#but don’t worry thou won’t be like wait what happened between here and now??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miekasa · 3 years

Text

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!

+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if that’s something you don’t like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly

+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :’) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings

+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this fic—all the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so they’re about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :’)

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.

“So you’re saying that you don’t love me? That you’re not riding? That you’ll actually leave from beside me?”

“I’m saying that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and I’m not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.”

“But… but I want you, and I need you, and I’m down for you.”

You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. “Just get an Uber or something. I don’t know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I don’t want any part of it.”

“First, they’re our idiot friends. Second, I don’t think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, it’s, like, four in the morning, so I don’t think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise I’ll make it up to—”

“From where?” you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Eren’s awkward chuckling. “Eren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.”

Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. “Technically, it’s a holding cell, not really prison… and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min can’t drive yet, so we kind of need you,” he explains, “Uh, no pun intended.”

“Min?” you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the younger’s name, “Is Armin with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.

“Why did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?” you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, “Erwin’s going to castrate you when he finds out.”

You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.

“Relax,” Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “He didn’t get charged with anything, and nothing’s going on his record.”

“You don’t know that,” you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, “The NYPD suck.”

“True,” he hums, “But I paid off the cop, so it’ll be fine.”

You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course you did,” you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.

“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.

“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”

The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.

Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.

Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”

Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.

“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”

“No, no—of course not.”

Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.

Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”

“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”

“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”

“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.

“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”

You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”

His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.

“It was almost three thou—”

“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.

Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.

The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.

You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.

“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”

“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”

Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.

“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”

“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.

“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”

The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.

“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”

“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”

He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”

Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”

“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.

“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”

Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.

“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”

He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”

“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”

“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”

“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”

“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”

“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”

“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”

He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.

“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.

“And what’s it matter to you?”

“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”

He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”

“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”

“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”

“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”

There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.

It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.

“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”

“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”

“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.

“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”

Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.

The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.

Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.

Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.

Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.

It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”

“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”

“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s called you at least ten times today.”

“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”

Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.

Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.

Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.

“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.

Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.

“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.

“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”

“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.

“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.

Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.

He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.

He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.

You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.

“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.

“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”

“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.

“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.

“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”

“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”

“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”

“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”

“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”

“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”

It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.

“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”

“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”

You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”

“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”

“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”

“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”

“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”

“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”

“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”

He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.

“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”

For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”

“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”

“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”

“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”

“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”

“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”

You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”

“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”

“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him—or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”

“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”

Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.

He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.

Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”

Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.

They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.

You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.

“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.

Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”

Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.

“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”

You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”

Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”

Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”

Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.

“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”

It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.

“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.

“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”

“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”

It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.

It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.

They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.

And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.

It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.

It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.

The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.

Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”

And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”

You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.

There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.

You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.

“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.

He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.

“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.

“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”

Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.

“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”

Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.

He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”

When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”

He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”

You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”

Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.

It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.

Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.

Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.

Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.

“Is… is that why you—”

“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”

You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”

“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”

“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”

“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”

Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”

“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”

You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.

“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”

Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”

You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”

You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”

This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.

Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.

This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.

You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.

“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”

“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”

“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“How come you get to call him a baby?”

“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”

Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.

The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.

Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.

“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”

Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.

He smiles. “I do.”

The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.

You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.

Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.

It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.

He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.

The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.

“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.

But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”

You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.

You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.

With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.

He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.

The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.

Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”

“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”

“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.

You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.

He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.

From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.

You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.

The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.

“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.

You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.

You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.

“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”

You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.

He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.

Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.

“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.

“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”

“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”

“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren��”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!

#attack on titan #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren smut #eren fluff #levi x reader #I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT

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erimeows · 3 years

Note

Could we maybe get some Sentinel falling for a human and hating it headcannons/scenario? The human is just really nice and very smart! An ex Sumdak scientist who moved in with the bots and Sari after Sari got kicked out? They help them find the AllSpark? Magnus has a lot of respect for them as they've helped find the All Spark shards and done a lot of research on autobot and decepticon history and found out weaknesses. Sentinel is so angry cause Magnus clearly favors them over other humans so he has to get used to that and them? Maybe Optimus likes them and that sets Sentinel off?

Sure thing! May have twisted this a bit, but hope you enjoy!

Oh my God, he hates it with everything in his entire being.

It starts simply enough. When he arrives on earth, he notices that, like the tiny rude organic known as Sari, you’re around the Autobots all the time. Like... All the time. Helping them find All Spark fragments, doing research for them, helping Isaac Sumdak with his creations, taking care of Sari.

So, since you’re a tiny adult human and he has unchecked mental health issues that he likes to take out on others, he starts off trying to be mean to you.

The first time, he trips you while walking past you in the hallway. You don’t notice it was intentional, but fall pretty hard and scrape your hands up so badly that you’re tearing up. Sentinel refuses to apologize or acknowledge that he’s in the wrong but feels oddly guilty and decides to help you take care of your hands. You’re very thankful, offering him a hug, which he denies and runs off because of, spewing some half-assed insults on his way out.

He can’t get you off his processor after that. He feels like a shitbag for not even owning up to being the one who tripped you and feels like a loser for helping you. You’re an organic, he hates you like the rest of them, he doesn’t feel bad for you.

Next time he sees you, he tries again to be mean to you, making a comment on what you’re wearing and asking what trashcan you dug it out of. Most humans get frustrated and yell at him or insult him back when he talks to them like that unprompted, but you only shrug him off and asks if he’s feeling alright or wants to sit down to cool down for a moment. Uh. Huh? He’s confused at first, utterly perplexed that you might think he’s weak, upset, or hurt, or... Something, but then his confusion turns to anger, and again, he storms off, unsure of how to handle someone who’s not angry at or annoyed by him.

You pay a lot of attention to him after that and he hates it; always trying to offer him things, share smalltalk, take him places, etc. He hates it even more when he notices just how much everyone else loves you, too; Sari was fine, and so was Optimus and his stupid pile of scrap metal that he called a team, but ULTRA MAGNUS? Oh, it had him fuming from his exhaust pipes. Even Ultra Magnus was charmed by you and looked for whatever excuse he could get to talk to you on earth.

Okay, whatever. Everyone and everybot likes you, so Sentinel is convinced he hates you for that and for having a holier-than-thou attitude that won’t allow you to retaliate against him when he’s rude to you even though all he wants is for you to feed into it. Totally.

That is until he starts getting... Jealous, namely of Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime for talking to you so much. The embarrassing thing is that he can’t even pinpoint it at first; all he knows is that he gets pissed off when he sees Optimus giving you a shoulder rub after a long day and having a conversation with him over dinner (for you) and energon (for Optimus) and gets pissed off when he sees you, a human, walking by Ultra Magnus’s side and casually conversing with him like he’s your equal.

“I don’t get it, Jazz! Why is she talking to both of them like that? Why is it making me so mad?”

“Could it be... You aren’t so much mad that she’s a human who’s close with Ultra Magnus, but that you’re jealous of O.P. and Ultra Magnus for being so close to (y/n) when you’re not?”

The conversation with Jazz had been impromptu and a big mistake, as he blew a fuse immediately after and had to be taken to Ratchet for some minor repairs. Everyone is concerned, no one has any idea what’s going on, but he’s stuck in Ratchet’s medbay for a day and you’re asked to watch him overnight since you’re the most qualified to do any fixes should he have any issues, and Ratchet needs to recharge.

“So... What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it! Primus, you humans are always so nosy-” Sentinel starts scolding you and moves to get up from the medberth, but you place a gentle hand on his servo and he can’t help but freeze in place.

“I’m not doing this with you tonight, Sentinel Prime. Recover and let me stay by your side to make sure you’re okay.”

“Just leave! I’ll be fine, I’m a member of the-”

“I know.”

“Then why do you care!?”

“Because I know you can be kind, and whether you want to or not, you need to rest and have someone monitor you over night! You blew a fuse in your head, and while that itself is a minor injury, if you do it again it’s going to be harder to fix and you could blow more. I’d rather not extent your stay in here.”

Naturally, he asks what you, as a human, could possibly know about robots/Cybertronians and their health. After getting him to lay back down, you tell him about how you used to work for Isaac Sumdac as a scientist before you started taking care of Sari when he disappeared, and that right after the Autobots arrived on earth, you studied them closely enough to figure out most of their anatomy and received some training under Ratchet to act as a second medic for them.

Oh. That makes sense. Sentinel feels a bit foolish but doesn’t say anything and waits until he can fall into recharge, but when he wakes up the next morning, you’re sitting on a stool by his berthside, passed out with your head resting on his thigh.

He doesn’t have the heart to wake you up and pretends to still be resting with his optics shut until Ratchet comes in and wakes you up himself.

He’s released with a clean bill of health and immediately goes to find Jazz.

“What do you mean by that!?”

“Uh, slow down before you blow another fuse, S.P., but you know what I meant,” Jazz laughed at him, and naturally, Sentinel took a few to process what had been said the previous day.

Jazz was implying that Sentinel wasn’t mad at you for being a human and interacting with Optimus/Ultra Magnus, but that he was mad at Optimus and Ultra Magnus for interacting with you because...

Oh. Sentinel realized that he was jealous, and in not being able to be mean to you anymore, he found himself watching you a lot. You were intelligent, kind, attractive... The opposite of him, to be honest, but when it hit him all at once, he ends up having a melt down of sorts.

Locking himself in his berth on Ultra Magnus’s ship for days on end, not drinking enough energon, going between sleeping to escape his feelings and pacing around doing nothing but dwelling on them, Sentinel Prime is a mess when he realizes that he has a crush on you. It makes sense, but... Why did it have to be an organic? He can’t even cope with it.

Eventually, he snaps out of it and decides that he’s going to take the logical approach with this; ignore his feelings and push them deep, deep down in his spark so he doesn’t have to acknowledge or deal with them. He shouldn’t like you anyways, right? You’re just a stupid human!

Except... You’re not. You’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, you’re caring, and a million other things he cares not to admit. So he’s stuck. He won’t confess his feelings to you or really think about them because he knows all he’s ever done is be mean to you, and honestly, he doesn’t deserve you and is afraid of you rejecting him.

Things stay stagnant for a while, but he’s a little nicer to you. Still rude, still making unnecessary comments about you being a human, but hey, he doesn’t try to trip you anymore and is always defending you when anyone/anybot brings up your name behind your back. Every other Autobot catches on to what’s happening but just doesn’t say anything because they know Sentinel will try to pummel them LMAO.

But then... Valentine’s day rolls around. For whatever reason, he decides to hang around earth that day and learn about the customs since you and Sari seem excited to teach him and the other Autobots about it.

A day of romance where lovers give each other gifts... Okay, so basically, nothing to do with him, but he notices that Sari, Bee, and Bulkhead decide to go see a movie since they don’t have anyone/anybot to do anything with, and Ratchet goes off to work in his medbay, while Jazz and Prowl suddenly disappear to do their own thing and Ultra Magnus is preoccupied with work on his ship. That just leaves Sentinel, you, and Optimus.

The amount of frustration in him when Optimus hands you a bouquet of (f/c) roses is something he can’t even comprehend. So, when you walk off to go find a vase to put them in, Sentinel turns to his old friend with a glare.

“Who do you think you are? How long have you felt that way towards her?”

“Uh, Sentinel? (y/n) and I are just really good friends? I know she’s what her species would refer to as “single” at the moment and I didn’t think you’d do anything for her, so I got her those to make her feel special tonight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Sentinel exclaims at Optimus’s bold assumption that he wouldn’t do anything for you for Valentine’s day... Which was totally true. He didn’t have the guts to buy you flowers or chocolates or any of the other things that Sari said humans liked for the occasion, but apparently Optimus did, and while he now knew that Optimus didn’t have any romantic feelings towards you, it still hurt.

“It means that even though you’ve been obsessed with her since the Elite Guard got here, you treat her with no kindness whatsoever because you’re too prideful to admit your feelings and want to cover them up,” Optimus puts a hand on his shoulder. “Now, I’m going to go spend the rest of the night with Ratchet so he isn’t by himself, but I’ll leave you to figure this out. Good luck, old buddy.”

Optimus walks off, and the words hit hard. Sentinel knows that what his friend said is right, so when you get back with the roses in a vase to set down on the table and ask him where Optimus went, he decides it’s time. Without dwelling on it too much, he grabs your hands to hold in his servos, standing in the middle of the living room and spilling his guts out to you before telling you “Happy Valentine’s Day... Or whatever,” and pulling you in for a kiss.

Thankfully, you reciprocate.

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what-the-witch-stuff · 3 years

Text

Landings Through the Grapevine

Chapter 2: Unfulfilled Expectations

Masterpost: here Go to: Ch.1 | Ch.2 |

_________________________

"I have news for you. One good, one bad" Shane said hours after the dance, when everyone was busy cleaning the place up. "Wait! Help me with that table first...Allright. Shoot". Shane grabbed the other side of the table and together they heaved it off the ground to carry it back to Marnie's farm. The path that led to the narrow bridge which divided the forest clearing from the rest of the village, was not large enough for them to carry the table side by side. So Shane volunteered to walk backwards while Riley gave directions. For a few moments Shane didn't say anything but occasionally looked at something over her shoulder. Then he lowered his voice:

"Ok, so...Mr. Darcy" – that was code for Elliott – "has been mingling with my aunt for almost the entire festival and now they both keep looking over at you".

"What?"

"Don't look! I didn't want to say it earlier, because I wasn't sure. But given how Marnie has been really chatty today, I bet she's playing matchmaker again"

"Oh for fuck's sake! What about Elliott?"

"Don't know, maybe he finally figured out that you don't understand his poems, or something"

"Shane!"

„I'm kidding. Don't act so horrified. Also, it's true!"

„No! It's not."

„Okay. Remember the poem he 'gifted' you at the Feast of the Winter Star? What was that about?"

Riley was preparing to answer him in a know-it-all manner but soon realised that she had actually no idea what to say. She hoped her death glare would shut him up for good. Alas, it didn't.

„You can give me the evil eye all you want. I already cringed to death when he started performing it in front of the goddam tree."

„Maybe a few metaphors and references go over my head sometimes, but that's because I never read much poetry before.

„Or maybe his writing is as inflated as his ego"

„Stop! For Yoba's sake, just tell me what's up with him!

„How should I know?"

„Then why tell me?"

"I thought you would want to know these things"

"Well, what does he look like? Does he look upset or anything?"

"Ehm",– at that Shane peeked back over her shoulder, looking rather pained as he tried to awaken his interpersonal skills: "Well he looks like a schmock, so nothing new there. Maybe that's just his –oh shit!"

"What?!"

"He's coming"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Stop! Jesus, Riley have you never been to highschool? You don't look at people you're talking shit about."

"Ok! ok, act natural !"

"You're the only one acting like a headless chicken", he hissed under his breath.

"Well, maybe I would be calmer if you –"

Shane dropped his side of the table. It came to the ground with a soft thud and Riley almost lost her footing from the sudden yank it caused on her side, forcing them to an immediate stop shortly before the bridge. This interrupted Riley's tirade and in hindsight saved her some embarrassment, as Elliott appeared by her side soon after, brushing a strain of hair behind his ear : "Good day, you two. I am so very sorry I didn't get to chat with you sooner. Can I help you with that?", he asked, having seen them struggle but obviously mistaking the situation at hand. Before Riley could even say anything, Shane intervened again : "Glad that you ask!" he said in an overly friendly manner while stretching theatrically and making a face: "My back is killing me! If you don't mind, I'd rather go see if I can help with something else" and with the blink of an eye, Shane and Elliott had switched places.

"You're welcome!", Shane murmured while brushing past her and he was gone. Meanwhile Elliott was getting into position and testing the table's weight while Riley could do nothing but watch him dumbfounded. When he noticed her staring, Elliot winked: "Shall we then?"

"YES! I mean, sure. Thanks for the help", If Riley's face looked as flushed as it felt right then and there, Elliott was gentleman enough to pretend not to notice. "Please, don't thank me! I should have been more involved with the preparations to begin with. I was just so caught up with my newest draft, that I had forgotten all about the dance until a few days ago. Oh, also, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything between you and Shane?", he added, leaning slightly towards her in mock-conspiracy.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it did look like you've been arguing, before I came over. I hope it was nothing serious"

"Ehm... I was just worried. His, eh... his 'back pain' is quite bad, but he didn't want to bother Harvey during a holiday", Riley lied between her teeth, as they made their way over the narrow bridge.

"Poor fellow, no wonder he seemed rather miffed today. But he danced like a champ!", Elliott stated sympathetically.

"Yes, he knows how much it means to Emily and didn't want to let her down"

"See, I was wondering about that a little. I did expect the two of you to be dancing today"

At that, Riley tripped over nothing, looking at Elliott with such astonishment that she almost forgot to warn him about the slight slope the path would be taking, shortly after the bridge.

"Sorry, who?"

"Well, you and Shane….?"

"Huh?"

Elliott then must have come to some sort of realisation, for it was now his turn to look flushed and embarrassed.

"Oh, Let the greater part of the news thou hearest be the least part of what thou believest." he exclaimed ruefully and smiled at her apologetically: " I should have known better than to make assumptions. I am sorry, Riley. It was something I overheard, please pay no mind to it!"

Riley suppressed the urge to ask him if he had been quoting Shakespeare again, as in 5 times out of 7 she had already been wrong. And by now, she had the nagging suspicion that Elliott chose anything but Shakespeare, just to mess with her. Instead, she stammered: "N-No, it's fine! Shane and I are close, but we are just friends...'', and almost Riley would have given into the temptation of adding something like: '...just as you and Leah, if I am not mistaken?'. But she discarded that idea as soon as it came to her. Too obvious. Though Riley was dying to get her hands on any piece of information about what kind of relationship he and the artist were cultivating, she had to be careful. The last thing she needed was the awkwardness of unrequited feelings or the loss of a friendship because of it. However, remembering Shane's assumption regarding Marnie, she continued : "...Though I do believe Marnie wouldn't mind me as her niece-in-law. But neither Shane or I see that ever happening,". She then laughed. But, following her gut instinct, she kept an eye out for Elliott's reaction, who, still dealing with his own embarrassment, couldn't help but wince slightly.

Bingo.

Shane's words were practically echoing in the back of her mind: I bet she's playing matchmaker again.

– ‘Yes she is and you won't like to find out with whom exactly', Riley thought grimly.

To say this was news to her would be a lie, sadly. Last year it had been just a few questions, if Riley was seeing someone, or if she fancied someone from the village already. Before long, Marnie had gotten more obvious about her actual motivation: "Have you met my nephew, yet? Shane. He is from Zuzu-City too. Oh, I need to introduce you to each other, next time you visit."

But said introduction flopped big-time. It had been difficult. Well, Shane had been. But Riley now knew that this wasn't anything personal. She had involuntarily witnessed his downward spiral until the fateful day at the cliffs, where Shane had finally hit rock bottom. Since then he was getting the help he needed and they could manage having a conversation that wasn't ending in a disaster. Nevertheless, as she and Shane clearly never hit it off, Riley thought that Marnie had moved on and was satisfied with talking her up to some other bachelor instead. Apparently, she had been wrong. "Please, do not believe that I usually engage in petty gossip." Elliott exclaimed and Riley knew, if his hands were free, he would probably underline his words with some dramatic gesture: " This is not why I wanted to talk to you. I would never bother you with such shallow conversation!". They finally reached Marnie's farmhouse and were greeted by Gunther and Clint, who were busy sorting Marnie's belongings back to where they belonged. Soon Elliott and Riley were relieved of their task and hurriedly shooed away. "Riley, you did enough! You've been here all day and surely your farm does not run itself", Gunther called over his shoulder as he and Clint disappeared into the house, leaving Elliott and Riley to themselves. „Well, I don't want to keep you from your duties..." Elliott eventually said rather deflated, after some seconds of them just standing there.

„It's fine! Really. I have time to chat."

„Are you sure? I would hate to inconvenience you", though Riley could easily tell that Elliott was just saying that to stay polite.

„You aren't, believe me. What did you want to talk about originally?"

Elliott immediately straightened his posture, his demeanour getting more relaxed as Riley's question offered him the chance to return their conversation back towards familiar territory.

He suspensefully cleared his throat.

"I wanted to thank you, for you have played a significant role regarding my latest draft. Well, draft is a bit much. It's more of an outline, actually."

"Really?!", Riley could not believe her ears. This was like the beginning of some obscure fever dream, where Elliott would finally announce her as his muse and declare his undying love for her…. Totally hypothetically of course, because Riley would never fantasize about such a corny situation! Ever.

"Yes! For as much as I frequent the library, I just recently noticed the marvellous collection of exhibits you have been providing to the museum. I would've never thought for our tiny valley to be such a place of wonder and history! I must be honest, my latest works were getting nowhere and I dreaded starting a new manuscript. I had gotten quite far with my latest piece. But all these treasures have ignited a new spark within me. Now I can hardly put my pen to rest. But I need more inspiration!". Elliott got more excited the more he talked. It was no longer just polite enthusiasm but an almost childlike delight that made his eyes sparkle in a way she rarely got to see on him.

