s probably a good thing, because you’re not sorry you did it. You rest your forehead against the back of his neck for a second, resisting the urge to kiss him, and note that his pale skin is turning pink and flushed from the water. The water’s not that warm. You should probably get him out of here sooner rather than later. Inko warned you that newly embodied ghosts aren’t aware of the physical sensations that proceed things like throwing up or passing out, and you’d really prefer for Tomura not to faint in here.

Tomura complains about having to get out, but you remind him that showering is something humans have to do regularly and shoo him out anyway. You stay in a little longer to wash up, then step out into a mildly steamy bathroom. For a moment you’re cast back into the memory of the first time you saw Tomura face to face – in this bathroom, outlined by the steam, looking you up and down with a smile you couldn’t identify as creepy or not. Thinking about it now, you know it wasn’t creepy. He was proud of himself for figuring out how to make himself visible, proud that you could see him at last. Standing here more than a year later, it’s hard to believe how much has changed.

There are puddles of water down the hall on the way to the bedroom, evidence that while Tomura’s figured out showering, he hasn’t figured out drying off. When you step into your room, you find more evidence in the form of a pile of wet clothes discarded on the ground. Jin’s mom said that the ghosts have to learn by experience sometimes. You glance towards the bed and find Tomura sitting on it, dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants of unknown provenance and – “Um, is that my shirt?”

“Yeah.” Tomura gives you that dumbest-person-ever look. You’re not thrilled to see that it’s survived his embodiment. “It was right there. It fits.”

You buy your pajama shirts almost comically oversized, and Tomura’s not all that much taller than you. Something that’s huge on you is still pretty big on him. It fits, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Didn’t the others give you clothes?”

“Yeah. They didn’t smell right.” Tomura pulls the collar of the shirt up over his nose and mouth and breathes in. “This one smells like you.”

You were never into stealing your boyfriend’s hoodies, back when you had human boyfriends. You don’t love wearing other people’s clothes. But apparently there has to be at least one clothing thief in every relationship, and Tomura’s taken over the role. Tomura yawns so widely that his jaw pops, then recoils. “What was that? Why did I do that?”

“That’s a yawn. You’re tired.” You were thinking about street clothes, but just like you did the last time you and Tomura were in this room together, you opt for pajamas instead. “I could go for a nap, too.”

You climb into bed on your usual side, leaving the door cracked open for Phantom in case she comes up, and Tomura gets awkwardly into bed on the other side. “How do I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep.”

Right – he’s spent the last week either in an induced coma or heavily sedated. He hasn’t had the chance yet to fall asleep naturally. “Get comfortable,” you say, and Tomura, semi-predictably, abandons his side of the bed in favor of getting in your personal space. “Now close your eyes. You’re tired, so I bet your eyelids feel kind of heavy, right? Let them close. Think about stuff if you want to think about it, or don’t think about anything. It’ll happen on its own.”

“That sounds too easy,” Tomura mumbles, half-asleep already. “Sometimes it takes you forever.”

“Sometimes it’s harder than others,” you admit. “It’s pretty easy right now. Just relax.”

Tomura mumbles something else, but you can feel the tension leaving his body, until he’s relaxed save for the icy thread of ghostly power running through him. It’s faint, but you have the sense that that’s illusory, at least a little bit. Tomura might be permanently embodied now, but he’s the most powerful of the embodied ghosts, and probably still the least human. He can’t dematerialize anymore and he needs to eat and sleep, but it feels likely that the effect of his powers on your daily life won’t change too much.

But you can figure that out later. Right now he’s asleep next to you, his red eyes closed, his lips parted slightly, warm and breathing and undeniably alive. The same kind of alive as you are, finally. For good.

You shift a little closer to him, and his arm wraps around you tightly. That’s fine with you. You close your eyes and fall asleep almost as fast as he did.

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of your phone buzzing, startling you out of a nightmare. You have all kinds of material for nightmares now, and your subconscious has been mixing and matching it in increasingly horrible combinations for the last few nights – or afternoons, since you can tell by the light coming through the window that sunset is a ways off. You reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction, and Tomura’s arms tighten around you. He sounds like he’s mostly asleep when he speaks. “No.”

“I’m not leaving,” you say. You get ahold of your phone and flip it to silent before reading the texts. They’re from Shinsou.

Shinsou: are u guys coming or not

Shinsou: everybody else is

Shinsou: Eri says you have to or she’ll cry

Shinsou: she says Tomura promised

She mentioned something about that earlier. You shake Tomura’s shoulder. “Did you promise Eri you’d come to the party?”

“No.” There’s a pause. “She wouldn’t leave until I said yes.”

Great. “How much do you care about making her cry?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura mumbles. You wait. “She backed me up in the fight. I owe her.”