"Oh that's wonderful! But how can I help you with that?" Riley was getting somewhat confused. If Elliott needed more information on the artifacts, he would be better off talking to Guntehr instead. And following that line of thought, Riley couldn't really fathom what Elliott needed of her, to fuel his newfound inspiration.

"It's about this Adventurer's Guild..."

The answer was: absolutely nothing.

"Oh", Riley tried not to sound or even look unhappy about this revelation and Elliott seemed too fixated on his own issues to notice anything, for he continued talking: "I have seen you standing next to that older gentleman, today. What was his name again?"

"Marlon?"

"Yes! He is the guild's leader, I suppose ?"

"Eh, yes, you could call him that."

"I would like to ask him a few questions. I would love to hear some of his adventures. He looks like a man who has many stories to tell. However, I struggle to get a hold of him!

Surely, I tried asking around. But before today, I didn't even know whose company he keeps. I have never seen him in town either, other than during holidays, which is why I had hoped to talk to him today. But shortly after the dance I lost sight of him and he was gone! I could tear my hair out, Riley! That man is like a ghost. How am I supposed to write about fantastic tales of danger, when I have no authentic experience to write from?!" Elliott had talked himself into such a frenzy, that he ended up being short of breath. While he needed a moment to collect himself, Riley used this pause to talk some sense into him.

"Well, you will be happy to hear that the guild building is actually very easy to find. It's right next to the entrance to the mines.", she informed him, trying to push away the feeling of disappointment. "Office hours are between 2 pm to 10 pm. Normally, entrance is only allowed for adventurers only, but technically you would be considered a potential client. And If you really cannot get in, then Clint, Willy and I see Marlon often enough that we can relay a message to him." "Is that so? Thank you so much, I knew I could count on you! I will seek him out first thing tomorrow!". With that he made his goodbyes and hurried back towards the meadow, presumably to find Leah and share his progress with her. She looked after him until his silhouette disappeared from her sight and with a groan Riley decided that it was indeed time to head back to her farm. The gleeful excitement she had felt at the prospect of being alone with Elliott, had vanished to sober disillusion. She wasn't even in the mood to get worked up over the whole Marnie-situation. Therefore, she decided to no longer think about whatever had transpired today. That would be future-her's issue to deal with. When Riley entered the premises to her own farm, the sight of the seemingly endless plot of land filled her with awe, like it did everytime. Proudly, she watched her cows, chicken and ducks peacefully napping in the sun and listened to the faint rustling of leaves above her head, as she finally made her way towards home.

#stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley #sdv fanfic #sdv farmer #elliott stardew valley #elliott x reader #sdv elliott #original female character #stardew valley farmer #elliot sdv

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atomicblasphemy · 3 years

Text

Eda becomes some kind of flying taxi service

Amity: So I told Malphas he needed to have a talk with Gary about our coffee break space.

Emira: Mhmm.

Amity: I mean, for one, Gary never cleans after himself. Like, I once saw him leaving his mug dirty for over a week. A WEEK. It was disgusting. It was just sitting dare on the table for days. I didn’t want to clean it, I’m not a doormate. But it was dire and I had no choice. And don’t get me started on the fridge situation. My lunch has been getting smaller by the day and I can’t seem to figure out the culprit.

Emira: That’s nice, Mittens. Isn’t it nice, Edric?

Edric: What?

Amity: Will you guys pay attention? I need some advice on...

*Windows cracking”

Edric: What the...

Hooty: AMITY FELICITY BLIGHT! IT IS I, HOOTCIFER, HARBINGER OF THY DESTINY. COME WITH ME AND I SHALL REVEAL WHAT JOYS THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR THEE.

Amity: I... What?

Hooty: DOTH THOU DARE DEFY FATE? *Swallows Amity*

Emira: ... What just happened? Wasn’t that Eda’s house demon? You know, the one we met before Grom?

Edric: I think it was. I’m not sure though, he sounded more... ominous...

SEVERAL EMOTIONAL MOMENTS LATER

Luz: It’s early... Do you really have to go already?

Amity: Yeah... I still have to finish homework, and I have work tomorrow. But I’ll come back here tomorrow... If you’re okay with it, that is...

Luz: YES! I mean... yeah, I’d love that...

Amity: Anyway... I guess I should get going, we’re not exactly neighbors after all. See you tomorrow then.

Luz: Wait, I have an idea. *Turns around* EDA!

Eda: *Not stopping her flight practice* What?

Luz: Do you think you could give Amity a lift back to her place?

Eda: Oh? Not walking your girlfriend home? Thought you’d be more chivalrous.

Luz: *Showing that Amity’s tomato like properties are infectious* EDAAA!

Eda: Sorry, sorry. But yeah, sure. *Picks up Amity and flies away at neckbreaking speeds. She soon slows down to a more reasonable pace* So... Amity, before I give you that whole “What are your intentions?” scare there’s something I’ve been itching to ask you. What made you chose to dye your hair of all colors, and how did Odd-alia react?

Amity: Luz... Me... Girlfriend...

Eda: Ugh... Don’t make me regret making harmless fun of young love, kiddo.

ONE AWKWARD TAXI EDA FLYING SESSION LATER.

Eda: *Placing Amity on the Blight Manor’s front porch and looking at the two bewildered faces watching her* Sup. *Turns to fly away* Oh right, I guess purple here is in not in the mental state to give any explanations.

Amity: Small ceremony... Human realm... Only friends and family... Boscha is not invited...

Emira: Are you... Edalyn Clawthorne?

Eda: Last I checked I was.

Emira: You look different.

Eda: Oh right... Look, it was a very eventful night so let me start with the simpler one. King, you remember him, right? Tiny, angry, looks like a cat, was the MC at the last Grom along with Goops.

Emira and Edirc: Yeah...?

Eda: He’s harnessing all the powers of yelling. I guess all children his age kinda do that but he went above and beyond and actually learned how to make things go boom with his voice alone, and that’s why both Luz and your sister are still alive. And now I’m realizing I should probably go hide all those Death Metal records I got in human realm. Can’t risk turning my son into a weapon of mass destruction. Not yet.

Edric: That’s... nice... I guess?

Emira: How about Mittens?

Eda: Right. She and Luz are an item now. It was adorable, I called her Luz’s girlfriend then I think it finally really hit her and that made her go all catatonic on me. Sorry about that.

Edric: WHAT?

Emira: Okay, okay... So came out with it? Ed and I have some scores to settle.

Eda: I... Both, I guess? I don’t know, it was sort of at the same time. But I don’t want to spoil it for when she recovers. So I guess us three are kinda family now, huh? Tangentially at least, like you’re my nephew and niece-in-law or something like that, I don’t know.

Eda: The important thing is: there’s a huge waterway under my house and I think it is actually part of my property. Now I need to figure out a way to find out how big that place actually is without letting town hall know so my taxes won’t go up. Can’t push my tax evasion skills. I mean, can you imagine it? The Owl Lady, the most successful outlaw in Boiling Isles history: arrested for fiscal crimes.

Emira: Okay... That’s... cool.

Edric: Yeah... Not to pry though, but what happened to you?

Eda: Oh... Me? I got very high. Not on purpose. Then I became a Harpy. Also not on purpose.

Emira: ... I’m sorry but I’m not following the cause and effect relation between those thing.

Eda: Neither am I. All I remember is: Hooty spiked some cookies; I revisited that time I gauged out my dad’s eye, also not on purpose; then when I push my ex away (You know, Raine Whispers, current head of the Bard Coven, lead a small revolutionary guerrilla, now under mind control. Oh, yeah, guess they’d make to sure to keep it under wraps, anyway...)

Eda: Then it got pretty weird. I got trapped by this tall hooded sun and moon figure and I’m not sure whether that was an actual memory (I did get arrested a few time after all) or if it was just a hallucinogenics induced manifestation of the subconscious trauma of being persecuted for years by the state. Anyone’s guess to which was it.

Eda: And then I became Icarus, fell into the sea, and became a piece of paper. Then I was at the beach, the piece of paper was also there, but that’s not important... I hope... Anyway, so, my curse was there too an for a moment there I thought we were gonna play some chess, but nah.

Eda: I did have an epiphany though. The sky changed colors and now I’m a Harpy. Gotta a lot of stuff to process right.

Edric: *Wide eyed and mouth agape* Mother of Titan...

Emira: *Same as her brother* Do you... need a hug or something?

Eda: Ehh... Don’t worry, I’ll get through. I mean, I’m a badass Harpy woman now, what else could I want? I appreciate the thought though. Anyway, I’ll get going, Luz has probably been stuck in the same place ever since I left. Was nice seeing you guys. *Turns around*

Edric: WAIT, EDA.

Eda: Yeah? What is it?

Edric: Can you take me flying a little bit like you did Mittens? Pretty please?

Emira: *Elbowing her brother* EDRIC!

Edric: What? There’s a tall and friendly winged lady standing in our front porch and calling us family...

Eda: Kinda family.

Edric: Kinda family. And we only went flying, on dad’s staff mind you, like twice. And I mean, look at her. That’s clearly a person with next to no regard for speed limits or any form of flying safety. *Turns to Eda* I mean that as the highest of compliments, by the way.

Eda: *Nodding and smiling* Well, I’m not one to brag... But you’re on point there.

Edric: *Turning back to Emira* See? It will be fun. *Turns back to Eda while making puppy eyes* So, pretty pretty please?

Eda: Eh... What the heck, why not? I do need to get a better hold of this flying thing after all. Fair warning though, I only had these for about an hour, I’m not taking responsibility for any loss of limb or life. *Picks Edric up and place him on one of her shoulders and turns to Emira.* You sure you don’t wanna come with? There’s plenty of room.

Emira: ... I never said I didn’t want to...

Eda: *Placing Emira on her other shoulder* Alritty then, make sure to hold on tight to my hair, just don’t fall into it. Can’t promise I’ll find you if you do. And up we go. *Takes off at neckbreaking speed*

Eda: So... I tried that to Mittens herself, but she was too lost in elation to form coherent sentences. What’s the deal with her hair color change? Why did she pick that specific shade of... pink? Lavender? Purple? Whatever, I was a tad curious about that choice coming from one of Odd-alia’s offspring. So either of you can shed some light on it for me?

Emira: Eh, what can I say? Our little Mittens is growing up, coming out of her shell. I mean, if you told me a month that she’d have a girlfriend by now I’d call it bullshit. Though I would have guessed Luz as being the most likely candidate. In any case, I’m pretty proud of the steps our baby sister is taking, not gonna lie.

Edric: Yeah... Same. But I can’t shake the feeling that it is at least in part an act of rebellion against mom. She did always have that weird fixation with Amity’s hair after all...

Eda: Hum, I see. This actually takes me to my follow up question. How did your mom react when she saw it?

Edric: *chuckling* Oh, I thought she’d have a stroke right then and there.

Emira: Yup. Never saw mom that mad. You’d think the two of us would be the ones to cause it but nope, Mittens beat us to it. Again, I’m a proud big sister.

Eda: Hehehe Sounds about right. You two are the troublemaking type then huh?

Edric: That’s a way of putting.

Emira: We like thinking of ourselves as practical entertainers however. We are in the Illusions track so it comes with the territory. Buuut...

Edric: We indulge in some prankery every now and then, and there’s no one better at it than us.

Eda: Is that so? Ever get in trouble for it?

Edric: Sometimes... When we (kind of accidentally) cause more property damage than intended because SOMEONE botched their end of the spell and caused Bump’s office to almost go up in flames.

Emira: Awww. Ed, I told you already. Don’t beat yourself over it. Accidents happen. You’ll do better next time.

Edric: HEY!

Emira: Anyway, Eda. Why were you asking about Mittens’ hair?

Eda: Oh... You guys are going to love this. I think. Anyway, did you know that me and your parents attended Hexside at the same time?

Edric: Yeah, I remember mom seeing one of your wanted posters a while back and calling you “Ewdalyn Clownthorne” or something like that.

Eda: Ah, haven’t heard that in a minute, Titan those were the day. Anyway, as you might have guessed by now me and your mother we... had a bit of a rivalry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t top the nickname she gave me, best I could do was Odd-alia. No offense, but Blight doesn’t give much to work with in terms of puns, can’t get funnier than that. Especially when thrown at her.

Emira: None taken. And yeah. I mean, it is fun when people call us stuff like “The Blights of Hexside”. But it is kinda sad to know we’ll never get a nickname as cool as Owl Lady or Lord Calamity.

Eda: Oh, my fame still precedes me huh? You know, I think the three of us will get along just fine.

Edric and Emira: Yup, we sure will.

Eda: Anyway, flattery aside... Part of the reason why I love poking your mom with a short stick was, other than how aggravated she’d get and how surprisingly good at paying in kind she was, the fact that she was in the Oracle track. You see, that made her a challenge. And given how she would actually prank me back (successfully, mind you, I have no shame in admitting that) I feel like like we actually a weird sort of friends, or at least we reached some kind of agreement that we were fair game for each other. And trust me, she was ruthless, and very good at escalating things.

Emira: Wow...

Edric: That sounds nothing like the mom we know. Other than the ruthless or the escalation part, that is still true.

Eda: Yeah, anyway. Part of our little game was keeping it hidden. Neither your dad or my sister actually ever realized what was going on until... well, I’ll get to that.

Eda: Anyway, so some lovely day I notice how weirdly obsessed with her hair Odd-alia was. This gives me some ideas, but I know I have make this the mother of pranks, so I decided to just keep a watch, to figure out what the best way to go about it would be. And I was also making those smaller pranks, something to throw her Oracle powers off-balance, you know?

Eda: Well... Back in the day your mother wasn’t monochromatic as she is nowadays. She’d circle through all colors you can think off on her accessories (which she used an ungodly amount, and no judgement it just never seems physically possible). But I noticed that there was one very specific color that she never got anywhere near her.

Edric and Emira: No way...

Eda: And as I said, she was weirdly obsessed with her hair... And as top student of the Potions track making hair dye was child’s play for me... So... do the math... And guess what very specific color was? I may be bad at color names, but I won’t ever, EVER, forget that particular shade.

Edric and Emira: No... freaking... way...

Eda: Yes... freaking... way... I mean, seriously, the first time I saw Amity’s new hair I had to do a double take. The resemblance was just too uncanny.

Emira: And what did she do?

Eda: Well... For a couple weeks there I thought I’d have to place a restriction order on her or something like that. Ultimately the two of us, along with Lilith and Alador (they were our attorneys, no they were not qualified for the role.) sitting across from each other in a very formal looking table, signing a contract. An actual freaking contract setting clear limits to our mutual pranks, like what was off limits like her hair or my then partner, how long was the maximum period a prank could last, so on. Surprisingly enough that was Al’s idea.

Eda: And let me tell you, that was probably the toughest negotiation I ever been a part of. Shame it was not long before I dropped out so never could really put it to use. You know, sometime I think this actually made Odd-alia realize she wanted to be a business woman. I mean, before that she’d go off about how she’d join the Emperor’s Coven all the damn time.

Edric: Wow...

Emira: I second that. Really, wish I had brought something I could take notes on. You completely blown anything we ever did out of the water.

Edric: No wonder she never told us that. You know what? I think I’m dying my hair that color first thing tomorrow.

Emira: Can we tell Amity this story?

Eda: Are you two actually thinking of antagonizing her? Are you crazy? First off, she’s your mother, she holds power over you. All you’d accomplish is getting grounded. Not to mention that she has decades of experience on you, even if she wasn’t your mom, she’d demolish the two of you. No offense, you’re still young, naive, you lack guidance in the ways of the pranksters.

Edric and Emira: *Dejectedly* Ohh... You’re right...

Eda: Hey... Don’t look so gloomy. I see a lot of potential in you, in both of you. *Sighs* I can’t believe I’m gonna take more kids under my wing... But.... Have you guys ever heard of the Bad Girl Coven Initiative? We annoy our foes into submission.

Edric and Emira: WE’RE LISTENING.

Eda: Heh... We’ll get along just fine indeed.

#THE OWL HOUSE #the owl house hooty #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #amity blight #luz noceda #king clawthorne #the owl house boscha #raine whispers #I lost track of what was trying to accomplish halfway though writing this. read at your own discretion.

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thatsgay-writes · 4 years

Note

Leah x reader, dont really have an set idea thou

*TW- Death*

You had known Leah since before the whole thing with Jeff happened. You were her bestfriend since kindergarten, neither of you having a big friend group and mainly stuck to each other with the addition of Ian from time to time. You were completely against what was going on with her and Jeff and you both didn’t talk while she was “dating” him. The two of you didn’t talk again until Leah accused you of sending Jeff her birth certificate.

“I can’t believe you would do something like that!” Leah yells at you as you sat on a bench outside of school waiting for your mom to pick you up. You use to have Leah drive you home but stopped once the two of you stopped talking. “What the hell are you talking about?” You say as you look up from your book and see Leah standing over you. You put a hand against your forehead to block out the sun from your eyes. “Don’t act dumb. I know you sent Jeff my fucking birth certificate.” Leah states aggressively. You stand up and get in her face, not liking how angry she was getting at you for no reason. “I don’t know what the hell your talking about. I may be against whatever the hell is going on between you and Jeff but that isn’t my business. So whatever happened with this birth certificate wasn’t me. Now if you’ll excuse me, my mom is here.” You say as you look past Leah and see your mom’s car. You grab your bag from the bench and walk around Leah. You throw your bag in the back seat and pause before opening the passenger door. “I hope next time we talk... You’re calm and find whatever your looking for.” You state and open your door and get in before Leah could respond. You buckle in and let out a deep breath. “Are you guys okay?” Your mom asks as she pulls away from the curb. You lean your head against the car window and look into the rearview mirror. You watch as Leah turns around to watch your mom’s car go down the street. “I don’t know.”

---

You don’t talk again until you get a call from Leah weeks later. She’s crying through the whole call and by time she finished calling you were only a block away from her house, having run two blocks already. “I-- Open your window...” You say trying to catch your breath as you reach her house and jump the fence into the backyard. You climb the tree like you use to do almost every weekend and climb into her room. You pause to catch your breath again and take in the scene in front of you. Leah laying on her bed crying, clothes thrown around the room, Jeff’s book laying open on the floor. You walk closer to Leah slowly and sit on the edge of it. “What happened?” “You were right... About everything, Jeff was a mistake and I fell for it. I should have listened to you-” Leah cuts herself off as she starts sobbing again. You moved in closer and wrapped your arms around her. “What else happened? It looks like more than just Jeff is affecting you.” You say as your rub her back and try and comfort her. “I sucked this guy off at a party...” She starts off and you cringe, eww boys. “Ian kissed me and we almost had sex but it reminded me too much of losing my virginity to Jeff. It just reminded me too much.” Leah kept repeating as you repositioned yourself so she was laying on top of you, cuddling into your neck. “It’s okay, let it all out. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been laying in the same position but Leah had finally stopped crying and her breathing had evened out. You push some of her hair behind her ear to check if she was asleep, she wasn’t, so you just lean run your hand through her hair in a comforting way. Leah sits up suddenly, straddling your waist. You stare up with wide eyes as she leans over you, hair surrounding both of your faces like a curtain. “Help me forget.” She mumbles as she glances down at your lips before making eye contact. “Wha-- I--” You stutter out, you had always had a crush on your friend but it felt wrong to take advantage of that while she was going through things emotionally. “Leah... You’re not thinking straight. I know what happened with Jeff, Ian, and that guy from the party hurt but us fucking is not the answer.” You state as your heart beats faster and faster as she leans down closer to your face. “Please, just this once.” She asks as her eyes bore into yours, full of hurt and need. You feel your resolve crumble almost immediately, “Just this once.”

Just this once turned into almost three times a week. You both were practically dating now but you knew Leah was still hung up on Jeff, so neither of you put a label on it. Leah still hadn’t talked to Ian as much as before but they were slowly getting back to normal. Her parents didn’t see her getting better slowly and decided to send her on a retreat and she begged for you to join her. Which is has lead to now.

---

Leah ran back onto the beach with the pilot bag filled with medicine and passed it to Dot. Dot immediately looked through the bag before pulling out the two pills for Martha and Toni. (Leah didn’t drop the bag this time.) “Toni, you need to take this pill.” Dot said desperately as Toni denied it and pointed towards Martha. “Martha already took it see.” Dot motioned for Martha to move next to her and make a show of swallowing the pill with diet coke. Toni nodded her head but still made no move to reach out for the pill. “Toni you need to take this!” Shelby said desperately as she took the pill from Dot. “I won’t take anything from you.” Toni spits back, voice full of venom. “Should Shelby really be the one to--” Fatin gets cut off as Shelby straddles Toni and cuts off the air flow from her nose forcing Toni to open her mouth. Shelby shoves the pill down her throat before covering it and forcing her to swallow. “Swallow the fucking pill.” When Toni does swallow the pill, Shelby gets off of her an walks away. “What the fuck?” You voice out what everyone was thinking.

---

You sat next to Leah, arm wrapped around her shoulders, as everyone else relaxes by the fire. It was getting dark and it was almost time to sleep. Everyone, except for Shelby, Toni, and Martha, had taken some Pepto to help with their stomachs. Everyone seemed fine but you felt yourself feeling worse and worse. You didn’t want to say anything because you knew there were no more pills for the food poisoning from the mussels. You didn’t want to worry anyone and hoped you could just sleep it off. “I think we should all sleep, it’s been a long day.” Dot states as she blows on the fire helping it grow again. “I’ll go first on fire watch, who else wants to do it.” You raise our hand, “I can, I haven’t done it in a while.” Dot nods her head as no one else makes a move to volunteer. Everyone starts heading to their beds and you help Leah stand up. You feel a little dizzy as you stand but shake your head.

You let Leah lay down first and lay a jacket over her before laying beside her, the two of you facing each other. You place a hand on her cheek and rub it with your thumb lightly. “I love you.” You say with a small smile that Leah returns with a sparkle in her eye. “I love you too.” She responds and moves forward to place a kiss on your lips. “Goodnight...” You whisper to Leah as she cuddles up against you before letting yourself relax and fall asleep.

---

You expected that the next time you woke up would be from Dot shaking you awake to watch the fire, instead it was from an intense pain through out your body. Your stomach and muscles felt like they were on fire as they kept cramping and releasing over and over again. You couldn’t focus on anything around you as you felt bile rise up your throat and out of your mouth. You could barely register the cool hands against your hot skin as you were rolled onto your side so you didn’t choke to death in your our vomit. “Y/... Please...Up...” You tried to read Leah’s lips as she held your face in her hands but it felt like your head was being held under water. You want to ask her why she looks scared, why she’s crying. Did something happen? You begin to wonder as the pain in your body slowly recedes and you feel yourself getting tired. You made eye contact with Fatin, who was kneeling next to Leah, and Dot who was holding your body sideways. They both let worry and sadness show through their eyes.

You realized that Leah’s sadness and fear was directed towards you. You tried to rack your brain as much as you could about why you felt so tired and why breathing hurt... The mussels, the god damn mussels. Is this what dying feels like? You ask yourself as you try and reach out a hand to hold Leah’s. She notices the twitch of your hand and grabs it tightly. Your hand was cold and weak in her warm and strong ones. You knew you weren’t going to make it, there wasn’t any medicine to fix it. You let tears fall out of your eyes as you realized you would be leaving Leah alone on the hell hole of an island. You wanted to stay, so badly, but what was happening to you was too late to be fixed.

You always imagined death as walking towards a bright light like they showed in movies. But to you it was like falling down an endless pit into nothingness with no way out. You mustered as much strength as you could to give Leah’s hand three squeezes, a way the two of you use to say “I love you.” since Kindergarten. You tried to convey through eye contact how much you didn’t want to leave her and how scared you were about dying. Leah leaned down and put her forehead against yours. “It’s okay y/n, let go. I’ll be okay, I love you too.” She spoke, her proximity seemingly breaking through whatever bubble had made you unable to hear her earlier. You relaxed at her words, she would be okay. Maybe not for a while being stuck on an island, but she had seven other girls around her to lean on. You felt her kiss your cheek and a tear land on your face as she pulled away. You gave her a smile filled with love, you hope, and let yourself embrace the darkness, missing the way Leah completely fell apart as you took your last breath.

#leah x reader #x reader #female reader #female character #female x reader #the wilds #request #leah rilke x reader

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graceslavenderhaze · 3 years

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Hear the sirens, {connor stevens}

synopsis: After the shadow man was defeated their was no new supernatural anomalies in town, then you and your wayward family showed up.

also this gif is lovethephantoms gif but I still can’t figure out why the handle won’t come up underneath the gif.

another female requested reader however when referred to in the writing the pronouns are gender neutral.

This is part one of three!

The Midnight Society had finally settled back into life as it normally was. Gabby had passed her PSAT’s and gotten her permit, still working her way to get out of shadow bay. Hanna still heavily involved in her activism and getting more signatures than before hand on her petitions, making the world a better place even if it was one step, by herself, at a time. Luke back to focusing on school and wrestling, he was still benched for weekend meet for disciplinary due to being late to practice which gave him plenty of time to work on the science project he owed . Jai back to being the comic book nerd his friends loved him as, no longer feeling like he had to own up to any sort of standards when his friends loved him the way he was. Then there was Connor. Who found it harder than his friends to move on, it wasn’t that easy for him. His dad didn’t know what happened so he carried on with the fishing trips like usual. Luke and Hanna had started dating after the glow dance so he was adjusting to his best friend not always being available. While he knew that the shadow man was gone, something in him still felt dark. Like a part of him had been permanently darkened by what he’d been through. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up whenever he walked by cemeteries, or historic settlements of shadow bay. He pushed it all down and acted like nothing happened. But he still slept with the lights on. He still had nightmares most nights.

The Amana family Coven had been around for centuries. It was one of the few that was a female centric coven throughout the dark ages in magic along side the golden ages. The eldest of the coven was Gaia Amana, whose daughter was Leticia Amana, they remain the only two witches in the coven. Leticia married Willow a human woman that had been orphaned in her childhood due to an magical accident claiming her parents. They had two children. Two daughters. One who was a Witch with the gift of clairvoyance. Another who was a Banshee with a generational blood curse.

That Witch, with the clairvoyance? That was you. Your Sister was the Banshee. This was the story of your family and the magic deeply routed throughout your family and bloodline, biological and adoptive. Growing up with magic isn’t a fairytale. You never stayed in one town longer than four years, where there was witches there was hunters who never strayed far.

So anyone who had magic lived by three commandments for protections.

Thou shall not bear the knowledge of magic,

Thou shall not caress a practitioner of magic,

Thou shall not survive a witches love.

By those three commandments your family was able to continue to practice their respective magic without worrying about witch hunts in town. But the times had changed from when your grandmother first took over the coven. It was the twenty first century and spirituality and supernatural abilities were somewhat mainstream, not the truth but the refraction of what was going on. It blurred the lines of what was actually going on. So when it was time for the quadrennial move, your mothers had chosen a small town in Canada. Shadow Bay. There was hardly any supernatural occurrence’s there. With the exceptional of a magic shop but witch hunters had standards so they’d never show up there anyways.

You’d gotten used to the somewhat lonely routine of your life. The moving every four years, the secrets about your magic, while it wasn’t ideal. You loved your magic and you wouldn’t trade your abilities for anything else in the world. But having some solid friends would’ve been a nice start.

The drive wasn’t the longest you’ve ever taken, it also wasn’t the shortest you’ve every taken either. The only difference was that due to getting your license recently your grandmother let you drive her car. You’d lived in a lot of placed over the years. Apartments, ranch, colonial, victorian. Now you were living in a cottage in the woods by a lighthouse. Pulling into the drive you passed a group of six people. Five teens who looked around your age and one who seemed to be younger possibly in middle school.

“Keys are in the mail box.” Your grandmother said, you looked over. “That’s harsh.” You said unbuckling and opening the door to retrieve the keys from the mail box. If the group of teens weren’t staring before they definitely were now. “Can i help you ?” You asked turning around at the group of teens who were like you thought, were staring.

A tall blonde in a leather jacket and all black, A red head wearing an army jacket and docs, A brunnette with curly hair who had a denim jacket on, A tanned brunnette boy wearing street clothes, A pale brunette who had a skateboard not far from his grasp, and a little boy wearing a cap and a wand in his hand.

“Did you just move into the haunted house in the woods?” The brunnette in street clothes asked with zero hesitation. Haunted? “Jai!” The red head exclaimed slapping his arm. The blonde still was staring at you. Like there was this connection flowing between the two of you, you felt it too. “Sorry he has the social skills of a second grader. I’m Hanna Romero.” She said extending a hand towards you. “Y/n Amana.”

“This is Gabby Lewis, that’s Jai Malyas, He’s Luke Mccoy, on the end is Connor Stevens,” So staring boy has a name. “And that’s my little brother Seth.” She said giving a full rollcall for you. “Sorry i just have to ask, the haunted house in the woods?” Jai said not putting his question down. Everyone turned to him and you laughed.

“So you believe in the other side?” You said crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows. The group fell silent for a minute. “Well I mean is there really another side? Maybe all the funs having here.” Connor said smiling at you, lying. You didn’t need magic to know. You just knew the faces of people who’d experienced the supernatural and didn’t know how to explain it afterwards.

“All right then pretty boy.” You said slightly taken aback Connors eyes widened. “Are you going to shadow bay high once you get settled?” Gabby asked you. You nodded, “Yeah my sister and I are suppose to start next week.” Gabby looked at Connor and then back to you, “We could show you both around, give you the old razzle dazzle.” She said. You smiled, “Yeah i’d really appreciate that!”

“No problem! Right Connor?” Gabby said, nudging him. You turned your eyes backed to him. “Yeah no problem at all.” He said running a hand through his hair. You nodded. “I should probably go but i’ll see you guys next week.” You said, each of the teens saying a goodbye to you and you got into the car where your grandmother was waiting, dropping the envelopes with the keys on the dash board.

“Well that looked like a lot more than just getting the keys.” She noted as you started to drive up into the woods. “Just some local kids who offered to show me around when i start and also said our house is the local haunted house in the woods.” You said turning as the road winded. She nodded, “This town is going to be different, you can feel it can’t you?” You could and it gave you butterflies.

That night after dinner you sat up decorating your room. You’d never had your own room before and now you had free creative decisions. You sister knocked on the door holding two cups of tea, “Tea time?” You nodded. You were older by two years, it wasn’t much but sometimes it still managed to wedge a gap between the two of you for certain subjects. She placed your mug down on your desk were you were placing posters up and she sat on your bed. “So Grams said that you were flirting with some outsiders type beat boy earlier.”

You turned taking a sip, “I was not flirting. I might’ve called him pretty boy. But that’s the highest form of flattery rather than flirting if anything!” You said to your sister. “What if you date him? What if you fall in love and have cute babies?” She gushed. “I just met him!” You exclaimed to her turning around, “Oh come on, haven’t you ever wanted to date someone?”

“I don’t date. We move too much besides there’d be too much lying. It would just be heartbreak for me and whoever i’m with.” You said turning your attention back to decorating rather than the conversation. Silence washed over and the question that had been on everyone’s minds was asked once again. “Is it gonna be different here?”

You stalled, exhaling slowly. “You have the gift of clairvoyance, if anything you can tell out of all of us.” She said with excitement. “No i’m not doing it.” You said shutting her suggestion down. “Oh come on!” She persisted.

“Astral projecting isn’t meant for figuring out if we’re going to live out our coming of age fantasies, it’s meant for real magic. I’m not doing it. If any clairvoyant dreams come to me, that’s one thing. I’m not chasing them.” You said breaking down the now empty box that once held pictures, posters and other wall hanging knick knacks. Your sister pouted, “Buzzkill.” She muttered under her breath, “Well were either of the girls cute and give gay vibes?” She asked as she finished her mug and placed it on the floor.

“Ask them yourself. They offered to show us around on our first day. But no powers. If you want a relationship it has to be fully yourself no magic sire ties. Magic sometimes makes it messy.” You said unfortunately speaking from experience. Magic was beautiful but it doesn’t come from nothing, there is a give and a take. Like everything else in the universe.

That night you found it hard to sleep, you usually had issues sleeping the first night in a new town. It was some sort of internal clock routine. You snuck out of the front door, for a house that had been around for as long as it had been it wasn’t the loudest. The floor boards didn’t creak every time you walked over them, the doors didn’t screech whenever you opened them an inch at a time, and the house didn’t settle several times a day. But for all you knew a spell could’ve been casted to prevent that.

You found comfort being on your own. Having clairvoyance was overwhelming at times. You had no control over your powers, they never had a specific trigger, so naturally you just steered clear of people in general. You figured there was no way to be given unwanted visions of the future if you just didn’t have anything to do with anyone at all. Your own loneliness was your own fault. Walking through the woods you felt the feeling of dark magic, it was a distinct feeling that you hadn’t felt often but it was unforgettable when you did. It over takes you, like a wave but instead of being able to see through the water its ink. It’s heavy, and dark. It drags you under.

You hear several snaps of twigs behind you and slightly startled you turn to see the animal or whatever that was behind you. Ready to cast a spell incase whatever followed was a foe and not a friend you gathered your hands in front of your body, “Either you come out or it’s going to be a bad night for you.” You called out into the darkness. Several more twigs snapped under what you assumed where footsteps as a dark shape came out from behind the tree.

“I surrender!” The figured called out with slight fear in their voice. “My hands are up!” The voice sounded so familiar as they neared towards you. Once they were within eye sight you noticed it was one of the boys from earlier, Connor. “ Take it easy there cobra kai.” He said gesturing to your hands which could be assumed in a fighting position, which they were just not the fighting position he thought it would be.

You took your hands away from the stance they were place in front of your body, “So, you enjoy taking walks in the dark and startling people pretty boy?” You asked crossing your arms. He lowered his flashlight so he wasn’t practically blinding you anymore. He laughed lowly for a second, “To be fair with the way i was snapping twigs, if you were startled that sounds like a you deal.”

You smiled at him for second, “I’m Connor Stevens by the way, we met earlier but i don’t know you if remember me.” He said running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit probably. “Oh so you assume that you’re unforgettable. Not a chance pretty boy.” You said taking several steps closer. Slightly taken aback once again by your boldness for the second time in the one day. “I have a name you know.”

“Oh so you don’t find pretty boy flattering?” You asked coyly, going silence after trying to create an argument. “Thought so.” You said smiling. His eyes stayed glued onto you, his dad has taught him better than to stare.

“Sorry, i just keep getting this deja vu feeling but i would definitely remember meeting you.” He said unfiltered getting close enough for you to catch a vision, you back up slightly and he’s hurt by this. It’s written all over his face. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly and sincerely.

“Oh no i just have this thing with physical touch, it’s nothing personal. You’d remember meeting me? Are you reading into my character?” You said with a slight cockiness mixed into the tone. He nodded, “No it’s just you’re literally one of the prettiest girls i’ve ever seen.” You dropped the flashlight that you’d brought with you. You rushed forward to pick it up as did Connor, both your fingertips grazed each other.

The images flooded through your head. You saw past images first, not older than a month or so. It was dark, he was in the woods running, then there was a book of spells it looked like ever other witches book, and then he was grabbed into the dark. Inside of something that looked like a lighthouse but rotted on the inside and there was absolutely no light. Then there was present, this moment right here right now. The future was the two of you in front of the high school, you guessed. Then it was just the two of you, your aura’s with a red string connecting them at the pinkies. But then it was him holding your hands as something tried to drag you. Then it was over.

You blinked a few times before looking back up at Connor, “Are you okay? You looked like you saw a ghost.” He said with a slight laugh dropping the flashlight into your palm like it was burning him to touch. “Something like that.” You muttered lightly and standing back up. Silence washed over, “I should probably get back home before anyone notices i’m gone.” You said. He nodded, “See you around, cobra kai?”

“See you pretty boy.” You confirmed turning around to walk back to your house for the night. Sneaking back in just as quietly as you left. You managed to fall asleep before the sun rose this time. Once you fell asleep, the visions still lingered on a loop. Despite how much you hated it on a deep level it was comforting compared to the nightmares that had a tendency to plague you from time to time.

The next morning your family had gotten take out from the local diner for breakfast and during the morning conversation no one mentions anything that gives away your nightly adventure. Throughout the rest of the week you and your family continues to get settled into your house. You hadn’t seen Connor on any of your nightly walks through the woods throughout the rest of the week and as the day of starting school gets closer you just assume you’ll see him along with his friends.

Your sister and you were sitting in the office after you’d gotten your schedules and other paperwork. “We have two student volunteers who offered to show you around.” The secretary said as she handed the two of you a peppermint, Slightly disappointed, going under the impression you’d get to hang out with Connor and his friends today. The door creeks open and you turn. Gabby and Hanna enter the office, you notice through the glass pane of the door Luke, Jai and Connor standing in the hallway waiting for them.

“Ah, Hanna Romero and Gabby Lewis. This is Y/n Amana and Ramona Amana.” She said as the two of you stood up. “If you need anything during your next few days don’t hesitate to reach out.” She said sincerely, offering a comforting smile. Your sister and you both exchanged thanks before leaving the office.

You saw Luke nudge Connor to which he muttered a shut up, you smiled. “Nice to see you again pretty boy.” You said smirkingly, Jai looked up from his phone. “Again, you went into the haunted woods?” He said looking at Connor, who blank faced. “Thanks for ratting me out. Besides, there wasn’t anything out there other than Y/n and their fists of fury almost giving me a black eye.” He said punching you lightly in the shoulder, laughing with you.

“What’s the deal with those woods anyway? It seems like everyone has some story about them.” Ramona asked no one specific just wanting a general answer after hearing the endless week of comments. The group went silent, “Okay so like did someone get murdered there. Some true crime type beat?” You asked as you leaned against the wall next to Connor. Leaning your head on his shoulder, he leaned his head on yours after a few moments of hesitation.

“It’s an unbelievable story.” Jai said as he looked at the comic in his hand with a confused look and then closed it, Ramona smirked. “Oh we know a lot about those type of stories.” She said standing next to Gabby. Both were stealing looks when the other wasn’t. “Where are you guy’s from?” Hanna asked with confusion and a slight laugh. “Where aren’t we from.” You said under your breath catching the attraction of the group.

“We’re military, we move a lot.” Ramona said. The cover story that had been engrained into you both from elementary school. “Damn that must suck.” Luke said getting elbowed by Hanna, “I mean thank you for your service.” He corrected himself. You laughed a little as Luke tried to awkwardly save himself. You saluted him, causing Connor to smile.

“Nice bracelets.” Gabby said to Ramona, she looked down at them before looking back up. “Thanks.” She said slightly flustered and blushing. “Mo you should see if you and Gabby have any classes together.” You suggested slightly trying to wing woman. “What? Oh yeah!” She said handing over her schedule eagerly to Gabby. Soon enough the two walked off.

“So, Hanna do you have the list for morning announcements?” Jai said, Hanna met him with a confused look as did Luke. “Announcements? Oh yeah! We’ll see you guys after home room!” As they left Connor and you in the hallway. “Your friends really lack subtly.” You said as you watched them go down the hallway, Hanna arguing with Jai while Luke occasionally looked back.

“Oh you have no idea.” He said turning back to you, “Oh! How do you feel about horror movies?” He asked reaching into his backpack. “Top three movie genre. Why?” You asked, he pulled out a small “slashers rule” pin and handed it you. “A formal apology for scaring you in the woods the other night, and you seemed like you’d like it.” He said gesturing to your backpack decorated with pins and patches, you smiled. “I love it.” His nervousness seemed to fade with those three words. “I’ve never really had friends or anyone give me something like this so, thank you.”

“That must’ve been lonely.” He said as you shrugged, it was lonely but it was also complicated. “Yeah but i’m not lonely anymore.” You said as you subconsciously ran your thumb over the pin and looked up at him. He blushed, you’d learned he did that a lot and quite easily none the less.

“So you ready for the shadow bay tour?” He said pushing off the wall, rubbing his hands together. Students had started to clear out of the halls paying absolutely no attention to Connor and yours’ affair in the corner. “Oh definitely. Just so you know i’ve been to four schools over the past eleven years, so you’re competing with that.”

“Oh it’s a competition?” He said with fake outburst laced onto his voice, you nodded with a sarcastic smile that turned genuine. “I think i can handle that.” He said as you two began descending down the halls of Shadow Bay high. Despite your own personal barriers and everything you’d ever been taught in your life, you were falling for Connor. Your better judgement knew that you’d pay for that at some point in your life. Sooner or later, you always did.

hello my loves! This is part one of three and i’m currently working on the other parts!

#are you afraid of the dark #ayaotd #are you afraid of the dark imagine #are you afraid of the dark x reader #connor stevens imagine #connor stevens x reader #luke mccoy #gabby lewis #hanna romero #jai malyas #the midnight society

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thestruidora · 4 years

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Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: So the reader is finally introduced in this chapter, and since she is foreign and I’m Brazilian, she’ll be from Brazil as well, as is easier for me to include a language that I already know (Portuguese) and also cultural curiosities. But our similarities stop there, I’m not trying to make the reader into me, that’d totally defeat the point of writing a reader insert story.