“So we have to go,” you realize. The idea is less upsetting to you now than it was when you first heard about it, namely because you just had a nightmare and you don’t want to go back to bed. You text Shinsou back. Your dad said it’s a costume party. Do we have to have costumes?

Yeah. Shinsou sends a shrugging emoji. Not serious ones. One of my dads is going all out and the other one just has cat ears on.

Aizawa can get away with just cat ears – he’s the one hosting the party. You and Tomura are going to have to come up with something a little better. Shinsou texts again. It starts in an hour. Be there. You really don’t want Eri to cry.

You’d feel really bad making Eri cry, especially now that you remember her helping Tomura during the fight – and saving your life just beforehand. You start to sit up, and Tomura drags you back down. “No. I like sleeping. I want to sleep.”

“Humans sleep every night,” you remind him. “You can go back to sleep later. Right now we have to go to a party.”

It takes a while to drag Tomura out of bed – twenty minutes at least, leaving you with forty minutes to come up with some kind of costume. You get in your own way a little bit when you realize how cute Tomura looks with bedhead, then order yourself to pull it together. Tomura can’t shadow you as closely as he did when he could dematerialize, but he still gives it his best shot, and you two end up colliding and tripping on each other – and on Phantom – way more than is actually necessary. After ransacking your house for costume ideas and coming up with nothing, you finally turn to Google for help.

Tomura reads over your shoulder. “These are dumb. I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary.”

“It is,” you say. You decide to get into the part of Halloween that’s supposed to be sexy later – later, as in next year. Or never. “This is the wrong neighborhood for scary, though. No matter what I dress up as, I won’t be scarier than everybody else who lives here.”

And that’s when it clicks for you, oddly enough – it clicks, and you can’t help but laugh. The perfect low-effort Halloween costume. How did you not think of it before? Tomura eyes you suspiciously. “Why are you laughing?”

“I have an idea. It might get us kicked out.”

“If we get kicked out, we can come back and go to sleep again,” Tomura says. Introducing Tomura to the concept of naptime may have been a mistake. “What is it?”

You head for the stairs, and the linen closet. “You’ll see.”

It takes you approximately two seconds to assemble the first costume, and once you do, you show Tomura. It occurs to you way too late that he might think it’s offensive. But once he realizes what you are, he cracks up laughing – then wincing, as the laughter strains the stitches on his back. “They’re going to hate it,” he says. “I bet they won’t even let us in.”

“If they don’t let us in, then we get to go home right away.” You gesture at the linen closet. “Pick your poison.”

It takes you a few more minutes to leave, mostly because Tomura insists on bringing Phantom, and Phantom needs a costume, too. She’s a lot less into her costume than you and Tomura are. She keeps wiggling out of it, and while Tomura tries to lure her back under the sheet, you peer out the front window. The street still looks like hell. Everybody’s houses are still at least partially wrecked. If you drove past this neighborhood, not knowing anything about who lives here and why this happened, you’d avoid it like the plague.

You watch as Keigo and Dabi and Natsu leave their house. Natsu looks like he’s wearing normal clothes, but Keigo has a fake halo and Dabi has a pair of devil horns on. It occurs to you that Dabi might be the only other person in the neighborhood who thinks your costume is funny.

“I got her to wear it,” Tomura says, and you turn to look. There’s Phantom, wearing a flower-patterned pillowcase with holes cut out for her ears, eyes, and nose – and there’s Tomura, wearing a grey sheet over her head with holes cut out so he can see. “I think she’s mad at me.”

“She’s not mad,” you say. You’re pretty sure she’ll forgive you both when she realizes you’re headed over to Aizawa’s house. Shinsou is probably her favorite person other than Tomura. “You look pretty.”

Tomura gives you a once-over. Your sheet is lavender, and you accessorized with a pair of reading glasses you accidentally stole from Mr. Yagi’s office and never gave back. “Cute,” he decides. “The sooner they kick us out, the sooner we can come back.”

He heads for the door, opens it, and steps outside. You gather up Phantom’s leash and follow him onto the porch. When you turn to lock the door, Tomura stops you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, the way they do when he’s smiling creepily on purpose. “Don’t bother,” he says. “This neighborhood is still mine.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You tuck your keys back into your pocket and make your way down the front steps, to the front gate, and out onto the sidewalk. It’s not until you hear the gate’s hinges creak open again that you realize Tomura hasn’t followed you. You turn back. “Tomura?”

Tomura’s hesitating on the far side of the property line. You can’t figure out why. He’s left before. He was away from the house for five days – but not by choice. The ambulance took him away and the other ghosts brought him back, but in all the time since he was summoned, Tomura’s never left the property of his own free will. You hold out the hand that isn’t grasping Phantom’s leash, and he comes closer to take it. His hand is warm.

Warm, and a little sweaty. He’s nervous. “We don’t have to go to this thing,” you tell him. “You just got home today. It’s a lot. If you’d rather stay home, we can.”