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661

Thank you so much for you guy’s support!

Chapter Three

For those who missed it >>

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Miscommunication

“This not a good idea.” Bucky spoke, for what it seemed to be the hundredth time.

“So you’ve said, over and over again. I didn’t ask you to come, you know? ” Natasha sighed, focused on steadfastly driving the plane, her hands firmly planted on each side of the control wheel. “He’s in pain, Barnes. And if Bruce’s right about his diagnosis, it’s only going to get worse.”

“I’m the last person in the world who wants to see Steve suffering. He’s my best friend, Romanoff.” The Soldier’s shoulders were tense as he looked straight out of the aircraft's window, seeing the big building in the approaching horizon. “But we have to think about what he would want for a second. I mean, he fights to get these kinds of places shut down.”

“Well, Captain America’s moral code is the least of my worries right now.” The redhead’s voice came out in a harsh bark, jaw clenched as she smoothly landed the machine. Once the engines stopped and they took off their seat-belts, she looked over at Bucky, who’s face was series and unreadable. Before he could get up, she stopped him. “Look, I despise this too. But we’ve looked everywhere, Barnes. This is the only way and I… And we have to save him.”

Bucky shook his head, eyebrows knotted in a frown, but eventually opened his expression to her, knowing she was right.

“When he finds out that we came here…” He murmured, letting out a long breath and getting up from his seat, Natasha hot on his tail as they left the plane.

“He’s not going to find out.” She said, voice low but never faltering. He stopped dead in his track, noticing the obvious threat in the Russian Agent’s voice. She kept walking as if nothing happened, never looking back, her stride straight and calm. “Right?”

He looked up at the imposing structure of the building ahead of them, the entire place looked dark and mono-toned, as if it had come out of a horror picture. It was a skyscraper, tall with many floors and windows. Tons and tons of windows, all square and sealed with fat metal bars. A shiver went up his spine when he thought of what was being kept inside of that prison, and Bucky wondered if Steve not knowing about any of this wasn’t for the best after all.

“Right.” He let out, following her to the entry with reluctant feelings.

They stopped at a massive closed gate, noting the security cameras surrounding the whole area. Natasha approached the scanning mechanism at the superior right corner of the iron door, letting it scan her retina. After a couple of seconds, a loud buzzing ringed through their ears and the gate opened slowly.

Surprisingly, the place looked extremely luxurious, thou clean and minimalist. There was a grand open space, completely grassed and filled with flowers, like a secret private garden. There were a couple of trees with comfortable-looking swings on them, providing a welcoming shadow to cool off in summer days. But at the sides of the garden, they could also see two tall stone towers, where armed man monitored Natasha and Bucky’s every move.

Stunned at the juxtaposition of the whole thing, they kept walking towards a fancier looking door than the ones before, this one made of a glass-like material that led to a reception area, where they could see a blonde woman typing away in her computer. Her posture was straight and her physique was lean. Her hair was pulled back in a slick bun, not a single strand out of place, making her forehead look bigger than probably was in reality.

There were a few leather sofas on the lounge, but not one single person in the waiting room but the receptionist, and with the level of security and organization of the place, both agents were willing to bet that whoever came there, didn’t have to wait around for long.

“Merhaba, size nasıl yardımcı olabilirim?” The receptionist spoke once they approached her, not ever looking up from the keyboard she typed on, her clear polished nails nothing but a blur as her fingers moved at top speed.

“Hum… ” Natasha turned to look at Bucky for a second, checking to see if he knew Turkish, because that was, unfortunately, one of the few languages that she was not fluent on. But the brunet simply shrugged, looking at her with an impassive expression taking over his features . “Hi!” She tried, and the second that that simple English word left her lips, the blonde woman behind the desk quit typing, her hands stopping mid-air as she finally looked up at them, a spooked look in her face, her skin tone getting even paler than before, almost as if she had just seen a ghost. “We’re here to speak with Mr. Bürsin, actually.” Natasha continued, sharing an uncertain look with Bucky due to the woman’s reaction .

“You are Natasha Romanoff? Mr. Bürsin had already let me know you were coming, but I was told that you’re Russian and… Alone.” She had a tick accent a strict-looking face, even though her scared expression, her royal-blue blazer just a little too tight for her chesty frame.

“Well, there was a minor change of plans.” Romanoff’s voice and posture shifted, mimicking the blond’s, an old manipulation tactic that always seemed to work on Alpha females, like this one, her pheromones strongly wafting out, overpowering her overly sweet perfume and making Bucky want to growl, but instead, he simply rolled his eyes, not at all caring about the dissatisfaction that his presence caused . “I’m sure he won’t mind, thou.”

“I’m sure he will.” With a frown she picked up the phone on her desk, dialing only one number and then proceeding to have a long conservation in Turkish, before finally hanging up. “Mr. Bürsin will see you now.” She gave off a tight smile , knuckles turning white while she still held on to the phone, and before they could move, she spoke again. “But only Miss Romanoff, not the Alpha.”

“What?” Natasha and Bucky said at the same time.

“Why?” The redhead crossed her arms under her breasts, trying really hard not to get visually annoyed.

“Ma'am, we have protocols in place, he cannot come in.” The woman’s tone was polite, but still condescending.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me. Do I look like a ma’am to you?” Her eyebrows shot up, completely giving up on the previous plan by now. “I’m probably younger than you.”

When the receptionist expression didn’t change, Bucky touched the Russian woman in the arm, getting her attention.

“Romanoff, it’s fine.”

“No, you-”

“This is more important than any of that, remember why we’re here.” His voice was but a whisper, so that only she could hear. “Besides, I pity the fool that tries to mess with you. You can handle yourself, with or without me.” She smiled at that, looking at him for a while before nodding.

“Alright, let’s go.” Natasha said, giving the blonde a pointed look as she got up from her seat and away from her desk, starting to walk towards one of the many corridors of the building.

“Follow me, please.” Her accent hanged heavy, her hips swinging while she strode atop of her hills.

In the hall, Natasha saw many doors, all closed and guarded b y strong, armed man. There was an ample opening at the end of the hall, where the receptionist stopped, indicating for her to continue with a nod of the head.

When she walked in, noting as the woman closed the door behind her, she almost blacked out from the sheer smell of the room. The whole place looked sterile, but still reeked of Omega pheromones. Even for Natasha, a Beta, it was dizzying. Now she understood why it was so imperative that Bucky was not allowed to come inside.

The room was packed full of chairs, placed in a big circle that led to a stage. There were only man sitting in those chairs, all extremely well dressed. Some old, some young, but all clearly rich. Not one of them gave her a second glance, all to focused on what was about to happen on that stage. There was a narrow hallway in the center, in between all of the chairs. And right next to the stage, in a front-row seat, she saw the back of his head, and noticed the empty seat next to his.

Making a beeline for it, she sat down, yearning desperately for a take of fresh air right about now that she was so close to the stage, where the Omega smell was the strongest, being slowly mixed with all of those Alpha’s scents.

“Do me a favor and warn me next time you bring a friend, will you?” Emir Bürsin’s voice was low and raspy, the light golden hair in his head tinning out and turning grey with age. But still, he was a very handsome man. Strong and muscular, but not bulky, with long, big arms straining inside of this tailored suit jacket.

“There will be no next time.” Natasha was quick to answer, not at all impressed by his imposing build. He gave her one fast look, a crooked smile plastered on his face as he sat down in his front-row chair like a king, legs crossed in a nonchalant display.

“Oh, I bet. Once you try one of my girls, you’ll never want for seconds.” His smile became even bigger when Natasha couldn’t control the disgusted look in her eyes. “But you’re not shopping for yourself today, are you, Widow?”

She didn’t appreciate the use of the nickname, turning to stare at the stage as the lights of the room stared dimming and a cold-toned spotlight shone brightly at the center of the stage.

“No, definitely not.” He laughed to himself as she continued to ignore his remarks, frowning a bit when slow background music started to play. “You know, in this business people talk. And I happened to hear such an interesting tale.”

“I’m dying to hear it.” She murmured, the sarcasm strongly embedded in her features by then.

“I heard- oh, thank you.” He was cut off as different Beta woman, clearly assistants of the place, began to give out number plates to each and every man sitting in the room, making a point not to give one to Natasha. She frowned again at that, getting more and more confused by the minute. As they continued to work the room, he proceeded . “I heard that one of your brand-new, shiny superhero friends got himself into a pretty sticky situation, if you know what I mean. Apparently — and again, this all word-of-mouth —, he succumbed into such a bad rut, that he may actually die if he doesn’t get his hands on an Omega, can you imagine that ? Dying from horniness?”

His scoff was loud on Natasha’s ears, and she never had to restrain herself from punching someone so bad.

“And after years without speaking, completely out of the blue, you call me up to ask for a favor.” A man appeared on stage and, wearing a suit and tie, he stood behind a podium, turning on the microphone in front of him and shuffling through cards. “And that favor just so happens to be exactly what our favorite Captain needs to survive, isn’t that such a funny coincidence? Don’t you just love when the universe plays this crazy pranks on us? I mean, what are the odds of these two situations not being connected?”

By the time he was done, the man on stage had started to talk in Turkish, and the audience cheered on to whatever he was saying.

“What do you want to keep your mouth shut about this, Emir? More money?” Natasha asked, mouth forming a little circle when an entirely naked woman entered the stage, s topping in the middle of the stoplight. Her hands were mechanically stuck to her sides, her limbs clearly trembling as she just stood there, completely exposed for those man’s eyes.

“Money? Fuck money, I got enough of that. I want security.” Natasha wasn’t fully processing the conversation at that point, looking over at Emir who had picked up his number plate and put it up, waiting for it to get acknowledged by the man behind the podium before putting it down.

“What do you mean?” Her lips were moving, she knew she was forming words, but a big part of her brain wasn’t truly there.

Her eyes scanned throughout the room, seeing as other men were also putting their plates up, and that’s finally when it hit her. Her blood ran cold when she realized what was happening, and her vision got stuck on that poor girl standing there, her body shaven from eyebrows down, beginning to follow the instructions of the spokesman, turning around to show the audience her form from behind, and them proceeding to slightly open her legs to show the inside of…

Natasha closed her eyes, not wanting to see more, turning so that Emir couldn’t see her face. She felt like throwing up, a little lightheaded as well. So this was what he did here, he ran auctions, Omega auctions.

“I want the security of knowing that no matter what happens, neither you or anyone of your super assholes are going to come busting through here and ruin my business, that’s what I want.” She tried swallowing down the knot that had formed in her throat, putting on her best poker face to look back at him, only to find the man smiling over winning the bidding. He turned to her, putting the plate down on his lap as the girl left the stage and another waked in right after. “ Do we have an understanding ?”

“We do.” The steadiness of her voice shocked even Natasha herself, but Emir didn’t seem to notice a thing, looking comfortable and relaxed, not taken aback one bit by the situation that was taken place.

“Lovely.” He quickly got up, leaving the number plate on top of his seat, and closed his jacket, exaggerating the slimness of his waist. “So, now that we got that out of the way, do you want to come and meet the present that I hand-wrapped for Mr. Rogers myself?”

Natasha got up as well, trying to ignore the raging feeling running through her body, forcing herself to think of Steve, to think back to the reason she was there, and nod in response to his question, instead of doing what she really would like to, which would be betting him into a pulp.

“I just hope I got the right size.” He chirped as they star ted walking out of the auction room, out into the corridor and entering one of the many doors, where a small bedroom was home to a frightened-looking young woman.

Everything hurt.

His whole body ached, literally. He could literally feel the muscles underneath his skin contracting and expanding, and the pain was all so bad. He could feel his lungs enlarging as he breathed air in and shrinking as he exhaled it out, and the burn was almost maddening.

This wasn’t what a normal rut was supposed to feel like, of that Steve was sure. No other person should ever have to feel the way he was feeling, ever.

This was hell.

His own bedroom ha d become hell.

His back was pressed to the bed, the sheets were so soaked with sweat that he felt like he could drown. He tried showering, but that had been a bad idea altogether.

He hated the hellfire that his skin had become, that he had passed the point of feverish a long time ago and now whenever the cold water hit his flesh, vapor could be seen wafting through the air.

But that wasn’t even the worst part, it was the smell. The simple smell of soap, from that ‘vintage’ brand that tries to recreate the classic scents from older eras, the one that he used to love. Now, that smell made him want to trow up.

Now, most smells around his house hit him differently, making his stomach turn and nausea overtake him. He definitely hasn’t eaten in a while, he could see it too, in the quick passing glances he gives to the mirror, how skinnier he has gotten.

The bed is the only place where he doesn’t feel like putting his guts out. Because it smells of him. Only him, and nothing else. No one else. Isn’t that sad? That his body so desperately earns for another, but since it can’t have it, it prefers to slowly shut down and die alone.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, and Steve berried his face in his pillow, a growling noise involuntarily coming from his chest at the idea of having to come to the door. That was the worst part of his apartment. The one that smelled the least like him and more like others, especially like Alphas. Oh, god, he hates Alphas. And yes, that includes himself.

“Steve?” He could hear a female voice from outside the door, calling out to him, and the Alpha inside got excited for a second, before the scent of Beta hit his nose, making his face contour into a grimace. “It’s Natasha, can I come in?”

He could hear keys jiggling before he could even answer. Hadn’t he made her give him the keys to his apartment last time?

“No!” He screamed at her, his voice hoarse due to the lack of use.

He wanted to die, in private, was that so hard to understand?

“Well, too bad.” He could hear when she closed the door behind her and began walking towards his room.

“Don’t come in.” He barked as her shadow stopped outside of his door, which was almost completely closed, if not by a tiny slit.

“What? Why?”

Because your mere presence makes me want to break every single square inch of this bedroom while I trow up on top of the debris. That’s what he wanted to say, but instead- “I’m naked.”

“I’ve seen you naked already.” She sighed from behind the barrier that separated her from entering his room, invading his space. And he really didn’t want to be rude to her, not again, but Natasha could be really push y , and it’s not like he could control most of the words that come out of his mouth in the state’s his in.

“And I didn’t like it then, nor will I like it now.” He tried to stop the relief that rushed through him when he heard her murmur a small ‘ok’. “What do you want, Nat?”

“Look, we don’t have much time now, and Banner says the only thing that’s keeping you alive after all these days suffering through what your body’s been suffering is also the thing that made you sick in the first place: the serum. He says that the only thing that you’ll get better and survive this, is seeing your rut out with an Omega.”

At the mere mention of the word, his dick twitched, a wave of pleasure-laced pain cutting through his lower body, and Steve had to contain a moan, embarrassment warming his cheeks even more than they already were.

“I already heard all that before, Nat. I know my situation, but it’s too late now.” He gritted his teeth against each other, getting pretty good at coasting through the pain by then. “And I’m fine with that.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that.” Maybe she could hear his eyes rolling, because before he tried to ask her to leave once more she spoke again. “Listen, Steve, I know you didn’t want anyone to know about what is happening to you, and I wanted to respect that, but I… But none of us could just sit by and watch you die.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, her vocal cords scraping against each other ruggedly, creating an unpleasant sound and making it clear that she was nervous, but Steve let her continue, his heart beating faster with her every word.

“So Tony put out an ad, letting people know that Captain America was in need of help, and if any Omega out there was willing they could come to the facility and get tested to see if they were compatible with you. A lot of women showed up — shocker —,” She let out a humorless laugh, listening to nothing but silence in return, “but most of them weren’t even Omegas, and the ones that were weren’t compatible with you. But finally, yesterday, this foreign girl showed up, she doesn’t know much English, but she says that you saved her in Sokovia and that she’d like to save you now. So, if you still want me to go and leave you be, I will, but if you’re done with this whole self-loathing and self-harm thing, I could invite her in, and you two could have tons of savage sex and also not die.”

A long time went by after that, a long period of silence, where only Steve’s labored breathing could be heard. He didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t intentional. He was stunned, actually, still trying to digest everything that Natasha had said. Considering every word, processing it slower than he usually would in his natural state.

“Steve?” The redhead’s voice ringed, waking him up from his trance. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“She’s outside?!” Was the first thing that he could think of saying, voice strained, sounding a little scared, even.

“Yeah, me and Bruce brought her over. Like I said, she knows very little English but she was clear on the fact that she wanted to help you.”

“And we’re compatible?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, my God. Just put some clothes on and get out here!” She demanded, bossy as always, but his Alpha wouldn’t take that, not right now. A loud growl emerged from him, and Steve had to physically restrain himself from breaking something.

Still, he took a deep breath, his head hurt so bad that he wasn’t sure he was capable of getting up. But he pushed through, having to hold his head with both hands to try and make the room stop spinning. Very slowly he got out of bed, immediately missing the familiarity that it provided him.

He looked over at his closet, seeing all of his clothes laid out neatly, and only the thought of having any of that fabric on top of his skin was painful enough to make him give up on that premise entirely and put on his robe instead. Th e feel of it was still very much wrong, but knowing that he would be able to take it off much quicker than any other piece of clothing was just a little more soothing.

If there was one thing you needed to understand about Steve Rogers, is that he was a planner. He not only loved to plan, he was good at it too. He’d plan his missions, his day s , his meals, everything meticulously. That was when he was at he’s most comfortable, making up a plan and following it through. He wasn’t completely against making things up as he went, but saying that it didn’t make him anxious would be a lie.

He always preferred to know how things were going to play out, and this wasn’t any different. He had already created a route for this whole rut sickness deal: he was slowing going to die alone inside of his room, leave his shield to Sam and his comic book collection to Bucky, maybe his record player and records would go to Tony, and he would leave that pretty brooch he got from his mom to Natasha. That was it. It was a date.

But all of that changed now and he had to reroute his way around this. And that’s precisely what he was doing as he approached the door, already having wrapped himself in his robe.

He was going to go out there, tell this poor girl that she didn’t owe him anything, that he was happy to know that he had saved her life in Sokovia, and that she should go out into the world and find love, not wait around like had. Then he would apologize for his friends bringing her here, tell them all to leave him alone for good, and he’d even keep his posture throughout the whole ordeal.

That was the new plan, and he was happy with it. Yeah, this was good. This could work.

“Finally.” Steve heard Natasha say when he left his bedroom, entering the living room, a weird fuzzy feeling catching a hold of him for some reason. “So, can I tell Banner to let her in?”

He simply nodded, not sure what to do with a different kind of sensation starting in his lower abdomen. It wasn’t necessarily good, but it wasn’t bad either, which was surprising, because all he could feel of lately was bad. An uneasy, unplaceable feeling forming. And it was something completely new. Was it… Excitement?

Natasha opened the entry door of his apartment again, getting out but leaving it open. He could hear her and Bruce talking softly in the hallway, but he didn’t care to try to understand what they were saying, he didn’t care about anything, not anymore.

Because even before they walked back in, with a young woman following close behind them, with her hair pulled back and a makeup clean face, eyes glued to the ground and hands closed together in front of her body, he had already smelled her. He had already taken a big whiff of that intoxicating scent, goosebumps staring at the back of his neck, travelling all the way to his cock and making it leak precum. He had already set his eyes on that Omega.

And by then, he knew.

Fuck the plan.

243 notes · View notes

dreamiehrs · 4 years

Text

be careful what you wish for... it may already be true ➛ l.jn

lee jeno x reader ∗ fluff, witch!jeno, witch!y/n, gender neutral reader, fantasy!au ∗ length: 2,070 words

“jeno, don’t you think it’s ridiculous that you’re going to try to get y/n’s attention by a mere love potion? do you really think that’s gonna work on them?” renjun follows jeno closely in his basement, which was where jeno would make concoctions ranging from personality potions to death potions. he was quite the powerful potion maker, one of the most popular in the magic academy he attended.

renjun does his best not to trip over any equipment in jeno’s basement as jeno stands in front of a large wooden table, which was littered with tons of flasks, beakers, test tubes, pipettes, etc. if you could name it, it was probably on the table. jeno scoffs as he crouches down, finding his potion book in one of the drawers and pulling it out. “what’s the worst that could happen? why wouldn’t it work on them?”

“...the worst that could happen is that it doesn’t work and they could end up hating you forever! don’t you ever put this type of stuff into consideration?” renjun warns, watching as jeno studies each page of his brown leather book before flipping to the next page. his eyebrows furrow until he finds the page he was looking for, and walks around the table to his pantry, that was full of herbs and liquids to make his desired potion.

jeno chuckles, almost arrogantly, as he picks out a bottle full of rose leaves. “my potions never fail, junnie, you know this. I’m one of the best potion makers in this entire academy, so this potion definitely won’t backfire on me. if it does, I can just reverse it with one of my spells... however, I’m not really confident in spell-casting yet, so that may do more worse than good.” he hums to himself, picking out a few more things before turning back to face renjun.