“You want to go.”

“I think it might be fun.” Mostly you want to see what Hizashi does when you roll up to his party dressed like the world’s most stereotypical, low-budget ghost. “But I still like it’s best when it’s just us. If you don’t want to go, we won’t. I’m not leaving you.”

“Because you love me,” Tomura says, almost hesitantly. You nod. “I love you, too.”

It’s a good thing you’ve got the sheet on. You’re not sure you want Tomura to see the goofy smile you’re wearing. Tomura raises his free hand and touches your mouth through the sheet, feeling along the curve of it until you dare to kiss the tips of his fingers. He startles, and you remember the touch sensitivity. It’s fine when he’s the one initiating contact, since he’s the one who decides what he can handle, but you need to be careful. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He kisses you.

It’s not a great kiss, given that there are two layers of cotton between your mouth and his, but you’ll take it. You’ve always been willing to take what you can get from Tomura, and you’ve gotten more than you ever expected. It came at a price, sure. You’ll be paying that price in one way and another for the rest of your life, but it’s worth it. It would be worth it if Tomura never crossed the property line again.

But Tomura draws away from you without letting go of your hand and steps forward. You step back to give him space, and watch as he sets one foot over the line and onto the sidewalk, and then the other. And all at once, for the first time in a hundred and ten years, there’s nothing wrong with your house at all.

The End

[lorre-verie]

「ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ ᴛᴇᴇɴꜱ (ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴀᴜ)」

title for those that use a screen reader:

Dates with the Avatar Teens (Modern AU)

bit of context: this is when you both are dating in highschool so everyones like 17-18

— courtesy of lorre-verie (thats me)

masterlist

note: for some reason (at least on my screen) the images appear wonky and not in line, so if that happens to u im so sorry idk how to fix it 😭

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌

I feel like you guys could go on a couple different dates depending on what you like. His favourite kind of dates would be anything including outdoor physical activity, swimming on the beach, (indoor) rock climbing, bungee jumping, mini road trips (would have his license) even just a simple walk along the forest. If you aren’t as adventurous as him but are still willing to try it out just cause he likes it, he would be so appreciative of you and you guys would have literally so much fun. Other dates are simply watching tv shows together, going to fun 3d picture museums, shopping at the mall. He’s also willing to try anything you want to try and go to any place you want to visit. He's literally perfect i love him so much but he's dead so

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈

i don’t feel like she’s the type of person to want to go on dates specifically (she wouldn't label it as a date), but you guys hang out often at each other’s places and that's enough for her personally, but in case you do want to go out somewhere special she probably will agree. if it was up to her she’d take you to her favourite river or a lake and you guys could sit on the pier and just talk about life, doubling over with laughter whenever either of you cracks a funny joke. that’s her type of date. but again she's up for anything else as long as its with you <3 would definitely take you to her favourite thrift shop and you guys could get cute matching couple outfits. In case you guys go anywhere picturesque she’s the BEST photographer, knows all the angles and all the poses, super still hands when she takes the photos and none of them are ever less than flawless.

𝐋𝐎'𝐀𝐊

you guys would definitely go to the movies (works there part time and uses his worker privileges to get free popcorn and drinks), arcade, skateboarding park, roller skate park, literally anything and everything fun. also enjoys staying in and laying in bed together just scrolling on tiktok (and making tiktoks with each other). during these dates he would take photos of you and post it on his secret instagram account titled mypookiey/n that kiri, teyam, aonung, rotxo and you follow (reya not included cause I feel like if he didn’t like tsireya romantically he’d be kinda shy to talk to her since she’s like the popular girl and he considers himself an outcast). you guys record music covers together and he loves editing them cause he loves hearing your voice (gets so giddy inside, totally has a shy small smile on his face when u sing he's so cute AGHHHH)

𝐀𝐎'𝐍𝐔𝐍𝐆

amusement park dates WOOO you’d both have so much fun. riding roller coasters, playing the mini games, going into the photo booths, buying cotton candy, couple selfies on the ferris wheel, never a dull moment with this guy. If he sees a giant teddy bear as a prize for a minigame he would get you it in one try. often invites you to be front row at his basketball games and in case you’re interested in learning he would not hesitate to teach you the best he could (would also mock you for not being as good as him). He holds your hand everywhere (in case ur not good with PDA he wouldn’t but i think we can all agree his love language is physical touch so….would be a very hard time for him). In case you’re struggling with maths he would definitely tutor you, you could kinda consider that a date??? I guess????

𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐗𝐎

cafe, library, studying dates. that and also you both go to the mall together. He’s very funny and can make a joke out of anything, any “boring” date he can turn right around. Since he’s good with his words definitely tries to embarrass you in public by reading out a poem dedicated to you that he made on the spot, earning a smack on the back of the head from you. He also does this thing where he takes you to check out the toy sections in shops and you both make fun of the price together because what the hell why is a little pony plushie like 25 bucks?? he also loves taking couple photos together

𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐀

you guys eat together, go to cute cafes, picnics in the park, also enjoy laying in bed and scrolling through tik tok together. window shopping is a must, always tries out cute outfits and asks you for your opinion on them, and also fixes together pieces for you to wear. you guys do cute ass stuff like interlocking pinkies and then taking photos of said pinkies and posting it on your stories. dog cafes, cat cafes, and bird cafes are also great. also loves doing sleepovers, always insists on sleeping in a sleeping bag no matter if a bed is available or not because it's part of the fun. she will also do your skincare with or without you asking. 

Literally guess who i had the easiest time writing for is and who i struggled with the most bet u cant get it right. i just wanted 2 post this just because im feeling guilty as hell cause it's been a week and there's minimal progress on the neteyam series…we’re getting there i promise guys. reblogs and comments are most appreciated, it lets me know whether the content im putting out is actually good or not 😭

In case u’re interested u can check out my masterlist for more stuff like this (literally only one other modern au thing but i do have other fics) tysm and have a gorgeous day!

[impossiblesuitcase]

I know this type of fic will seem strange, but do you remember where Cinder in the first book says that everyone will be aware of what Kai does, and that he will forget her, if this happened as an alternate universe, do you really believe that Kai forgot? of it, or remember it as nostalgia for what could have been as couple

Thanks your for your answer

I intended for this to be a five sentence response. Ha.

(Remember?)

He doesn’t remember her.

Granted, he doesn’t even remember what it feels like to take a full, unstrained breath. Kai is a busy teenager, a grieving son, an ill-prepared emperor and then the happiest widower alive. He can’t pretend to not be overjoyed by his wife’s untimely passing after her brief but bloody one-year stint as empress. The Earthen population didn’t seem to mind much either when the evil Lunar queen was assassinated in her bed by a group of revolting malcontents.

Kai only remembers her when the storm takes mercy on them and calms. The girl at the marketplace. Who’d never worn the gloves he’d given her to the ball she hadn’t attended. The brown eyes he’d never seen again. As the New Beijing Market celebrates a new era of peace with streamers and lanterns and sticky buns, Kai is pulling on his grey hoodie and weaving through the crowds to an unmarked booth. Instead he finds the musty, dark store replaced by a coffeé vendor. The nearby sellers tell him the young mechanic skipped town.

(Kai does remember her joking prod in the elevator, offering up that she was planning to run away to Europe. Now, Kai doesn’t think it was all that much of a joke.)

He searches for her, briefly. Her name turns up no more net results than what had been there the first time he’d sought her services. In checking government records he learns that her guardian reported the disappearance, inciting a police investigation. He has his own staff put on the case, who probably interpret this as a conscientious initiative to apprehend a fugitive as any responsible emperor would. 

Reading the conclusions from the fruitless search by his agents, this is where Kai learns that Linh Cinder is a cyborg.

Something blankets him. Not...disgust or revulsion. Thick, encompassing understanding. He’s near laughter when it strikes him precisely between his third and fourth ribs because he knows that it doesn’t matter if he finds her.

The gloves. The obfuscation. A cyborg, an emperor. This is why she rejected him.

After this, the expressed need to find find find her feels vain. Find her and what? Tell her that—although he likes her—a cyborg would never be accepted by the public as his partner? Then he’d be tearing her away from whatever sanctuary she’s found herself in and subjecting her to capture by the authorities. Because she has cut out her ID chip—illegal. Fled the country without a permit—illegal. Disobeyed orders from her guardian—illegal for cyborgs. Whatever Imperial pardon he could try to extend would be nullified by the Cyborg Protection Act.

It doesn’t matter. She hasn’t been found. He’s no luck at searching for things anyway. That’s why he gave up on Selene. What’s one more thing to give up on?

So Kai doesn’t remember her. But he does revise the Cyborg Protection Act. He is appalled to discover that—despite having Levana’s antidote in his tenuous possession—the cyborg draft is still in operation. Luna is not a trustworthy government under regent Sybil Mira, they fearmonger. They might still need to develop an antidote of their own, they reason.

Both Earth and Luna are barely refraining from seeking blood as it is. After Levana was assassinated, Luna declared full-scale war on Earth, killing hundreds of thousands. Earth retaliated by detonating bombs on the craters of the moon, threatening that next time they wouldn’t spare the inhabited domes. The ceasefire went as follows: Luna and Earth would not intermingle. Luna would provide Earth with the Letumosis antidote in exchange for Earth sending Luna their desperately-needed supplies. No one deemed this agreement as trustworthy. No one had better ideas.

His decision to end the draft is met with mixed response. Kai just secretly hopes that Cinder is watching, holed up in her new musty, dark booth in her new European city with a flicker of pride.