“you’re too cocky for your own good, jeno. one day your potion is gonna fail on you, and you’re gonna have to face the consequences sooner or later. I’m not gonna stick along when that happens, so you’ll be all on your own when you have to deal with something like that.” renjun proclaims, now leaning against a wall with his dark brown owl familiar perched on his shoulder. renjun had named him owlvin because, well, it’s renjun we’re talking about here.

jeno slips on some gloves and gets to work on the potion, turning his oven on and filling up a medium pot full of water to make his potion with. “glad to know what type of friend you are, junnie.” he adds his ingredients one by one and starts to chant something quietly to himself as his concoction starts to lightly simmer.

renjun rolls his eyes, and owlvin snuggles up to his neck. this potion definitely wasn’t going to work, he thought to himself.

...

a few days later, after jeno had perfected his love potion to use on you, he seals it up in a light pink water bottle, so he wouldn’t mix it up with his regular water bottle. he was determined that this would work on you, and if it didn’t, he would resort to other ways to get you to fall in love with him.

you were a witch yourself, and although you would love nothing more than to get to know jeno, the famous potion maker at the academy, your friends had their suspicions about him.

“he acts so nice, but what if that’s all an act?” jisung mumbles beside you as the two of you were walking down the hallway, using his levitate spell to make the bag of popcorn levitate in front of himself. he pops a few pieces into his mouth, accidentally dropping some down onto the floor in the process.

“I beg to differ, sungie. I don’t think y/n would be interested in a guy who only fakes his kindness just to get rewards out of it, right, y/n?” chenle speaks up from your left, making sure to pick up any fallen popcorn pieces that jisung had accidentally knocked over.

you nod at his words, and jisung proceeds to catapult a popcorn piece at chenle’s head. chenle practically screams an “ow!” with his dramatic self, and luckily, the other students around you three didn’t even react, because they’re so used to chenle screaming for no reason now.

as the three of you enter the canteen, you come face-to-face with (speak of the devil) lee jeno. you do your best not to let your cheeks heat up as he looks at you expectantly. jisung stares him down from your right until chenle drags him off in another direction, giving you and jeno some privacy.

“y/n,” he breathes out, having to compose himself briefly before continuing. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?”

you raise an eyebrow before a chuckle leaves your mouth. “as long as it doesn’t have to do with cursing someone, then yes, I can probably do something for you, jen.”

his eyes widened. “of course not! I would never ask you to do something that dangerous... I wouldn’t want to put you in danger. anyways,” he pauses, pulling out a pink water bottle from his bag. “I was wondering if you could test out my luck potion for me?”

you take the bottle from his hands, inspecting the liquid inside of it. usually, luck potions were a gold-ish color, that would sparkle in the sunlight. however, this one was a rosy pink, which highly resembles a love potion. you were skeptical, to say the least, but knowing jeno, he wouldn’t pull off a stunt like this on you.

you nod, opening the cap of the bottle. “of course! I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow, alright?” he looks at you hopefully as you take a swig of the drink, almost cringing at how sweet it was. you send him a smile, and he seems relieved as you do so.

“right. see you tomorrow!” he runs off into the canteen to spill what he did to renjun, while you glance warily at the drink in your hands.

...

“...so? did it work?” renjun questions a few days later in the canteen, stabbing his fork in a piece of watermelon before popping it into his mouth. jeno sat there dejectedly in front of him, his tray still full of food as he picked at it occasionally. “hey, if you don’t eat now, you’re gonna end up regretting it later.”

jeno groans, pushing his hair back in frustration. “I don’t know! the day after I gave her the potion, she told me that it didn’t seem to work, and she gave me back my water bottle, which was half full of the potion.”

“wait... what potion did you tell her you were giving to her?” renjun deadpans, and owlvin coos when he sees jeno still.

jeno gulps. “I... uh... may have told her that it was a luck potion instead of a love potion...” he mumbles, and he can hear renjun sigh from in front of him. when he looks up, he notices that owlvin is facepalming with his left wing at jeno’s confession.

“you know you have to tell them eventually, right? it’s unfair that they don’t know it was actually a love potion... I mean, maybe they already figured that out, since they’re a witch as well.”

renjun was right, as always, and owlvin nodded his head in his agreement with renjun’s words. jeno groaned once again, tangling his fingers in his hair as he realized he’s messed up, and bad. you probably already knew that it was a love potion just from how he saw you examining it, so why didn’t you decline testing his potion? “you’re probably right, junnie. why haven’t they said anything, thou–”

“jeno?” he’s interrupted by your voice, and he flinches before glancing to his left, where you were now seated. renjun silently chuckles to himself as jeno’s draw practically drops, and he has to do his best to cover up his grinning face as he watches the two of you from the sidelines.

“y-yes?” jeno stutters within your presence, and you give him a sweet smile to soothe his nerves.

“can we talk about something, please? in private?” you send a glance in renjun’s direction, and jeno seems to pick up on that immediately. he turns to be met with renjun’s knowing look, and that’s all it takes for jeno to nod his head before glancing back at you.

jeno stands up and grasps your hand, pulling you up with him gently. “of course. let’s go to the courtyard.” he states, and as the two of you walk to the courtyard together, he can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. even though he seemed composed conversing with you on the outside, he could feel himself practically exploding on the inside.

...

you two find a bench to sit down comfortably onto, and you turn your body towards him. “I wanted to talk to you about that potion that I tested out for you a few days ago. I know you said it was a luck potion when you gave it to me, but when I inspected it further, it resembled more of a love potion.”

he nods, playing with his hands nervously as he meets your gaze. it wasn’t an angry, disappointed glint that flashed through your eyes like he had expected. your gaze was soft as you looked at him, waiting for his next move. he was briefly surprised, and he made up his mind in a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry, y/n. it’s as exactly as you had assumed. it was a love potion that I had given you a few days ago, and for why I did so, it’s because I... I have had a crush on you for the past three years, and no matter how much time I would spend around you, trying to get you to have mutual feelings for me as well, it never seemed to work out. I know it was messed up, to give you a love potion without you knowing, and I hope you’ll forgive me for what I’ve done.”

his head hangs low as he studies the ground underneath him, not noticing how you have a huge smile on your face. “I already knew it was a love potion, jen. also, don’t worry, I forgive you.”

his head whips up to meet your gaze. “y-you knew?” he stammers out, his cheeks flushing a pink when he sees you nod.

“I knew it from the start, just from taking a good look at the liquid’s color. so, I wasn’t surprised that it wouldn’t work on me, mainly because I knew what it was already, but also because of another reason...” you trail off.

“another reason? w-what’s that?”

you scoot closer to him, and his eyes widen at the proximity between you two. “because love potions don’t work on someone when they’re already in love.”

“you’re already in love? with who?” he wonders, seeing how your eyes sparkle as you gaze at him. you hold back a chuckle at his question, and he looks at you, confused.

“oh, jen, you’re almost as oblivious as you’re confident. I thought it was obvious from the start, from the day the two of us had met, but if I have to spell it out for you, then so be it. I’m in love with you, jeno.” you use your hand to gently push away the hair that had fallen close to his eyes, and he locks eyes with you after you say this.

he couldn’t believe his ears, and his eyes for that matter, as you slowly started leaning in closer to him, your eyes flickering down to glance at his lips and then back up at him. when your lips collide with his, fireworks explode in his stomach as he cups one of your cheeks with his hand, eventually relaxing into the kiss.

as he’s having his moment with you, he realizes something. maybe he didn’t have to go through all of that work to get you to fall for him when you already were.

the universe works in certain ways to bring two people together, and luckily, for you and jeno, you didn’t have to do much to be brought together naturally.

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

In Love and Death 6

Harry Potter AU

Link to Part 5

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M

________

Evan lay looking up at the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in over half an hour. Dolohov leaned over to Rodolphus Lestrange.

“Should we poke him or something? Is he dead?”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes.

“He’s blinking, idiot. Rosier, it's been 30 minutes, can you get yourself together?”

Evan sat up running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. He scowled angrily at his two former associates. Both men appeared a bit bored and put out with his reaction.

“I am sorry that I am boring the lot of you with the news that my baby is having a child. I am going to be a grandfather at 20. There is something fucked up about that.”

Dolohov held a hand up.

“You're technically not 20.”

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR INPUT!”

Evan yelled. Rodolphus held up a hand.

“What?”

Evan snapped. Rodolphus shrugged.

“Y/n technically isn’t a baby. She’s an 18-year-old auror that almost took my head off. Y/n is vicious. She would be good on our side but we all know that isn’t going to happen.”

Evan’s wand was out before Rodolphus could say a word. He pointed the wand right at his friend and muttered “crucio.” Evan was not going to deal with this shit from his own friends. He was dealing with enough torture from his former best friend and daughter. The last thing that Evan needed was help from anyone else.

(meanwhile)

Regulus sat at the dining room table thumbing through a book. He glanced down at his watch curiously. You had been called out for a job the previous night and had not returned. Regulus had expected you home before now and was beginning to get worried. It didn’t help that you didn’t answer the stupid cell phone that Regulus still hated.

“There you are. You are a hard guy to find.”

Regulus glanced up to see Sirius standing in the doorway. Neither brother had said a word to the other in a few days and it hadn’t bothered Regulus one bit. Regulus felt a lot better since he had gotten his feelings off of his chest. Years of holding in how he felt about Sirius had finally escaped.

To Sirius’ displeasure, Regulus said nothing. His eyes went back to the book in front of him acting as though Sirius didn’t exist. Sirius stood a moment before sitting down across from Regulus.

“You are going to talk to me. I’ll be so annoying that you’ll sink to my level like a rock! I don’t know what makes you think that you are so much better than me. I asked you to come with me that night but you wouldn’t leave mum. You are a spoiled mummy’s boy who would do anything that they told you. I shouldn't be surprised though. You would never give James or any of my friends a chance. You were too busy with your holier than thou friends who were all a bunch of pureblood snoots.”

Regulus leaned back in his chair.

“I am hearing a lot of yous but not a lot of me. You, my dear brother, are a fine one to talk about someone being arrogant. Now stop posturing me and go away. I’m busy.”

Sirius smirked.

“Look at that! Your power of speech has been renewed. What are you doing anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Sirius watched as Regulus’ eyes flickered to his watch.

“Waiting on Y/n, huh? I’m sure she is just fine. I never thought that I would see the day that you would go gaga over a girl. To be honest, we all thought that you were asexual or something. I don’t think that I ever saw you talk to a girl.”

Regulus swallowed back the rage that was beginning to build.

“That right there shows that you know nothing about me. You don’t know about Ambrosia or any of the other girls that I dated. You were too busy being a manwhore. Now, as I said, leave me alone.”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, we are fixing our problems!”

“Somethings can’t be fixed.”

Regulus replied. Sirius jumped up.

“Stop being a control freak and listen to me!”

(meanwhile)

You stood outside the door waiting for all of the security enchantments to let you in. Tonks had been mostly quiet since she started throwing up in the neighbor's bushes. Your eyes flickered over to your best friend whose color closely resembled the half-rotten lime that was in the refrigerator.

“I think that you are going to be on desk duty soon.”

You commented as Tonks looked up.

“Ugh, no. I do not want to be on desk duty while you are out running around having fun.”

You scoffed.

“I wouldn’t consider being thrown against a wall by some overgrown death eater fun but if you insist.”

Tonks smirked as she laid her head on your shoulder.

“Watching you quote Supernatural was fun. I quote My name is Y/n Rosier. Prepare to die. That is going to be a classic.”

You shrugged.

“Good times, huh? Do me a solid and don’t tell any member of the male race in this house what happened last night. Regulus is already tense enough without me telling him that my head bashed into some brick. I mean, yeah, we beat that guy up and threw him in a cell with his name on it but if Reggie finds out that I got hurt...he will want to go to work with me.”

Tonks knew that you were right. Regulus was protective enough of you without her help.

“I won’t. Now come on, I really need to make a potion for my stomach trouble.”

The both of you stepped inside to hear Sirius and Regulus yelling random obscenities at each other. Your eyes rolled over to your friend.

“Here we go.”

The two of you quickly walked into the dining room where Regulus and Sirius had destroyed the room trying to hex each other. It looked like after destroying the room, they decided to beat the crap out of each other seemed to be the next best thing to try. Kreacher meanwhile, stood in the corner with a dustpan and a broom muttering about Sirius being a filthy blood traitor and starting everything. There was also something about "his poor mistresses treasures being broken."

“What the hell is going on around here?”

You snapped. Both Regulus and Sirius didn’t turn to look at Tonks nor yourself.

“We are just playing.”

Sirius replied.

“Go away, love. We are dealing with a problem.”

Regulus added. You blinked a few times before quickly going back into “work mode.” Tonks had started to try to break it up but you gently pushed her away and shoved yourself between both brothers.

“I said that is enough...both of you.”

You said in an authoritative tone that you typically had to take with morons that you were about to lock up.

“We aren’t done.”

Sirius hissed. You turned your attention to the elder brother.

“Sirius, don’t make me shove you in that other room. You know that I can too.”

Regulus laughed.

“Get shoved around by a girl, do you? That has to hurt your male pride.”

Your attention went back to your own lover. His eyes were wild and he looked as if he was ready to start letting the hexes fly again.

“I said ENOUGH! Regulus, Sirius knows that you think he is a selfish asshole. Sirius, Regulus knows that you think he is a selfish little prat. We don’t need to hear it again.”

You turned your attention back to Regulus.

“Come on, Reggie.”

Regulus turned his attention back to you. He felt a little embarrassed that it was you that had to come in and stop the ridiculousness between Sirius and himself.

“Where are we going?”

He asked, softly. You pulled your coat back on before tossing him his.

“My grandmothers. She asked to see me and I figured it would be a great time to give her the gift that we talked about.’

It was Sirius’ turn to frown. You going around your pureblood family was a horrible idea in the making. What if Evan was there?

“Um, why don’t you two go see other people? What is the gift? Did you buy her an urn to put your mother’s ashes in?”

Tonks elbowed Sirius in the side as you turned. You surprisingly laughed.

“Good one. Grandmother would just put her in a trash bag if she was given the choice. The gift is me dating another pureblood. She simply won’t know what to do with herself. We are going because I need to get information on my father.”

“But...it's dangerous.”

Sirius commented. You smiled and wrapped your hand through Regulus’ in hopes to calm his temper that was still raging.

“Between Regulus and myself, we will be just fine. Go deal with Dora, she has been puking in the neighbors' bushes. You or Remus caused this problem..go fix it.”

Sirius winced before leaving the room.

(Twenty minutes later)

You stood outside of your grandmother’s door with a sigh. Regulus watched you from the corner of his eye as you raised your hand to knock a few times but stopped. In the few months that the two of you had been a couple, you had barely spoken to your family.

“We are going to be standing here all day if you don’t knock already.”

Regulus hissed. You turned to your boyfriend.

“I don’t like my family.”

Regulus smirked. He leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“What a coincidence. I hate mine too. Maybe it's a good thing that we can’t have kids. They would be making our lives a lot worse. Granted, most of my family is dead except my stupid brother. My mother’s portrait could screech from her painting. That would be miserable.”

You looked down at your feet for a minute.

“We can always keep trying. I know a lot of people who weren’t supposed to be able to have kids and when they gave up...boom they were pregnant.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. He wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to him.

“We don’t need to follow in Tonks and those dorks that she’s dating’s footsteps to be happy. We have been happy just fine without this conversation not coming up. Besides, I like being able to have my way with you whenever I damn well please.”

Regulus was relieved when you smiled.

“You’re right. We are going to be just fine. When we get home, we can scare the crap out of your brother. Might as well get this over with.”

You finally knocked on the door before stepping back and intertwining your hand with Regulus’ waiting hand. The moment the door opened, your grandmother’s house elf “Daisy” stood on the other side. She looked up at you with a sour expression that the unfriendly creature wore so well. You couldn’t help but think that Kreacher and Daisy would really hit it off. They could probably compare notes on which family member that they hated the most.

“Mistress Y/n...a long time its been.”

You nodded.

“Yes, it has. I would like to see grandmother, Daisy.”

Daisy nodded and led you down a dark hallway. You kept your hand locked around Regulus as the darkness of the home soured your mood. The Rosier family home was as gloomy and depressing as the Black family home.

“Mistress, you have a visitor.”

Daisy announced as you stepped into the sitting room. Your grandmother sat with a knitting pattern in front of her. Her blue eyes were clearly surprised to see you and even more surprised to see Regulus.

“Y/n...Regulus...how is this possible?”

She asked, standing up. It had been years since she learned of Regulus Black’s death. Evan had been a wreck when he found out that his best friend “died” now here he stood looking just as he had the last time that he was seen.

“I can’t answer that, Mrs. Rosier.”

Regulus answered. Your grandmother was pleased enough with the response. Stranger things had happened over the past few weeks.

“Well, sit.”

Mrs. Rosier stated before returning back to her chair. She watched as you sat down beside Regulus. It didn’t take her having years of experience on this earth to know that the two of you were a couple.

“So, Y/n do you have something to tell me?”

You knew that this was coming.

“Regulus and I are a couple, grandmother.”

Your grandmother immediately looked pleased as a plum. This was clearly the news that she had been waiting to hear. After you became an auror and “let the family down” it was wonderful news to discover that you were dating a pureblood man that was decent and worthy (in your grandmother’s eyes).

“I am actually aware. Your father came to see me.”

Your grandmother smiled when your face went serious.

“He doesn't seem very pleased with the news, however.”

She added as your attention went to Regulus.

“I know, grandmother. He is having a bit of a cow over it.”

Your grandmother picked up her knitting needles and went back to work.

“You have to understand, Y/n, the last time that your father saw you was many years ago when you were a little girl. Finding out that you are an adult with a lover has to be hard for him to process.”

You frowned.

“So hard to process that he went and killed my mother.”

Your grandmother scowled at you.

“Yes, a real tragedy. Tell Evan that I said hello and he owes me five minutes of civilized conversation that doesn’t result in us trying to hex each other.”

Your grandmother stood up. Her displeased expression returned.

“Y/n, it's time that you stop this nonsense that you have been doing. You are a Rosier and it's time that you start acting like one. Your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew that you were an auror who is locking up our friends. Leave the room, Y/n. I want to talk to Regulus alone.”

You waited until Regulus gently patted your leg before standing up and walking out.

Mrs. Rosier closed the door behind her before pouring a glass of whiskey and handing it to Regulus.

“What are your intentions?”

“Intentions?”

Regulus questioned, softly. Mrs. Rosier smiled. She was used to Regulus Black’s silence. From the time that the boy was born, Mrs. Rosier had always adored Regulus Black’s shy nature.

“What do you intend to do with my granddaughter?”

Regulus had a feeling where this was going.

“You can tell Evan that I love her more than life itself. That should clearly state my intentions.”

Mrs. Rosier grinned.

“My son is convinced that you have abandoned the dark lord. I do hope that you remember the oath that you took when you accepted that mark on your arm.”

Regulus frowned.

“The dark lord is dead, Mrs. Rosier. What's left of our side is being swept up and sent off to Azkaban. You may want to tell Evan that he better watch his back just like I am having to watch mine.”

Mrs. Rosier smiled coldly.

“My dear boy...it looks like Y/n and yourself are being kept in the dark. The dark lord is back and strengthening with each day. Maybe you should consult with Y/n’s little friend Harry Potter about it. He, after all, saw everything and it's been all over the daily prophet. It makes sense that you didn’t know. Being an inferi for all of these years results in one not knowing all that is happening.”

Regulus sat taking in Mrs. Rosier’s words with a dark expression on his face. Was she right?

“I guess we shall see.”

Regulus commented before standing up.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. Rosier. I promised, Y/n a date.”

________

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thou-crusty-batch-of-nature · 4 years

Text

Say you won’t let go

pairing: sirius x reader

request: hey sweetie! congrats on 100, you deserve them all and more 💞 Can i request a sirius x reader with prompts 4&5 from the “goofy” list? thank you

requested by @angelinathebook

4. "I drank far too little alcohol too listen to this."

5. "I hope you know that my name isn't actually darling."

A/N: I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCH!! thank you for requesting! I also kinda fell in love with Sirius… oopsie! let me know what you think

thank you my dear friend @slytherinquill for helping me out❤️❤️

party | prompt list

"No Lily, you don't understand! He is a bloody git!" you tried to explain to your best friend, who wasn't convinced at all. "How dare he think he is entitled to have any girl he wants?"

"Well, he is quite charming!" Lily cut in.

"Oh shut up - you have James! Besides, he is highly overrated!" you started. "Good thing girls can't leave reviews on boys, otherwise all of his would sound like '⅕ Would not recommend. Experienced severe heart aches.'"

"Here we go…" Lily sighed.

"He is a womaniser, Lily! I thought you were a feminist, where is your spirit? Those poor girls, getting their hearts crushed one by one..." you went on as you sat down with your friend at the enormous tables from the Great Hall.

Thing was, you knew better than anyone else how that type of heartbreak felt like, after all, you were one of those girls. You have been irremediably in love with him since you can remember, however, you've always been too shy to admit it. When girls started taking an interest in him in fourth year, your friendship slowly drifted apart. And that broke your heart more than you could imagine.

It did hurt at first. You felt that sudden drop of your stomach, the kind of panic you face when you know something bad is going to happen. You know, when you're riding a bike and it wobbles? When you think you'll fall - that's the feeling.

Then it was the pain; that searing, excruciating pain that travelled through your whole body. That stayed longer than you expected. Now, in your seventh year, you felt ready to move on; you had to. Still, your breath hitched every time you saw a new girl standing next to him - it was the constant reminder that you were never going to be good enough.

So you turned the page. The heartbreak became hatred - well, as much hatred as possible, for you still had a soft spot for a certain marauder. But of course, no one knew that.

"Good day to thou, fair damsels! Lily, thou dost takest my breath away! Y/N, how met!" shouted James, who was entering the hall. He kissed Lily's hand then sat down opposite us. "How do you feel about a small gathering tonight in the common room?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Are you serio-kidding me James? A party?" asked Lily. "The NEWTS are next week, why not just wait a bit?"

"Lily's right, I'm really behind with my studies. Think I'll pass this one."

"Now, now, darling, you wouldn't want to be the party pooper! Live a little!" Sirius joined, taking the seat next to you.

"I 'live' every week! Also, I hope you know that my name isn't actually 'Darling'." you retorted.

"Of course I know that, darling! It's just that you are as much of a darling as I am Sirius!" You sent a death glare to Lily who was snickering, unfazed by the situation.

"I'll see if I can make it." you said instead of a goodbye, then left. You could swear you saw Sirius' face fall.

xxx

"Are you sure you want to study all night?" Marlene yelled from the bathroom.

"Yeeeees. It's the second time you ask me in 10 minutes! I'm not going to change my mind!"

"And are you sure you don't want any of us to stay with you?" asked Lily while touching up her make-up. She looked stunning in a short emerald silk dress which brought out her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm certain. Now you girls go make some girlfriends jealous!" you joked. "You look fabulous!"

Two hours later you finally gave up. You couldn't possibly study for two reasons: one, the music was blasting way too loudly and two: your mind kept wandering to other places - for example, what your friends were doing. Or should you say whom?

You decided to head for a quiet place to revise your last chapters for Transfiguration. You slipped out of the common room without anyone noticing, and soon found yourself in one of your favourite places, the quad. You didn't even have the time to make yourself comfortable, when you heard a voice.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." you retorted.

"Why weren't you at the party?"

"Why do you care? Did you get bored of the flirting and decided to try your luck on me? Or did you just remember that I exist?"

"I drank far too little alcohol to listen to this." Sirius smiled grimly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Why do you hate me so much? We used to be friends. What happened to us?"

"Well, for starters, you put your precious bimbos above our friendship. And you started breaking every one's heart, including-" you took a sharp breath. That was close.

"Including what? Tell me!" he whispered softly, stepping closer.

"Including mine." You grabbed your things and left. You hadn't realised you were crying.

xxx

Two weeks passed as a breeze, along with your only distraction: the NEWTS. You used to study with Lily, James and Remus every night in the library, and it was the only thing that kept your mind from wandering to that particular night.

He tried to talk to you, but you shrugged him off every time. You knew you'd cave in if you let him speak. You knew that since that night, the spark you thought was extinguished has been threatening to become a fire.

You were a liar. And you kept lying to yourself, until all those feelings came tumbling down even stronger than before. Still, your mind tried to reason with your soul. If only you could stop your heart from beating faster every time you saw him!

"So, are you guys coming to the party tonight?" you heard Remus ask. You had no idea how the house elves managed to prepare such a delicious pumpkin pie! You also didn't know the question was intended for you until you lifted your gaze and saw everyone staring at you.

"I guess, yes. Why not?" you quickly answered.

xxx

You were starting to regret your decision. You were sitting on a couch between two couples who were sucking their faces, holding a far too diluted drink in your hand, watching how everyone but you was having fun. Lily was off with James in a broom closet somewhere, Remus was talking to a Slytherin he was paired with in Potions and Peter was dancing his worries away on the dancefloor. You had to give him props, Peter was the best dancer you've ever met.

You did your best to ignore the burning stare you felt at the back of your head. You knew who it was, how could you not? Those piercing gray eyes have haunted your dreams, you've tried countless times to forget them. You wondered why he wasn't with a girl: by that time, he would have already been in his dorm, doing gods know what. If you were to think about it, quite some time passed since you last saw him with one.

He stepped in front of you. "Y/N, can we talk?" he asked. "In private?"

"Yeah, alright," You didn't know if that was the alcohol speaking or you were just too tired of beating around the bush. You stood up, sensing the wariness in his voice. "Are you alright?" He looked lost and… shy? Sirius Black was shy?

"Yes, yes-I will be." You walked in silence to the Astronomy Tower.

"Y/N - I - I will get straight to the point. I have never in my life met anyone like you. I like you - screw that - I love you. So there’s that. I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met. I love you without knowing how, why, or even from where." he jabbered, nervously running his hands through his hair."And I know you may hate me, but I just wanted you to know that while I still have the courage to tell you."

"Sirius - I don't know what to say." You stopped for a few moments, trying to find the best response. "We only ruin ourselves and love the wrong people. You broke my heart so many times." A tear slid down your cheek, and you pushed away Sirius' hand as he tried to wipe it. "The more girls I've seen you with, the more it hurt me. And I tried to deny my feelings, to hide them." You slowly raised your voice "How can I know that I'm not one of them? That I won't get my heart broken after two days?"

"Let me tell you something. This, right now, at this moment, is all that matters to me. I love you. And I have loved you for a while" he cupped your cheeks in his hands, and this time you let him. "I know I was a fool, and I fucked up. But I've never been more sure of anything in my life: I love you."

You took a big breath, trying to calm yourself. "I love you too. Truth is, I've never felt like this before." you revealed. "But love doesn't make things nice, it ruins everything. In the end, it will always break our hearts."

"We aren't here to make things perfect. We are not numbers. And we will never have what James and Lily have! It's just not us!" Sirius admitted."But I would do anything for you, Y/N. And I hate myself for ever hurting you more than you can imagine."

You hugged him and you felt his arms draw patterns on the small of your back. All you wanted to do was to live in that moment forever.

"Can I kiss you now?"

You smiled through your tears. "You are such a dork!"

You melted in a kiss more wonderful than the sun that began to rise.

Taglist: @futurewriter2000 @puppycat714 @booksbeforebois

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gotmilk5101520 · 4 years

Text

Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 4 Gnome Your Enemy

And gnome yourself.so you never forget rehearsal.

“For centuries, the troll and human worlds stood separate and at peace, divided by bridges that acted as doorways between our two realms”

“But the Gumm-Gumms wanted to devour all of mankind”

“They were led by Gunmar the Black”

“The rest of trollkind fought against him, culminating the great Battle of Killahead Bridge, the portal to Gunmar’s Darklands”

“After many moons, good triumphed over evil”

“And our great Trollhunter, Deya the Deliverer, locked Gunmar away, exiling him to the Darklands”

“And sealed the Killahead Bridge with the sacred amulet. After we tore it apart, stone by stone”

“We left the old world in search of peace. We stowed away on a ship called the Mayflower”

“Just a handful of us and gnomes we’d brought along for companionship and nourishment”

“Finally, we arrived in a strange and exotic realm” “New Jersey”

“We kept walking”

“Eventually, we came across a new Heartstone”

“And we realized we had found a new home... Under Arcadia” Random backstory. Also Wizards might want to have a few words about this.

There are two types of people.

"¡Lo siento, Sr. Draal! ¡No me mates!" I suck at Spanish, but thanks to ToA wiki this translates to “I’m sorry, Mr. Draal! Don’t kill me!”

“For these precious early steps will decide whether a young Trollhunter will become”

“a Deya the Deliverer”

“Or Unkar the Unfortunate” Translation: “Will Jim be remembered was great or bad”

Also they fixed Unkar’s arm from last episode.

“I recommend A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore by the venerable Bedehilde. Volume 1 of 47″ Can we get the manga versions? I can read them if they were mangas.

“Oh, no. Is it the Heartstone?”

“No! No!”

“Stalkling?”

“Is Bular in Trollmarket?”

“No! Gnome!”

“Rogue gnome!” Bular? No. Gunmar? no. Gnomes are the real problem.

This is still a kids show. Right?

“Why? He can’t be that bad”

“Oh, no! My belt!”

“At least he didn’t take my Nougat Nummy”

“We need to catch that gnome” Belt gone? Oh well. Nougat Nummy gone? Get him.

“Over there!”

“Oh! Over there!”

“No! Over here!”

“Right here”

Sonic the Gnome.

“Oh, no. Where’s the amulet?

“Oh, no!” And now to rename this series to Gnomehunters.

I’m Jim when moving things, and my sister is Aaarrrgghh.

“Come back, come back”

“Shouldn’t the amulet be coming back to me right about now?”

“Dolefully, that rule only applies if you’ve rejected it”

“When thieved, it’s another story” But, why? That makes no sense. Look at the Miraculous. They can be used anyone. If stolen, then they can’t go back to their holders, they have a new holder. But the Amulet of Daylight, which chooses it’s owner, can get stolen in the blink of an eye and it won’t go back to the owner? What the fuck?

“What else can i do? I can’t fit in that hole” That’s what she said.

“You broke my tooth. I’m going to break your life”

“When i’m through with you, you’re going to-” “Is that Diary of a Wimpy Kid?” “Wait what? No. This is you!” “No that’s Diary of a Wimpy Kid”

“And, by the way, i know Steve is a jerk, like a really big jerk. Okay, what does Aja see in him?” “He’s a himbo. She likes himbos” “Oh, that makes sense”

“But there are better ways to finish a fight than punching someone in the face. You should’ve fought him in a alley, alone, and if he dies you need to get rid of the body. But don’t worry i know a few places to get rid of a body so no one can ever find it” “Uh... What are we talking about again?” “Uh... See you at rehearsal!”

“So, what was that all about?” “I don’t know. I think Claire said something about a body?”

“Whoa. Did you hear what Claire said?. But who’s body was she talking about?” “What do Aja and i see in you?” “Said something?”

We interrupt Trollhunters to bring you Night at the Museum.

“Full disclosure, i’m a little worried how i let you talk me into this” Ain’t that a mood.

“So, how does me going into this thing help me get a gnome out of a hole”

“If a gnome won’t come out, the Trollhunter must go in” That’s what she said.

Honey, i shrunk the Trollhunter.

“I can’t be shrunk! I have exams to take!”

“I have sinks to reach!” Shit i have sinks to reach too. Oh well.

“Nothing in this world makes sense” Our world never made any sense.

This is not creepy at all. Okay yeah, it is. Remind me, how is this a kids show again?

Gnome pencil sharpeners.

New meme template.

“You touched my hat, prepare to die!”

It was at this moment he knew; he fucked up.

“And what about this shrinking stuff? When does it wear off?”

“Don’t worry. Sleep it off. By morning, you’ll be as good as new” They always say that, and it never happens.

“All that is left is for you to take care of it”

“Wait, what? Take care of it?”

“Rule number 2″

“Always finish the fight”

“And by “Finish””

“Deaden. End. Le Coup de grace”

Finish him!

“Neither of us are killers”

“I am”

“You are?”

“Detective Snuggles. Nana warned me not to leave my chocolate lying around”

“But it was just after Easter, and i had pulled in a big haul”

“I never thought that cat would find my stash”

“But he did. And by the time i found him, it was too late”

“Death by chocolate”

“There are worse ways to go”

“That wasn’t the worst of it”

“I never had the heart to tell Nana, so to cover up the murder”

“I used to eat his cat food just to make it look like he was still around”

“And i liked it” What a sad, yet funny, but also scary story.

“By morning rise, the dark deed will be done and my soul will be damned” Wait did he just say damned?

Well, Jim slept with a girl. Only downside it’s not Claire.

“Oh, no! School!”

“We have to call you in sick”

“Tell them you ate too much chocolate. That always works”

“No, Senor Uhl can sniff out a lie a mile away” So is he related to Tanjiro?

“¡Hola! Sorry i couldn’t be en escuela, Senor Uhl, but i just tested on Covid and waiting for the results”

“No, no... no need to fight at home”

“Ponce de Leon joined Columbus in the New... New-”

“What in the world?” That’s my reaction to world events.

Sonic the Gnome 2

“It’s happening!”

“What’s happening?”

“It’s happen” “High five!”

“Internet connections, am i right? Gotta go. Bye!”

“Is this the part where Jim becomes Half Troll?” “No, no it can’t be. Claire doesn’t know yet” “Steve, did you just say something smart?”

“We can keep him? Jim, i already have a name”

“Gnome Chompsky” “Not going for Sonic the Gnome?” “Nah, we’ll get sued”

“Two crises averted it’s not like you get to rehearse these things” I feel like we’re forgetting something.

“Oh, no! Rehearsal!” Oh yeah. Fuck.

“Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

“Shall i hear”

“Shall i hear more”

“Or shall i speak at this”

“Oh, Mr. Lake!”

“Your repeated tardiness has forced me to take precautions. Mr. Palchuk will now serve as your understudy”

“I told you i was going to break your life!” “Okay first off, your drawing looked like something out of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and second i thought you meant my Trollhunting life!” “Why would i want your Trollhunting life? I could die” “You do realize Romeo and Juliet dies at the end, right?” “Wait what?” “Yes, they do., Everyone knows this” “I don’t want to be here anymore” “Too late!”

“Hey! What are you doing in here?”

“You were followed?

“Of course not. I brought you a midnight snack”

And with that, Night at the Museum comes to an end.

Well, let’s not go to the museum at night.

Wait we’re going there tomorrow? Crap.

#trollhunters #milk watches trollhunters #tales of arcadia

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prettyallfriends · 3 years

Text

Pretty Rhythm: My☆Deco Rainbow Wedding Chapter 13+14

(I'm weirdly motivated to just churn out a tonne of chapters tonight. I may get 2 more out of the way... Anyway, in chapter 13 we get some Rinne lore and general sadness. In chapter 14 we basically get confirmation that Ayami is in love with Chae-kyung. I got whiplash between these two chapters)

Chapter 13: The Runway Needs a Prism Heart

Mia: Aaaand here we are!!

Penguin-sensei: You insufferable airhead, dragging people along without thinking!!

Mia: People?? What are you saying~? You’re a penguin!

Penguin-sensei: Oh yeah, I forgot for a second! Yes, I am indeed a member of birdkind. I am, and always have been a penguin~ Penpen!... Wait, what are you making me say!?!?

Mia: Woah, now, don’t get mad. Anyways, what’s Rinne doing around here? (It’s a snowy tree ice rink type area)

Penguin-sensei: Geez! Rinne is entering a fashion show here today.

Mia: A fashion show!? Wow, that’s the perfect job for her, huh? I wonder what coord and what persona she’ll be wearing. That’s it! Why don’t you enter the fashion show too, Player?

Penguin-sensei: It’s not that easy to enter!

Mia: Huh really... Then, I have a question for you, Player… Does Rinne really enjoy being all alone?

Choice: She’s probably lonely / I think she’s fine

Mia: You really think so? No matter how much power you have, you’re bound to get lonely if you’re by yourself all the time. And she changes her personality so much, she might forget her true self. Let’s find her and ask her ourselves.

…

Mia: Hm, we still haven’t found her, huh? --??

Rinne: Seven-hued metamorphosis… Change!!! Pop!!! Yaaaay!☆ Today I’m gonna be super poppy and energetic! And I’m gonna work super hard for my fashion show☆

Mia: She’s changed her personality again!? So now she’s pop, huh… Wait a minute, I can’t just space out! Let’s go, Player!! Kaboom!! Excuse us!!

Rinne: Gah! You surprised me~ Oh? What’s wrong, Player?? Ah, I’ve got it! You want to enter the fashion show, right?

Picock: You fiends! What art you doing here!?

Rinne: It looks like Player wants to enter the fashion show too. It's fine, right? Whoo, okay☆

Picock: Poppycock!! Rinne, thou art entering the fashion show alone! Thou art more than enough! You must adorn yourself in the sexy coord next!!

Rinne: Seven-hued metamorphosis… Change!!! Sexy!!! Ehehe♡ Wow, I’m so touched that you came just to visit little ol’ me, Player-chan♡

Mia: And now she’s acting all sexy!?

Picock: As Rinne possess the powers of every variety of coord, she alone is enough to showcase them all. Next… is this coord! Rinne,--

Mia: That’s enough!!

Rinne: Hm…?

Mia: We don’t want to talk to the personas that Rinne uses with her coords… We came here to talk to the real Rinne!!

Rinne: The… real me??

Mia: Rinne, your said that Player has a wonderful heart, right? They use their own original My☆Deco coords. And you both want the Rainbow Wedding. If that’s the case, then fight Player as your true self!

Rinne: Stop it!!! Ugh… the power of the coords is… (she goes back to her normal outfit)

Picock: Rinne’s seven-hued metamorphosis has… reverted!?

Rinne: I… can’t do it.

Mia: Why not!?

Picock: You insolent fool! Thou art going awfully far… In that case, Player, you are to serve as Rinne’s opponent in this fashion show! Fashion a coord that suits your stage, and show us the power of My☆Deco!

Mia: Hell yeah! Player, you need to use your My☆Deco power to open Rinne’s heart!

(prism show yanno the drill)

Mia: Woohoo!!! Your coord and stage were perfect for each other! You didn’t have to change your persona to be able to perform a great prism show!

Picock: How can this be…? How canst thou perform so well without a seven-hued metamorphosis!?

Mia: It’s because Player is in tune with their own heart. My☆Deco is all about decorating your own heart, after all! Changing your persona to match your coord all the time, meanwhile? That's really sad. Rinne needs to realise that.

Rinne: Your own heart… The real me… Aaaaaaah!!!

Mia: Rinne!? Are you okay??

Rinne: I don’t get it… I don’t get it…

Mia: What don’t you get?

Rinne: I… I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything!!

Mia: Huh…?

Picock: Rinne, do not push yourself too hard whilst trying to recover your memories. There is no need to hurry. Once thou can acquire the Rainbow Wedding…

Rinne: ...I’ll remember everything I’ve forgotten?

Picock: Of course.

Rinne: That’s a relief…

Picock: It would be better if you two left for today. Rinne needs to rest.

Mia: But… Won’t she just keep doing her seven-hued metamorphosis? I mean, at this rate she’ll lose more and more of her true self!

Rinne: It’s fine… Don’t bully them, Picock.

Mia: Rinne…?

Rinne: I’m empty. But if I play all these characters… I feel like someone will tell me it’s okay to exist… After all… I’m…

Picock: Rinne, thou must rest.

Rinna: Right…

Picock: Player. If thou wishes to worry Rinne, the least you can do is polish your My☆Deco power first. The child who was chosen by the Rainbow Charm to wield the power of My☆Deco… Perhaps, you might… No, now is not the time for this.

Mia: For what? Now I have to know!!

Picock: Well then, farewell for now.

Mia: They left… Hmm. It feels like we’ve made a step in the direction of Rinne’s secret… But at the same time, her secrets keep piling up… What did Rinne forget? Agh!!! I! Need! To! Know!!!

(sad music still playing. ATARASII HAIR STYLE DE ASOBERU YO!!!! ATARASII KYOKU DE ASOBERU YO!!!!! Ljdkhjkasfj meganee realy knows how to ruin a moment. Anyway im sure it will be a great relief to learn that ive finally gotten my dream hairstyle and hair colour unlocked)

Chapter 14: Writing a Memomemo About the Secret of the Coord

Mia: You seem pretty down, huh Player? I’m pretty concerned about Rinne too, she seemed really sad… When I look at someone making a sad face, I end up feeling sad too… Ah... There’s a cat outside the window. Cats sure are great~ Not like they have anything to worry about. That’s it! Let’s become cats and just purr all day! Now, you do it too, Player! Purr, meow~~~

Ayami: STAND UP, GIIIIIRLS!!!

Mia: AHH!! Stand-up? Or is it stand up?

Ayami: That’s right. Stand up, girls. Memomemomemomemo…

Mia: What the hell, Ayami! I was in the middle of lazing around like a cat!

Ayami: Ah! Cats… A black cat!!! Cats sure are great… And they never have anything to worry about…

Mia: I literally said the exact same thing!

Ayami: Ah… I also want to become a cat.

Mia: Why? Did something happen, Ayami?