Years past. Funnily enough, Kai learns that—at some point—pretending to forget and forgetting are not so dissimilar.

But sometimes he sees a malfunctioning android down a palace hall and remembers her steady gloved hands on Nainsi. Sees a woman with almost the right shade of brown in her hair and eyes and skin but never close enough. Yet each time, he collects himself, shakes his head and doesn’t give in, and when he marries a second time to a woman he actually wants to be with, his wife’s radiant smile expels any romantic thought of any other girl that has ever crossed his mind.

— — — 

Fourteen years. That’s how long it takes for his loose threads to finally fray. Kai is in his office being briefed by Torin for an upcoming public statement by his cabinet. It has taken fourteen years after Levana’s death to fully uncover all the scrupulously concealed records of the atrocities she committed. As former empress, her crimes have to be reported by the Eastern Commonwealth, though no reasonably-minded Earthen would attribute her crimes to anyone but her own wicked self.

This report intrigues him. It’s not the usual analytics of Levana’s sins against the Earthen public, rather a detailed list of all the Lunars she victimised.

“Why are we reporting this?” Kai asks Torin, keeping his daughter from bouncing off his lap with steady hands. “What Levana did to the Lunar citizenry is beyond our scope of responsibility.”

“Not those on Luna, Your Majesty,” Torin informs. “This report refers to the illegal Lunar refugees who were hiding on Earth.”

Kai vaguely recalls Levana screeching once about how she would kill all the Lunars he had insubordinately smuggled into the country. He hadn’t believed that there were any Lunars on Earth at that naïve eighteen, but a thirty-three-year-old Kai is not surprised. He scrolls past the initial pages of exposition and gets right to the list of victims. He wants a number. How many Lunars were there really on Earth? That day on the balcony, when Levana had claimed that there had been a Lunar among those protestors—had it been true?

It’s page eight that he sees her name.

Linh Cinder. Cyborg. Lunar. Licensed mechanic in New Beijing. Records found to be falsified. True age unknown. True name unknown. Date of immigration unknown.

Cyborg. Lunar.

Kai’s hands are shaking. He places his daughter on the ground. “Torin,” he wheezes, “take her to her mother.”

His daughter’s soft, “Daddy? Was wrong?” goes unanswered.

Once they’ve left the room, Kai is alone with the horror lying in his hands. He clicks on her profile and a full page with her name and portrait appears. It’s a mugshot, but without the official stamp of the Earthen Union law enforcement, he knows it was Levana’s own team of minions doing the arresting. Her hair is loose, glossy and slick. Her eyes defiant but sunken into dark sockets. Her cheeks are full. She was not starving, wasting away in poverty. Evidently she did manage to make a life for herself on the run.

The biography is short. Linh was reported missing by her guardian on 28 August 126 T.E. at 08:31. CCTV footage shows her driving a second-era automobile from New Beijing to France over the course of 8 days. Linh hid in Nice for 7 months using a false ID chip and started a small mechanic business. Records of an apartment lease were found under the false identity. She was discovered by Lunar authorities when a mandatory Letumosis blood test identified Lunar genealogy in her genome. She was swiftly sentenced and executed without a trial on an unknown date for crimes of illegal departure from Luna.

That’s it. The only information. It limns a tale of another victim of the tyrant with not a stroke of sympathy. Kai thrusts down the port, clawing his hands through his hair.

Cyborg. Lunar. Executed.

He calls his wife.

The line clicks immediately. “Honey, is everything okay?” asks his wife, concern cooling her timbre. “Torin said you were all out of sorts.”

His words are faint. “Hey, love, do you remember that girl I liked before you?”

He can hear her smile. “The mechanic?”

“Yeah.”

"What about her?" her voice heaves and Kai hears a small giggle; Torin has brought their daughter back to their quarters. His wife is picking up the heavy three-year-old.

He has no strength to censor himself, even with young ears present. “She’s dead. Levana killed her.”

A long silence. The thread being pulled, pulled, pulled as the fraying creeps up to the heart of it. The girl whispers to her mother, “who Mummy? Who’s Daddy talking ‘bout?”

Her mother doesn’t explain. “Oh, love, I’m so sorry,” she consoles plaintively in that genuine lilt he knows is sincere. His superlatively gracious wife has never judged him for his grief over the lost cyborg, for regretting he couldn’t help the troubled young girl from a bad home. Never has she assigned ulterior motives of him mourning ‘the one that got away’ in some jealous plea for validation. 

He says nothing. He had forgotten her brown eyes, her smile and her gloves. The sarcasm and the pessimism. Each detail had slipped away and now a single photo, an unuttered apology, is trying to resuscitate the dead.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Kai reclaims his port and returns to the cover page. It’s entitled: A Comprehensive Account of the Genocide of Lunar Refugees by Queen Levana Blackburn: Names and Implications.