Ayami: Um…

Mia: That reminds me, you wanted to participate in Stand Up Girls, right?

Ayami: That’s right. I’m going to form a team with Chae-kyung-san and enter next time.

Mia: That’s cool. You’ll be able to pull off a very celebrity show then!

Ayami: Yes… And I’m happy about that, I’m really looking forward to it… but we decided that I’m going to be in charge of designing our coords.

Mia: But you’re great at designing, right?

Ayami: I really love Chae-kyung, but when I think of the kinds of coords she usually wears… Well, they’re the cream of the crop! They’re out of my league! ...which is what I’ve been thinking as I write memo upon memo upon memo upon…

Mia: Wow… Your notebook's completely full! You won’t thinking of any new ideas like this.

Ayami: I know that. But whenever I think about it… Ugh. Player-san, do your have any good ideas?

Choice: Try to get some inspiration from something around here? / I’ve got nothing

Ayami: Something around here… That’s actually really good advice! Hm…? What are you looking at, Player-san? Oh, Mr. Cat. Look, he’s sleeping with his tummy out, aww. He’s so cute, all relaxed like that. ...Ah!

Mia: Did you think of something!?

Ayami: As expected of Player-san! You wanted me to get inspiration from the cat, didn’t you? I need to learn how to relax my heart just like this cat!

Mia: Is… is that right!?

Ayami: I’ll take a memomemo! I’ve thought of a design! Player-san, could you do a show in the coord I’ve designed? I’ve taken a memomemo of the cute, meowing Black Cat Coord! Hm, that’s right… Powder Snow Park is close by, let’s go there!

(prism show. My nyas?)

Ayami: Amazing! That was a very meowmeow show! Chae-kyung-san will definitely like the coord too…

Chae-kyung: Ayami!

Ayami: Chae-kyung-san! You were watching too?

Chae-kyung: That was a very celebrity show. Ayami and Player are both amazing! With this coord, we’re sure to get a celebrally good result in Stand Up Girls.

Ayami: Ehehe… I’m so happy to hear that. It’s all thanks to Player-san. Carefully thinking things through is important, but freely thinking things through is important too! I’ll make a memomemo of that!

Mia: Wow, Player, you’ve really grown, huh! You gave Ayami design advice, you’re so cool! Your My☆Deco power has to have powered up too, right?

Ayami: According to my memos, by powering up your My☆Deco power… you’ll be able to decorate your prism stones with frames!

Chae-kyung: Being able to create your own celebrity original coords is wonderful!

Ayami: You should try making a lot of new coords with your new ability to add frames. That’s it! If you’re okay with it, why not use this Black Cat Part for your My☆Deco?

Chae-kyung: You’ll definitely be able to make a celebrally cute coord!

Mia: Now that your My☆Deco has powered up, you’ll be able to enjoy prism shows a lot more! The Gold Spiral Cup is coming up soon, too. Work hard up until then!

Chae-kyung: We’re also going to work celebrally hard at the Gold Spiral Cup!

Ayami: Player-san, thank you so much!

(naur bc why did google drive keep autocorrecting chae-kyung to chase-kyung. bitch who tf is chase-kyung. maybe chase-kyung is her mechas car transformation idk)

#pretty rhythm #pretty rhythm 3ds #pretty rhythm dear my future #pretty rhythm aurora dream #pretty rhythm rainbow live #pretty series #mdrw

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 5 years

Text

Back Off

Bard x Reader

I would love a protective/slightly jealous bard, angsty romance style. Probably SFW, but suggestive behavior is fine if it fits the story. Thank you~

Growing up, things were not the easiest.

Though many have it much worse given the state of this little town on the water.

There is poverty everywhere, hungry children with raggedy clothes, and food shortages constantly, but no matter how the people plead and weep, the master of this town does nothing. He cares more for his gold and brandy than any person or animal, his only motivation being the chance to make more money and bleed the people dry of everything they have so he may support his over the top, extravagant lifestyle.

To say you were riddled by hardships would be an overstatement, but growing up with a young seamstress mother and no father left you hungry most nights and scrounging for loose coins on the boardwalks some days. She was only 19 when she had you, after all.

There are many a children like you, though, and you use this fact to keep you from becoming a martyr.

As you grew older and your mother more frail and sickly, you began to take over her seamstress duties and run her little business so she could rest more and try and regain some of her strength.

Only, she never did get stronger. Her health continued to decline, and at the age of 54 she passed in her sleep.

Those were very hard times for you, and for a while you began to wonder if it was even worth it to go on when you knew nothing was waiting for you in the future anyways.

Change can come in many different forms, and the change for you came in the shape of a tall bargeman awkwardly trying to find a dress for his oldest daughters birthday (she was turning 14, and is now 16).

You remember that day quite fondly (and very vividly). The way he hesitantly entered your home-ran store, and looked around until his eyes fell upon you.

You'd seen him around before, sometimes in the barge waters and other times in the market. You also knew his name, for the people of Laketown (especially the women) speak very highly of him for being 'a man of the people.'

One cheerful greeting and unsure explanation later, the two of you were looking at your fabrics and pre-made garments. He didn't seem to have a clue of what to get her, so you did your best to help him and asked simple questions about her measurements and all of that.

All he could do is show with his hands approximately how big she was, and at the time it made you laugh. Eventually you just told him to send her over later on and you'd collect your measurements for free.

When you said 'free' he seemed surprised and was very reluctant and stated that it wasn't a good idea, but you only smiled and said rather flirtatiously, "I can give discounts to handsome men if I so desire."

That certainly shut up his denial of your assistance.

After that day, he began to come to your home-shop more often. Sometimes to pay you to mend his clothes, sometimes to buy things for his daughters and son, and others just to chat idly and see how you're doing. Around that time you began to give him your extra scraps of fabric for free, and it served to make his youngest daughter, Tilda, ecstatic every time.

Bard gave your shop very high praise to his friends and people he sees on a daily, and suddenly you found that you've got much more business than you had before.

You thanked him with a dark blue long-coat, lined in some part on the inside in fleece. You didn't have much fleece, but you really wanted to make him this gift.

When you first tried to give it to him, he refused to take it saying that it was much too nice and you could fetch a pretty price for it if you sold it instead, but you only dropped it off at his home later and told Sigrid to give it to him for you.

He came back the very next day wearing it, a bit sheepish and there to thank you instead of give it back like you thought he would.

Suffice to say, your history with Bard is not the longest nor does it go back very far, but it's still the deepest and most important one you've got.

Anyways, you'd never taken Bard for the jealous type, and for the most part you were right about that assumption... for the most part.

You get all sorts of people in your shop at various times during the day. Usually they buy something or look around and promise to come by when they've gotten paid, but sometimes you'll get a 'suitor' that waltzes in, confident that you'll say yes to his sudden proposal.

When you tell Bard of these occurrences he usually just laughs and asks what you said, though he does seem a bit frustrated when you recount the more... forward men that wander into your shop.

And it seems that you'll have another story to tell him when he comes by later, because suddenly a man you haven't seen in your shop before comes sauntering in. From the armor he wears and emblem of the town, you realize that he's just another pet of The Master.

Regardless of your disdain for his type, you put on a pleasant smile and ask, "Hello sir. What can I do you for?"

He looks over at you with fake surprise on his face, acting like he's only just noticed you, and bows politely, "Miss Y/N, a pleasure."

"Do I know you?" You ask slowly, wondering how he even knows your name in the first place.

The man shakes his head no, "No, but I know of you. My name is Elton, my lady."

Oh gosh, another one of these.

"Well, alright. To what do I own the pleasure of your appearance here, Elton?" You say it with a fake coyness, really all you want is his money, and give him a small smile.

It seems that he think's he's won you over at the smugness that replaces his kind smile, "I came to inquire on if you'd like to accompany me to a party The Master is throwing in his halls tonight."

Haha, yeah, no.

You keep the kind smile on your face and deny just as sweetly, "No, I'm sorry but I'm going to be busy for the rest of the night."

His confident grin drops when you say no, "What?" It sounds like he's shocked that you're denying him.

"Um, I said I cannot... Was I not clear?" You remain calm and keep your facial expression pleasant.

"No...?" He asks slowly, his voice turning a bit angry.

You take a step back and glance around your front room briefly, suddenly not feeling very proud of yourself.

He takes a step forward when you step back, and now you're wishing you had just said yes and sent him on his way.

"Why would you say no? I can give you everything you could ever want, why would you say no?" He sounds mad, and as much as you would like to leave this situation, you're in your home so you can't just walk out.

"I-I said I can't, n-not that I don't want to..." You don't want to, in fact, but you're beginning to worry for your safety. He has power, and no one would blink and eye if he were to do something unsavory.

"And why can't you? It sounds like you're making excuses." Hell hath no fury like a man with his ego wounded.

You're at a loss for words, so you just stand there like a deer caught in headlights and don't say anything at all.

He reaches up and grabs your shoulders suddenly, causing you to flinch, and he demands again, "Tell me!"

The sound of the door opening gathers both of your attentions, and you're relieved to see Bard standing there.

His expression is one of surprise, and everything is still as he examines the scene before him. When he takes in your frightened state, the imposing figure of Elton looming over you, and his hands on you, his countenance shifts to one of anger.

"B-Bard!" You cry, a bit more alarmed sounding than you meant to be.

He steps in and slams the door behind him, demanding harshly, "What are you doing? Take your hands off of her." He doesn't yell, but he doesn't need to, to sound scary.

Elton digs his fingers into your shoulders a bit harder, making you wince, and asks, "Or what?"

Yeah, he probably shouldn't test him.

"I won't tell you twice."

His voice is dark and if it were aimed at you, you probably would've started crying.

Elton slowly lets his arms fall back to his sides and turns toward Bard, then glances back at you and 'tsks', "Such a waste." He then brushes past Bard and slams the door on his way out.

As soon as he's gone you slump back against the wall and press your hands against your face, just taking a moment to breathe and calm your rapidly beating heart.

"Are you aright?" You hear Bard ask from just in front of you, his voice soft and concerned.

When he got there, you aren't sure, but you don't reply to him right away with fear that your voice may break.

He reaches up and takes your hands in his gently, pulling them down to rest in his between the two of you. "Y/N?"

You look up at him slowly and give him a shaky smile, "S-Sorry, I'm just a bit shaken. I though he was gonna hurt me." Your smile drops and you look back down at your feet, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You know I won't let that happen." He releases your hands and instead pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he tries to help you relax a bit, "Bastard was lucky you were right there, I would've-"

You wrap your arms around his middle and he pauses, letting his hand rub along the expanse of your back, "Sorry..." He whispers, realizing you probably don't want to hear about the illegal acts he would've most definitely committed against him.

Bard sighs and slowly unwraps his arms from around you, "He might come back." He states suddenly, glancing back towards the door, "At a time when he knows I'm not here like everyone else does." He says 'everyone else' bitterly, no doubt referring to the other suitors who like to visit during the day when they know he's busy working. "Maybe I should have Sigrid and Tilda join you throughout the day... they could keep you company and call for help if he comes back."

Gosh you love his girls, so having them around more often would be pretty nice. "Yeah, I would like that..." Having him here with you has successfully made you a lot less frazzle.

"Everyone else?" You question after a moment, though you already know who he's referring to.

"Oh don't play coy, those buzzards who swoop in the moment I leave to vie for your attention." He reaches up and rubs your cheek with his knuckles, "They just want what isn't theirs," he states, adding at the end, "Not that you belong to me, of course."

You giggle quietly at his back-tracking, standing up on your toes so you don't have to look up at him quite so much, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're being jealous." You say teasingly, moving your arms to wrap around the back of his neck.

His hands fall to your waist and he pulls you up against him, pressing his forehead against yours, "And if I am?"

Another short laugh leaves you at his 'challenge', and respond to it by pressing a kiss against his cheek, "I don't know, I would've thought you'd know already that I'm all yours, metaphorically speaking."

"You are... just as I am all yours in return."

#bard the bowman #bard #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #bard x reader #bard the bowman x reader #reader insert #reader #angst #romance #fluff

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 20: When The Bough Breaks...

Chapter Summary: Fliss finds herself in an impossible position…and her decision tips Frank’s world upside down.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: I know I only updated a few days ago with Ch 19 but this one has been written for a wile and I finished yesterday so decided not to wait.

Don’t hate me…

Chapter Song: Shattered by Trading Yesterday

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

And this day’s ending is the proof of time, killing all the faith I know.

“Was that another one?” Frank asked as Fliss tossed her phone onto the coffee table with an angry snort.

She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Frank sighed and looked at her “Honey…” “I know, I know…” she said, looking at him. “Look, I’ve made notes of every time I’ve had one so… its recorded. But again, it’s not like we can prove anything…they happen like twice a day and then nothing…hardly what they’ll call harassment.” Frank shifted slightly “This has been going on for 2 weeks now sweetheart.” “I’m well aware of that.” she snapped, before she shook her head “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry…not at you.” “Come here…” he said, opening his arms and she snuggled into him, leaning against his chest as his hand gently ran up and down her arm. “Maybe you should think about changing your number…and not putting the new one on the website.” “Yeah.” she conceded, “It’s not gonna help for work though…” “You can work round it.” he said, “Keep the business line and if you’re not there people will have to leave a message. Then, once you know your clients…you can give them your cell number.”

“Fucking ass hole is still making my life awkward.”

“Only if you let him.” Frank said gently “It’s a minor inconvenience to change your number but, if in the grand scheme of things all he has in his back pocket is sending you some dumbass birthday card and trying to piss you off with silent phone calls then…he’s just a pathetic fucking loser that’s trying to bully you into being scared.” “I’m not scared, just pissed off.” she shook her head “I know he’s a chicken shit, he wouldn’t dare come near me not when you’re on the scene…or my dad for that matter.” “Good, because if he did I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.” Frank said softly.

“Maybe we should just pay someone to kill him.” Fliss said after a moment’s pause and Frank let out a snort “Bullet straight between the eyes.”

“Nah, too quick.” Frank sniffed, reaching for his beer “I’d dangle him over a tank of hungry sharks…lower him in inch by inch…”

“Or we could feed him to pigs, like in Hannibal.” Fliss mused.

“That’s also an option…no trace” he said, swallowing a mouthful of beer.

“You know they should teach this shit at schools” Fliss said, reaching for her own drink “How to get rid of bodies. I feel it is something everyone should be educated in.” “Maybe you should mention it to Bonnie.” he said as she took a sip of wine “Tell her you feel it is an educational rite of passage or some other inspiring shit like that…”

Fliss laughed, placing her wine glass down and shifting so that she was led on her front, half on-half off Frank, looking up at him as her chin rest on his chest.

“On a scale of 1 to 10 how much of a meltdown are we facing with Mary on tomorrow morning?”

“From her current mood I’d suspect a good 4 and a half, maybe a 5.” he mused, before he looked at Fliss “I don’t much care, she’s going whether she wants to or not.” “When do the University Classes start again?”

“Not till second week in October.” Frank replied “Which reminds me, I need to submit that funding form tomorrow…” “It’s on the table.” Fliss said, as she correctly guessed from the look on his face he was pondering where he had put it.”

“What would I do without you?” he grinned down at her.

“I have absolutely no idea.” she shrugged and he smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Did you speak to Evelyn before?” Fliss asked him and he nodded.

“She’s coming down this weekend.” Frank said, “She’s still on about Mary going to Boston for a weekend.” “You still not comfortable about her going?” Fliss asked.

Frank wrinkled his nose “I don’t know if I trust her fully yet.” “You’ll never know you can unless you give her a chance.” Fliss reasoned

“You think I should let her go?” Frank said, slightly surprised.

“That’s not my decision to make, Frank” Fliss shook her head.

“No, but I value your opinion.” Frank looked at her. “Go on, tell me what you think.” Fliss hesitated for a moment before she sat up and turned her body so she was facing him, her legs tucked underneath her on the sofa. “If it was me in your position, I’d give Evelyn a chance. She’s played ball so far, done everything you’ve asked her to. You’ve got legal guardianship of Mary so she can’t pull any stupid stunts, and if Mary comes back and tells you something she did that you don’t like, well, you cut the visits.” Frank looked at Fliss before he took another drink from his beer bottle. He was torn in two. In one respect he wanted Mary to be happy and it certainly seemed that she enjoyed seeing Evelyn, but on flip side he was still more than comfortable with keeping his Mother at arm’s length.

“I’ll think about it.” he shrugged, non-committedly.

“Well, you should also ask Mary.” Fliss said “She might not even want to go.” “She will.” Frank said, “Evelyn has a piano.” Fliss laughed “Yeah, but she’s also bossy, remember?”

“Yeah, I had heard that.” Frank said, and Fliss chuckled again.

“Well, can you not think about it right now?” she said, taking the beer bottle out of his hand.

“Hey…” he pouted as she put it down on the table, his pout soon turned into a smirk as Fliss moved so she was straddling him on the sofa, his t-shirt that she’d been lounging around in rode up her thighs slightly and his hands rubbed up the side of her bare skin. “Something on your mind baby girl?”

“What makes you think that?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest, over the soft material of his top.

“Just a hunch…” he mumbled, as he reached up and gently gripped the back of her neck, pulling her head down to meet his.

****** “Hey Frank…”

Frank looked up and smiled at Alan as he walked into the work shop.

“Hey Alan, not seen you in a while, how you doing?” “Good…I’m good. I was just wondering if I could have a word in my office.”

“Sure.” Frank frowned “Is err, everything ok?” “Oh, yeah, it’s nothing to worry about…quite the opposite in fact…” “Alright, well me just finish piecing this oil filter together and I’ll be with you.”

“Sure.” Alan said, “No rush.”

Frank quickly tightened the filter back up, gave it the once over before he set down his tools and hopped off the boat, wiping his hands on a rag before he walked through the door at the back of the workshop and down the small corridor that led to the main office at the rear of the shop. He knocked sharply on the door and then swung it open as Alan looked at him, gesturing for him to take a seat whilst he finished up his call. Eventually, he bid the person on the other end good bye and placed the receiver down.

“Relax, Frank…” Alan chuckled as Frank adjusted his jeans for what felt like the 30th time since sitting down.

“Sorry.” Frank nodded, scratching at his temple. “So errr, do you need me to do something or...” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Alan said “As you know Paul is retiring at the end of the year, which means the Head Mechanic role is up for grabs…and I was wondering if you’d be interesting in taking the position.” “Me?” Frank’s eyes widened slightly

Alan nodded “I know in the grand scheme of things you haven’t been here long but you’ve impressed me, just like Bill said you would. You knuckle down, you do the overtime if needed, you don’t complain…I like you Frank, and the team does to.” “I err…” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “I’m flattered…but I’ve never managed a team before or…”

“You were an Assistant Professor at one stage right?” Alan eyed him and Frank sighed, nodding “You must have had a research team…” “Yeah, but…” “It’s no different.” Alan shook his head, “And I’m here to help and give you some guidance. I’m not quite ready to retire fully yet. Not like Bill, only so much golf I can play before I go fucking nuts.” Frank snorted “Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s not my thing…” Alan looked at him “The duties won’t be that much different Frank. You’ll just be in charge of booking the jobs in, allocating them to the guys, keeping on top of deadlines and general management of the team…means a little less time spent actually getting your hands dirty but…well, you can manage that yourself. You wanna take a job you take it.”

“Can I take a bit of time to think it over?” he asked.

“Sure. Take a few days, let me know. I’d like to have whoever is taking over in a position to start the handover by the beginning of October if possible so…” “Thanks.” Frank nodded “I’ll give it some thought.” “Oh, and it also comes with a Ten thou a year raise…” Alan casually dropped in as Frank stood up “Plus a bonus each year of up to 20 percent, depending on how well you’ve done on your targets” “Just a minor detail you forgot to tell me.” Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you’d consider it for the right reasons not merely the financial incentive.” Alan shrugged “Another reason I’m convinced you’re perfect for the job.” Frank nodded and with that he left the office. Given that it was almost lunch time he took his break 15 or so minutes earlier and headed out into the September sun, pulling out his phone.

“Hey Sailor.” Fliss greeted him.

“Hey Cowgirl.” he smiled, leaning against the hood of his truck sipping a bottle of water “You got a sec.” “For you, always. What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing bad anyway…I just got offered a promotion.”

“Frankie that’s amazing!” She gushed “You sound surprised though.” “I am, a little.” he said, before he launched into an explanation of what Alan had told him and what the job would entail, plus the financial incentives.

“Wow!” she said as he finished talking “Baby, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you!”

Frank felt himself blushing at her praise, and despite the fact he couldn’t even see her he rubbed at his neck slightly. “So, you think I should take it?” “Of course I do.” she said eagerly “But at the same time, if you don’t want to then…you don’t have to. This is a great position to be in honey, Alan’s clearly seen your potential.”

“Just not sure If I’m cut out to be management.” he said, biting his lip.

“I had the same thoughts about my business you know.” she spoke gently “I wasn’t sure if setting up on my own after everything that happened was gonna work but then Dad told me that I’d never know unless I took the plunge. Have a little faith in yourself. The only person who doubts your capability is you.”

Frank smiles at her words and looked up and out over the Marina “You always know exactly what to say.” “Not really, I make most of it up as a go along.” she said and Frank laughed. “But, just think, with the extra money you can get a new car…” “There’s nothing wrong with my truck.” “Frank, it’s died on you 4 times in the last 2 weeks. Dad reckons his ride on lawnmower has more power under the hood than that thing”

“Ok, I’ll admit…she’s getting a little clunky…but she is into her twenties now….” Fliss snorted “You could get yourself a nice Audi…”

“Fuck off.” Frank said and she laughed

“I like Simon’s car…” “You like it so much you get one.”

“Would never fit Thor in the back.” she said and Frank had to concede she had a point “But now you’re freelancing…you don’t actually need a truck do you?” “No, but…it’s handy…” “Handy, baby it only has 3 seats…” “And a flatbed…” Frank pouted slihglty. “So get one with 5 seats.” she shrugged. “You can buy trucks with a full cab…”

“This is not a good enough reason to get me to take the promotion…”

“You want a better reason?” She said. “Ok, well here’s some food for thought…when the lease is up on our place maybe we could look into buying. You know I don’t wanna rent forever, I want us to have something for the future that’s ours, and the extra money you get a year would make a difference in what we can borrow towards it.” And just like that, as always, she’d managed to sideswipe him. He’d be lying if he hadn’t considered getting back on the property market, he had savings after all…but he’d given it no more thought than a fleeting idea every now and then when he drove past places with real estate signs in the front yards

“This mean you’re coming round to the idea of marrying me and having baby Franks and Flisses?” he teased She snorted “You’re such a dick…although that’s the only time you’ve ever mentioned that when you’re sober.” “So you’re saying that if I ask you when I’m not drunk you’d say yes?” he teased. “Goodbye Frank…” She teased in an airy voice, before she cut the call.

Chuckling to himself he slid the phone back into his pocket and headed back inside to grab his lunch from the fridge in the kitchen. As he did so he passed Alan who was heading out with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Oh, erm…Alan…” Frank looked at him. “So, turns out I don’t need as much time to think about it as I thought I did. I’ll take the job.” Alan smiled at him and pat him on the shoulder “Good man. I’ll get the wheels in motion and then we can work out how we start to transfer Paul’s responsibilities over.”

Frank nodded at him as he walked off.

“Oh…” Alan said, “We’ll also need to pick your car.”

“My car…” Frank frowned.

“Yeah, did I not mention? Paul’s BM…that’s a company car. I’m gonna let him keep it as a retirement present so we’ll need to order you another one. Not least because I don’t want my Head Mechanic driving around in that heap of shit you have. Looks like we don’t pay you enough…” Frank stood there, eyebrows raised as Alan simply smirked at him and left. Shaking his head, he gave a little groan, already imagining Fliss’ face when he told her.

*****

Fliss had reacted exactly how he had thought she would, laughing hysterically and then teasing him about how he had no alternative now than to get rid of the heap of shit he was ridiculously attached to. She’d then spent the evening looking at cars on her phone, showing him ridiculously pimped out vehicles in various vile colours, the final straw being a hot-rod red Mustang with gold rims and flames painted down the side. At that point he’d snatched the phone out of her hand, grabbed her hips and pulled her down under him on the couch and given her something else to think about for half an hour or so.

September ticked by, in the usual speed by which time seemed to be flying for Frank and he found himself thrown into his job, soaking up Paul’s experience of managing the team as much as he could. He was also extremely grateful for both Fliss and Bill’s input, both of them having dealt with managing staff and rotas so he was able to ask them both questions as well. Naturally, when V heard about it she insisted on cooking him a special dinner, and even Evelyn presented him with a very nice bottle of Scotch when she came to visit as a Congratulations.

Another bit of good news for them was that once Fliss changed her phone number the calls stopped as well. Frank was glad about that, because it meant that once again they’d thwarted the ass holes attempts to intimidate her. She’d made a blog, however, of every call she had gotten which now sat in Greg’s files along with the Card. Just in case.

Nope, on the whole life seemed to be going well for the pair of them.

“Someone’s looking smug…” Greg teased Frank as he leaned back in the chair around Greg’s large outdoor table. It was a Saturday at the start of October and they’d finally got round to having that cook out and gathering that the Circle of Truth had been attempting to organise round everyone’s schedule for the last 3 months.

“Well, you know…life’s pretty good.” Frank smiled, sipping his beer, his eyes straying to Fliss who was stood around the bar area to the right of the garden with Bonnie, Zara and Lisa. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a tie-died off the shoulder sweater but as usual, she looked stunning.

“You got a ring yet?” Jake asked, dropping down into a seat next to him.

“Oh don’t you start as well.” Frank groaned as Simon and Greg both laughed. “We’re happy as we are…besides, we’ve not even been together a year yet…” “Not far off.” Jake shrugged “Man, when you know you know…” “He’s just scared she’ll say no.” Simon teased. Frank stilled for a moment and then turned to glare at the man. “Shit, you are?” Simon frowned “No, not especially but…” Frank shook his head, trying to find the words to explain “I’m absolutely, totally convinced I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I know she feels the same but…well she’s been married before and I don’t want to ask until I know she’s ready to do it again.”

Greg looked at him, nodding “I get that.”

“That’s gotta be the most grown up think you’ve ever said…” Jake looked at Frank who flipped him off but deep down he had to admit, it wasn’t wrong. He knew that both he and Fliss had come a long way from the people they had been just over 14 months ago when they had first met. Fliss had come alive, flourished even in herself, and he…well, he’d learnt that there was more to life than a meaningless cycle of one night stands and that flying by the seat of his pants wasn’t always the most productive thing to do. Both of them had been broken in their own way, had their own guards and walls around themselves which the other had managed to smash straight through. He stole another glance at Fliss and smiled, he knew there was no other woman for him, but in the same breath…what was the rush? They had a life time. And a ring and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change any of that.

“Man you grew up…” Simon said, and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ll have you know I’ve brought up a kid since the age of 6 months…all this shit about me being a man child…It’s crap…”

“Whatever man…we all know you’re not a grown up until you have scatter cushions on your sofa…” Simon teased, referencing the previous week when he and Bonnie had come over for drinks and Fliss and Frank had had a jokey argument about the cushions on the sofa. Frank threw his head back in a huge bout of laugher, shaking his head.

“Fuck you!” he said, looking at him as Simon grinned.

“Anyway, man…speaking of weddings…” Greg turned to Jake “You’ve been engaged for what? like 3 years now…when you gonna set a date?”

“He has a point…” Simon looked at him.

“Well, you can all shut the fuck up because for your information we have.”

“Shut the front door!” Greg grinned

Jake nodded and took a large mouthful of his beer.

“So you gonna tell any of us or…” Jake glanced over at Lisa before he yelled her name and she looked over at him, the other women also looking up.

“Can we tell them now babe?” he called. Lisa grinned and nodded, and then made her way over followed by Zara. Fliss looked at Bonnie who shrugged, and the two of them picked up their drinks and followed.

Fliss perched on Frank’s knee and he slid one hand round her waist the other dropped to her thigh.

“So, we have set a date for the wedding.” Lisa smiled to a huge shriek from Zara. Frank spotted Fliss looking at Bonnie, the two of them sharing a significant smirk and he squeezed her thigh.

“Stop being a bitch.” he said in a low voice.

“Rude…” she mumbled, grinning into her gin.

“6th April next year…” Jake grinned. “At Hardemans Secret Garden in Dover, Tampa.” “Well unless you invented a time machine, it ain’t gonna be this year is it?” Simon looked at him, before he gave a yell as Bonnie slapped him round the back of the head.

“Obviously you’re all invited.” Jake said, “Except for Simon.” “Hang on, if he isn’t coming does that mean I can’t?” Bonnie pouted.

“You can be my plus one.” Fliss nodded.

“Oi…” Frank said, nipping her thigh gently. She grinned at him, ruffling his hair slightly. He jerked his head out of her reach and looked at her over his aviators. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

“Guys this is great news…” Greg said, nodding “Best dig the suit out.” “You wear a suit to work every day.” Zara looked at him.

“And you won’t need to.” Jake shook his head. “In fact none of you will…my brother is best man, obviously, but I’d like you guys there as my Groomsmen…that is, if you’re up for it.” Frank smiled at Greg, then Simon before they all shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m in…” Greg smiled,

“Me too pal, I’m honoured.” Frank smiled, tipping his beer bottle in Jake’s direction.

“Does this mean we get to plan the Batchelor party?” Simon asked. Jake nodded with a grin and Simon leaned back “Oh this is gonna be beautiful….”

***** “You’re fucking mental.” Frank looked at Fliss as she shrugged, circling Cap back round to the jump which Joanne had just hiked up another foot. He shook his head and turned away “I can’t watch.” “Don’t’ be a chicken Frank.” Mary grinned up at him, “It’s cool…I wanna do that some day.” “Over my dead body.” Frank looked down at her.

“Yeah you said that about me going to Boston…” “No, that’s not what I said.” Frank sighed, looking at her “I said over my dead body were you going to live with Evelyn….and did you?” “No…” Mary conceded “But you’re letting me go back for a weekend.”

“Yes, because you’re going for 2 nights and coming home” he said, and despite himself he turned his head to see Fliss sail Cap over the huge jump.

“See….” Fliss said, pulling the horse up to a stop “Easy…” “Whatever you say sweetheart.” he shook his head.

“Can I jump Monty soon?” Mary asked, and Fliss smiled.

“Yeah we can do a little cross pole…” “I give in…” Frank groaned, throwing his hands out to the side “The pair of you are nuts…”

“Says the guy who almost cried when he had to order a new car.” Fliss looked at him and Frank rolled his eyes “I mean who does that?” “Yeah Frank…” Mary said, swinging off the fence to the paddock, leaning back to look at him. “You get to swap a rust bucket for a shiny new Mitsubishi truck and you were like heartbroken.” “Hey, me and that truck have seen a lot of action-“

“I don’t wanna know…” Fliss started.

“Of which you’ve been part of…” he smirked her and she flushed a little, grinning. “I’m kinda attached to it.” “It’s a lump of metal.” Fliss looked at him.

“How dare you.” Frank scoffed, feigning offence.

“Well now you can have new adventures in the new truck.” Mary shrugged “Simples.” “When you do get it I vote the first thing we do is load it up and head off for a picnic somewhere.” Fliss said, hopping off Cap.

“I can go with that.” Frank nodded as she turned and walked towards the gate, letting her out.

“Can I take him?” Mary asked, hopping down off the fence.

“Sure…” Fliss said, handing her the reins. Mary led the horse away to the barn as Fliss removed her hat and pulled out her bobble, shaking her long hair free before she tied it back up again.

“I really do like it that colour.” Frank mused after a second, watching her. She blushed a little, and he knew why. A week ago she’d come back from the salon, her usually bright auburn hair was a lot more demure, having had caramel and dark brown put through it. When Frank had complimented her on the change she’d gotten a little shy and said that she used to have it like that when she was younger, but upon splitting with John had decided she wanted a completely different look. Now she felt like she wanted to go back to who she was, not needing to put that distance between her and her past anymore. Her admission had once again, knocked him for 6, how simple little things like that were so huge for her. He was also beyond happy she felt like that too.

She pulled off her riding gloves, shoved them into her back pocket and they walked into the barn as Mary opened Cap’s stable and led him inside. As always, the large horse bowed his head gently to allow Mary to undo his bridle and Fliss smiled. Cap was secretly her favourite after Heidi. He was such a loving animal, despite his size always being so gentle and careful around people, especially Mary. Most animals were like that around her, she just had this aura that they seemed to like. But then again, everyone said that animals were a good judge of character.

“Can we go to the shack for dinner?” Mary spoke up, looking at Frank “It is Saturday…”

“Oh, I dunno…” Frank sighed, “Not sure my heap of shit truck will get us there.” “No but Fliss’ jeep will.” Mary shrugged and Frank shook his head with a snort.

“You literally have an answer for everything.”

“Wonder where she gets that from…” Fliss looked at him and he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So can we go or not?”

“Yes, ok we can go to the shack.” Frank said “But the deal is you tidy your room when you get home. It’s a disgrace.” Mary pondered this for a moment as Fliss undid the girth on Cap’s saddle, pulling it off.

“Deal.” she nodded “Only Fliss said she was gonna help me sort my clothes out…some of them don’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah we do that tomorrow morning.” Fliss smiled, “Then we can look at ordering you some warm stuff for New York.” “oooh yeah, are we still getting matching sweaters when we get there?” “No.” Frank said, at the same time Fliss nodded.

“Yes.” “No, we’re not.” Frank looked at her.

“Errr 2 vs 1 Sailor, you’re outvoted.” she shrugged, pushing past him with the saddle on her arms. “But if you’re a good boy we’ll let you pick them right Mary?” “I dunno.” Mary frowned “Have you seen his shirts?” Fliss let out a roar of laughter and turned to face her, before she looked at Frank, laughing even harder at the pure indignation on his face.

“I hate you both.” he said sullenly, folding his arms.

The Shack was busy by the time they arrived but given that it wasn’t too cold they managed to find a small table outside and ordered their food, Mary getting through an astonishing amount considering but the Frank had noticed she was going through a bit of a growth spurt which he mentioned to Fliss when they were snuggled up on the sofa later.

“Not sure getting her any stuff for New York yet is wise.” he mused “If she carries on like she is it won’t fit her.”

“Well we can wait…Fliss said shrugging, her hand rubbing at Frank’s stomach under his shirt. “You have no idea how excited I am…” “Really?” Frank snorted “You never mentioned it.” “Oh piss off” she laughed, before she sighed happily “It’s the one thing I miss about home and Boston…you know this time of year the leaves would be changing colour and falling,…”

“I know what you mean.” he said, his hands carding through her hair “You don’t really Seasons here.”

“Well you do…” Fliss said, “Hurricane and Summer.” Frank let out a laugh as she looked up at him. “You know you’re my hurricane.”

“What?” he looked at her

“Came into my life, blew it all upside down…” “Jesus you talk some shit!” he laughed, shaking his head as she grinned.

“You know there was actually a hurricane Frank back in 2010.” she said “So I’m not talking complete shit…” “Whatever Sweetheart…” he snorted, leaning back as her nails scratched against his skin. He gave a twitch and grabbed her wrist, and looked down at her as she flashed him a coy look. “Stop it.”

“What, this?” she moved and used her other hand, and Frank let out a hiss as he shifted and grabbed that one too.

“You know what that does to me…” he looked at her, his voice low.

“Yup.” she nodded, grinning.

With a jerk of his arms he pulled her forward so she fell onto him fully, drawing a giggle from her as her nose bumped against his.

“I fuckin’ love you.” he smiled at her, and she grinned, giving him a soft kiss.

“Yeah, you’ve told me once or twice…” she smirked, her lips locking onto his.

******

“Fliss?”

“Office…” she called back, and a second or so later Joanne popped her head into the room.

“Everything’s done.” she said, “I was gonna lock up…you’re not normally here this late.”

“Yeah I know but I have some paper work to sort. Need to file a couple of things and, well, thought it would be easier to do it here than take everything home. Frank’s taken Mary bowling so…” “And you’d rather be here doing paper work?” Joanne teased.

“Sadly, it needs doing…besides, last time we went I kicked his ass, again, he sulked for hours.” Fliss snorted “Maybe he stands more of a chance against Mary.”

“Won’t he let her win?” Joanne asked “I mean, she is only 8…”

“Have you met Frank?” Fliss looked at Jo. “He says that she needs reminding every now and then that she’s not a genius at everything…” Joanne let out a laugh “Fair enough. Ok, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, by Jo…”

Fliss set about getting to work, filing the various bills and disclaimers she’d had signed and started then sifting through the list of clients and payments, checking who owed what and typing out the bills for the month. Once they were printed and placed in envelopes, ready to be tacked to the stable doors in the morning she glanced at the clock and realised it was almost 8 pm. Frank and Mary should be home now.

She was just about to pack up when she realised she hadn’t gone through the post for the day. For a second she debated leaving it for the morning, but decided she would get it over with. There wasn’t much- mostly a couple of letters from various equestrian societies around the area about a few events going on, but the last one she reached was a manila envelope with the address typed out on the front.

She turned it over, opened it and then pulled out the contents and immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked at the paper in front of her. It was a copy of the photo of her and Mary, taken from the first Blog that Mary had written over the summer. Underneath it was typed a simple message- I always knew you’d suit motherhood.

Fliss swallowed, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it was from but for the first time since his ridiculous campaign now she was actually frightened as to the meaning behind this. Up until now it he’d been nothing more than annoying but this was designed to be more than an aggravation.

It was a threat. A direct threat telling her he knew about Mary.

Whilst Fliss wasn’t Mary’s mother, and would never claim to be she loved that girl like she was her own and the fact that John was even brining her into this made her feel physically sick, so much so that she felt the bile rising in her throat and with a sharp heave she lurched to the side, grabbing the waste paper basket and hocking up the bitter substance. Coughing she wiped the back of her mouth with a shaking hand, reaching for the bottle of water on her desk.

She folded the photo up and stuck it back in the envelope, shoving it in the drawer before she stood up and locked her office, heading to her jeep. Her mind was reeling, now it wasn’t just her he was focussing on, this changed everything. Did she tell Frank? She knew she should, she couldn’t leave Mary in danger. Not that she believed any harm would come to her, not really, especially not under Frank’s care but that was another worry she had. That if she told Frank this, it was really going to push him over that edge into blind rage, and he’d been on the first plane out to Boston, hunting the fucker down…and then what?

He ended up in jail himself because Fliss knew Frank well enough to understand that if that blind rage took hold, he wouldn’t stop.

She had no answer to this, nothing. She sat in her jeep, staring out of the window, trying to force the thoughts and mumbles and voices in her heat to quiet, so she could think clearly, get some form of grasp on what it was she needed to do. And then one voice was screamed at her, clearly, giving her a solution…the only one she could viably see working.

With a loud sob, Fliss covered her face in her hands, unable to see an alternative to the decision she had just reached. A decision that was going to break her heart more than anything had ever done before.

******

“Hey, you’re late…” Frank looked up, immediately frowning as he saw Fliss’ face. “Honey…what…” “Where’s Mary?” she asked instantly.

“She nipped to Roberta’s” Frank said “I know it’s late but we saw her as we were headed out of the car and she wanted to collect something for Show and Tell tomorrow…why?”

“We need to talk.” Fliss said.

Frank stood up off the sofa and walked towards her, he reached for her and she took a step back.

“Ok, Fliss, you’re scaring me now…what…”

“I think…” Fliss looked down at her hands “I think that we need to stop seeing each other.” Frank blinked, not sure he had heard her right, but when he looked at her he saw a tear trickling down her face and she was avoiding his gaze. The world around him began to fade and a dull buzzing filled his head and rang around his ears as a horrible cold feeling washed over him.

“Lissy…” he swallowed, his words sticking in his throat “What’s brought this on? Did I do something? Are you not happy? I don’t understand…” “I just…it isn’t working for me…” she said, taking a deep breath and looking up at him. “You’re lying.” he said instantly, he could see it written all over her face “Fliss, what’s going on?” “Nothing, I’m sorry. I just…I need to leave, I need space.” she said “I’m so sorry Frank…” Frank took a deep breath, and watched as she turned to leave. After a second he hurried after her into the hallway, shaking his head.

“Lissy, please…talk to me…” he all but begged as she walked to the door. She made to open it but Frank was behind her and placed his hand firmly on the top of the PVC, causing it to shut. She spun round and looked up at him, the tears now pouring down her face.

“Please, Frank…don’t make this any harder than it is…” her voice was broken, and she shook her head. “I don’t understand what THIS is?” he looked at her, running a hand through his hair as he felt the stinging of tears in his own eyes “Last month we were talking about buying a house together and now you just wanna break it off, for no reason? Baby, just…whatever is going on, we can work through it, just talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, “Just…let me out…please…”

He looked at her again, her eyes bouncing across his and he knew instantly he couldn’t stop her, and would never do that to her either, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to lock the door and force her to tell him what the fuck was going on. So with a sniff he forced himself to step back and her hand went to the door knob, her shoulders shaking.

“Liss, please…” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t do this…”

She took a deep breath and opened the door, the warm air from outside hit him in the face before the click of the latch hit his ears as the door shut behind her, leaving him stood alone in the hallway, stunned and utterly, utterly broken.

#riding high #frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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