A name. An implication. That’s all she’d be, immortalised in a forgettable list. After the cover page, a number is bolded.

3,582.

The number of Lunar victims. Miniscule compared to Earth’s population. Cinder was almost certainly the only Lunar Cyborg on the list. An oddity. A friendly statistical anomaly.

Never meant to exist. Always meant to be out of reach.

“Kai?”

“It’ll be fine,” he promises, convincing himself of it. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?” she repeats.

That picture is burnt in his retinas; Cinder, forever sixteen. He, now so much older. He doesn’t mourn a lost love. He didn’t love her; he didn’t know her. He mourns an abandoned child who never even knew that someone was looking for her.

Kai exhales slowly and rests his port on the desk next to his wedding photo and his father's signet ring. 

“I’ll be fine,” he affirms, “You know, I don’t really remember her.”

— — — 

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @icarusignite @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @vincentvangothic @bakergirl13 @wassupnye @linh-cindy @therealkaidertrash21

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Happy birthday love!! (Or belated birthday)🩷🩷

Satoru gojo, funny, "You landed in jail how?" (Maybe featuring nanami)

Ryomen sukuna, funny, "You look really thirsty, have you considered drinking water?" 🌶

Whichever sparks your interest 🩷

thank you so much!!! 💙💙💙 For this one, I went with the Gojo Nanami request, only because another person gave the exact request for Ryomen (Which, Is coming I swear!) Also, because the idea of Gojo bailing Nanami of all people out of jail is so funny to me.

Now Presenting...

Starring: Nanami Kento and Satoru Gojo

“Come on Satoru, pick up..” You muttered softly, nervously tapping your own shoulder. “I only get one of these..” The ringing of the phone seemed to go on forever, until finally,

“Hello?” Satoru answered, though, questioned is the better verb to use here. The man was more confused than a boomer trying to use twitter.

“Hey, Gojo! How ya doing? I hope I didn’t wake you.” You laughed nervously, trying to ease our way into what you were about to say.

“Y/n why the fuck are you in jail?” He asked, passing at least half of his confusion onto you.

“Wait, how did you know I was in holding?!” you asked, pulling the bottom of the receiver close to your face and stepping closer to the phone booth, as if sharing a secret.

“The operator told me the call was coming from the prison, I had to accept the charges.” He informed you. Oh.

“Huh, I didn’t know it did that.” You admitted.

“That's why they asked you to say your name Y/n. so they could tell me who was calling from, ya know, jail.” Oh. 

“Is that why they had me say my name? I thought it was so they had a record of it to prove I got my call.” Which, is not a bad theory to be fair!

“You’re so drunk.” Satoru almost laughed, starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“Yes I am!” You proudly announced, “And I have to pee really bad, there is no bathroom here, just a toilet. You should come get me. Fast.”

“You want me to come bail you out?” Satoru chuckled, finally starting to wake up, “With what money?”

“The money from the bail fund you keep for when shit like this happens!”

“I regret telling you about that, you know. It wasn’t an invitation to get locked up!”

“If it’s not an invitation, then why have it?” You challenged. Satoru shook his head even though you couldn't see it. He was grinning though. He knew who his friends were. 

“Whatever. I’m going to call Nanami and pick him up on the way, he’s probably the guy you want dealing with the cops.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Kento is here with me!” You cheerfully announced. 

“Hi Satoru!” Nanami yelled in the background from the holding cell. Gojo expected a lot of things when he got the inevitable ‘I’m in jail’ call from you, but a Nanami Kento guest appearance was not one of those things.

“What?! Why is Nanami there?!” 

“He punched a cop.”

“He what?!”

“He. Puched. A. Cop.” You said, loudly and slowly, being sure to enunciate every word. Sometimes you really had to spell it out for the strongest. “Hey Satoru, I gotta go- this pig is oinking at me to get back in the cell-”

“Wait, I-”

“Byyyeee!! Please come soon!” You sang, the line going dead before Gojo could answer any of the questions he had. Kento Nanami Punched a fucking cop?!

🚨🚨🚨

“Are you here to pick up the two drunkards!?” A particularly stressed cop asked as Satoru walked into the station, startling him out of the script he was writing for this encounter. 

“Um…Probably?” Gojo asked.

“Thank god.” The policeman exhaled, scrambling to grab out the bail paperwork for you and Nanami, “They haven’t shut up since they got here. The blonde one keeps trying to unionize the other inmates, and the other one keeps offering doughnuts in exchange for freedom.” Yep, those were Gojos' friends. Is this what it was like to be the responsible one? He hated it, Kento could keep this job. As Satoru finished up the paperwork, the tired bastard from behind the counter went to retrieve his two delinquents.

“For the last time, you can not unionize prison inmates!” Gojo could hear the arguing before he saw anyone’s faces.

“That union busting and it’s illegal.” Nanami said, “But, I’m not surprised. Cops break the law all the time.”

“Yea, what he said!” You added, “Keep this up and piggy wont get a doughnut!”

“I don’t even like doughnuts!” The cop snapped, “I have a gluten intolerance!” 

“Weakling,” Nanami scoffed as the three came around the corner, “How are you going to be ruined by a protein? Just tolerate it.” Satoru noticed a darkening bruise on Kentos cheek, and a cut on your lip. Jesus, what happened?

“Gojo!!” You yelled happily as you saw your friend, running into his arms. “My heroine!” 

“Yea, I think you mean Hero,” Satoru quickly corrected you, not wanting any of the feds to get the wrong idea. “Come on, let’s get you to the car.” He said, giving you a quick hug in return before ushering you and Nanami to the car. 

“Can we go to Ihop?” You asked as you crawled into the front seat.

“Sure, as soon as you guys tell me what happened.” Satoru said as he started the car.

“We got arrested.” Nanami said as he buckled up. Gojo rolled his eyes. 

“You landed in jail, how?” Satoru clarified. 

“Oh, easy!” You laughed, “Kento and I went out for a drink after our mission, and some guy thought it would be a good idea to try and get handsy with me. So we got handsy back!” You smiled.

“He called me a Ken doll!” Nanami snapped, “A ken doll! I am very clearly a barbie!”

“Buddy, I don’t think that was the insult you were supposed to take from that.” Satoru giggled.

“What else could he have ment?”

“He was calling you dickless Kento.” He explained. You could see the math flashing and flying before Nanami's eyes as he tried to process the words coming out of his friend's mouth. He finally shook his head.

“No, I don’t think he was trying to fuck me.” He said. You nodded in agreement.

“Yea, he definitely had homophobic vibes.” You added. 

“No, that's-You know what? It doesn’t matter, let's go to Ihop.” Gojo shook his head. He just wanted to get some carbs into his drunken friends, and thankfully they seemed to want the same thing, as they howled in joy at the idea.

[blainesebastian]

diving deep

words: 1,609 ship: austin butler x reader summary: austin and reader work on the same film together where reader has trouble coming down from an emotional scene on set warnings: mentions of familial loss  notes: while i am taking requests, i am pretty much just writing where / when i feel inspired, hope ya’ll enjoy :) masterlist is here (along with ccg masterlist linked at the top)  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief , @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

One thing that you’ve particularly enjoyed about acting is that you feel like you can step into different versions of yourself—maybe versions that would never see the light of day if it weren’t for a particular film or character you’re attempting to bring to life. It’s been one of your favorite experiences because nothing is the same twice. You suppose that should be fairly obvious, but you also know that a lot of people have the same methods when it comes to acting.

For yourself, you’re always trying to tap into something different, a new part of yourself. That can come with outstanding results and equally as many consequences.

You’ve always been one to feel your emotions deeply and you realize it’s helped you gain a lot of track record with your films. Your characters become very real to you because you tie those emotions to them—you realize there’s a double-edged sword to doing this. Those emotional ties can quickly become weights that are capable of dragging you to the bottom of the ocean if you’re not careful. Because you dive so deep to access raw emotions, sometimes it’s hard to come back up for air, to disconnect yourself when the scene is yelled cut.

It's been manageable depending on what the scene needs, what the film wants, what type of character you have until, well, recently. You’re not gonna lie and say these past few days on set haven’t been difficult.

You’ve been lucky enough to land a role in an upcoming drama-romance film with Austin Butler, playing alongside him as your characters grow, change and eventually become romantically entangled. Unsurprisingly, falling in love with Austin is easy—he’s so wonderful to work with. He’s been kind, thoughtful, persistent, and reliable. He’s dependable in reading lines and practicing and he’s always willing to brainstorm how to take on scenes together. He’s really a castmate’s dream…and still so early in his career. It’s nice to know that stardom doesn’t go to everyone’s heads—he’s as every bit lovely as you’ve heard.

It’s this scene that’s been really giving you trouble. You’re not reaching deep enough; you can tell with how the lines are playing out. You’ve gotten great notes from the director, Max, you’re mostly just annoyed with yourself that you’re not pushing it in the direction you want it to go.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Austin tells you over coffee before you head to shoot. “You’re givin’ everything you can.”

You’re not and that’s the problem. Sure, the scene has been turning out fine—but you don’t want ‘just fine’, you want excellence, you want feeling. You know there’s compelling dialogue but you don’t want that to be the source of emotion.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and center yourself as you settle into the diner booth that this scene takes place in. Regardless of how you feel about it? you’re certain that this is probably the last time you’re going to run through these lines. They’ve got workable footage and despite you wanting to make this ‘perfect’, a film has a schedule to keep.

Austin gives you a soft smile once you fix your gaze on him, playfully nudging your ankle underneath the table. A wordless relax. You give him a twitch of your lips in return, before allowing yourself to sink.

In this scene, you’ve just lost your father to some shady dealings at his work, though you’re not sure what exactly happened. Austin’s character works at the same place and you’re begging to somehow get into his office to try and get some answers. There’s loss and grief and heartache and love and you’re trying to manage all those at once as your eyes gather tears.

Focus, concentrate, lines.

“Please,” You say—your character is not above begging but she doesn’t want to have to, “No one will tell me what happened, I just need to be around his things? Find some closure.”

If Austin’s character was teetering on the edge before, he’s definitely not now. His face swims with empathy, his hand slipping across the table to settle on yours, “Alright.”

A few more lines are exchanged, Max yells cut and Austin smiles as he comes up to the table. He leans his palms on the surface, giving both of you a onceover before nodding, “Definitely more emotion this time around but I think it works great for the lines and relationship already built up between the characters.”

Your instincts had been right, and God, while you know it shouldn’t feel so good to be validated? It does. Grabbing a napkin from the dispenser on the table, you wipe your face, giving Max a watery smile.

“Thanks Max,” You begin to maneuver yourself out of the booth, “I just need a minute.”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Take all the time you need.”

There are still a few tears slipping down your cheeks as you make your way out of set, your hands shaking as you try to ground yourself in reality. This is the consequence of diving deep, of reaching down inside yourself for core memories that will produce honest emotions. You just have to back out of it, slowly.

You close your eyes, leaning your shoulder against the outside of the set building, taking a deep breath in through your nose. You hear people come and go around you, working their typical jobs on set, except then someone hovers. Distantly, you know exactly who it is without opening your eyes.

“I’m alright,” You tell Austin quickly and yet your voice catches, as if to give you away.

Austin shakes his head as you open your eyes, tilt your chin up to look at him, “I wasn’t gonna ask—just wanted to know if I could get you anythin’.”

And that’s…that’s so nice without being overly pushy and you hate that one emotion just topples into the other. A soft laugh that wants to come out of your chest ends up sounding like a strangled cry and God, this is so embarrassing. Your cheeks dot pink and you shake your head, running your hands along your face,

“God, I’m sorry,” You sniffle.

“I’ve been there,” Austin smiles softly, leaning his shoulder against the set building as well. His hand moves to smooth over your shoulder, squeezing, “Difficult to come down from.”

Of course he understands and despite feeling that painful lump in the back of your throat, that actually does help. You shake your head, pushing your hair over your shoulder. You knew what you were doing when you pulled a scab off a healing wound, raw nerve endings now bright and sharp in your chest.

“I uh—I lost my grandfather last year,” And you have no idea why you’re telling him this, like you need to explain why you can’t get your shit together. “We were close and I guess I never really—” You let out a shaky breath, shrugging your shoulder, saying ‘got over it’ doesn’t feel right.

“Let myself feel it.” Maybe it was stupid to use that as emotional leverage, even though it registered the reactions you wanted.

Austin doesn’t try to guilt you or say that he understands, even though you know that loss is very much a universal concept. Instead, he lifts his hand to brush a tear track from your cheek, “I’m sure he’d be very proud of you.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you don’t think you realized how much you needed to hear it until that very moment. A solitary tear slips down your cheek even though you’re smiling and Austin lets out a soft, affectionate noise.

“Come here.” He whispers, taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around you.

You find yourself letting out a breath of relief, eyes fluttering closed, nose and lips pressed to his shoulder. Not only has Austin been an incredible support system as a fellow actor but also a really good friend—someone you can lean on and talk to. You hope he knows you’re always available the same way.

You take a moment to breathe him in, the sandalwood of his cologne mixing with something distinctly him, comforting in a way that you can’t quite describe.

“Thank you.” The words are a bit muffled against his shoulder but you think he hears it; he squeezes you before pulling back.

“C’mon,” Austin says, motioning towards the tents in the distance, “Lets get some breakfast.” Doesn’t matter that it’s like, seven at night, but you kind of love that. “Think the next scene we’re shooting is where we’re fightin’—sure you won’t have to dig too deep for that one.”

A soft laugh escapes your chest and you shake your head, straightening your shoulders as you begin to walk with him, “Pretty sure the script says that I slap you.”

“Did you want to practice that, or?”

You grin, already feeling a lot better. You’re not sure he’s right though—from what you remember about the script orders, “Think a kissing scene is next, by the way.”

Austin purses his lips, “So you want to practice for that?”

You playfully smack his chest with the back of your hand even though you’re smiling (and thinking about kissing him).

“Just checking.” Austin winks and slips into the food tent to grab two plates, beginning to pile them high with breakfast items.

You feel that same flush heat the back of your neck and cheeks all over again for a different reason. At least you won’t have to dive deep in order to find affection and attraction for your upcoming scenes.