#but we still don't know and the anticipation is killing her

[real-life-cloud]

:((

[imaginaryf1shots]

Soulmate | Max Verstappen Ver.

WC: 4.1K

Max x journalist!reader

Summery: you live in a world where soulmates exist, and until you find yourself, you only see in black and white.

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Lewis Ver. , Oscar Ver. , Charles Ver.

In a world where everyone is born seeing black and white, the promise of seeing colour is on everyone's mind. The key to unlocking the colours is your soulmate. Meeting their eyes will make you be able to see all the hues and shades of the world. Those who see colours describe it so beautifully. People usually discover their soulmates between the age of 18 and 25, some earlier and some later. However, some people start to lose hope when year after year passes and no colour is introduced into their lives.

You have lived your life hoping and believing that one day, a single glance will change your world. But as you've hit your adult years and not a single colour, you've lost hope, all your friends and family see colour already, even your 13 year old cousin. So you just came to terms with seeing life in monochrome. You just focused on your career, building it up and making something of yourself.

You've worked in a few sports before, football, tennis before you moved to motorsport, starting with NASCAR then Formula 2 and here you are now after two months in Formula 2 you've been promoted to Formula 1. The world of formula 1 is very fast-paced, and you find yourself deep in it, watching old races and interviews and races. The sport intrigued you, the races, the adrenaline, the drama.

Due to your easy going nature, and how you can get people comfortable, you've been made to interview the drivers for a new segment for F1TV, a room was giving to you on track and each week you sit down for a long interview with two drivers.

“I just don't understand. Why won't you try it?” You heard your mum's voice through your phone's speaker. Rolling your eyes at her words as you got ready for the day. “Don't roll your eyes at me.”

You sigh and wonder how she always knows when you do that. “Mum, I told you, I don't want to.”

“I just don't get why, I've heard of so many stories of people being happy after they try it.”

“Mum, please, I'm busy with work, I don't have time for any of this.” You exasperated.

“That excuse died a long time ago.” Your mum fought back.

“Mum, I love you, but you just don't get it, so please just leave me be.” 

“I only say this because I care about-”

“You don't understand, and you never well, okay, you found dad when you were 19, you've found him and you never had to go on dates for people who lost or gave up, and yes I kind of lost hope, I'm not getting my hopes up anymore, but it kills me, why do I not have a soulmate, everyone I know already found theirs and I hear about it all the time, I'm lonely, I'm extremely lonely, even when I'm out with friends when we have family gatherings I'm lonely, and I heat about colours and shades and all I see is grey, so don't try to enterfer anymore please, just let me be.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I'm sorry, love.” Was all she could say in the end. “I didn't realise.”

“I know you didn't.” Your voice sounded defeated. “I have a to go, I'll talk to you later.”

“Okay, honey, talk to you later.”

Your conversation with your mother left you feeling down and unmotivated.

This weekend, you'd be interviewing Alex Albon and Max Verstappen. Alex came first, and you sat down in front of the cameras for the lengthy interview. The set was cozy, and Alex was a blast to interview. You talked about racing to his pets, to golf, to his dreams, and so on. Alex is funny and easy to talk to you, so the interview went smoothly, and he didn't stop talking, and it all just flowed easy between the two of you. Even with your bad mood, you still enjoyed your time, and your mood got better.

After Alex left with a quick hug, you were told that Verstappen would be coming a bit later than anticipated, so you'd have 45 minutes between the interviews. That time, you and the crew took a break and ate some food before you had to be ready once more for the reigning world champion. And right before he came in, one of the crew rushed in and went straight to you and the producer.

"Max is apparently in a very bad mood. The media panel today was a disaster." He told the two of you, your eyes met the producers in worry. You've seen interviews of angry Max, and you weren't looking forward to interviewing him, not after the morning you had.

"I thought we only had drivers without the panel for the week?" You asked, confused.

"I did, too. There must've been a mix-up either with us or his schedule." The producer told you. "What was he asked?"

"Uh, they asked about him not finding his soulmate, and if it's maybe a sign that he's meant to be alone." You and the producer gasped at the rude question, of course his mood was soured, you don't ask or speak about people who haven't found their soulmates like that, you knew the pain of not finding your other half very well, and it's always painful to constantly asked about if you found them. "They even asked if he thinks his mood will get better once he does and if he'll calm down."

"Wow, that's just, that's so rude." The producer said and looked at you. Everyone knows you haven't found yours as well. The producer gave you a smile and patted your shoulder. "Don't worry and just stay calm. Our questions aren't intrusive or uncatting. We don't have anything about his love life.”

“You're right.” You nod to yourself in encouragement.

Max walks in with his entourage, his press officer walks over to you and the producer, she tells you to just jump into the interview seeing as he ran late to come here and he has other things he needs to do after.

You glance at the driver as he gets mic-ed up. Max's presence was imposing, his haw was set, and his eyes were hard. You could feel his mood even from a distance. The producer hurried you along.

You sat on the comfortable sofa, you try out the sofas each week to make sure it's comfortable for the drivers, as the sport light was on you. You introduced yourself with a fake smile, glancing at Max for a second before looking at your notes.

"Good afternoon, Max." You started calming your racing heart by saying to yourself that this is just an interview. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us today. How are you feeling about this weekend's race?"

"It's going to be a challenging race, but I'm confident." Max's expression remained guarded, but he responded as calmly as he could. "The team has done a great job, as we're well-prepared."

"That's always good to hear." You replied, keeping your tone light. Maybe this won't be too bad. "This track has a lot of history. Do you have any special memories or moments here that stand out to you?"

"Definitely, this was one of the first tracks I raced in in Formula 1." Max's gaze softened, and yet again, your eyes just looked all over his face not meeting his eyes, even in monochrome you couldn't deny how good looking he is, you wondered what colour his hair is, it looks soft.

"It's a very demanding track, but once you get it right, it's very rewarding."

"That's wonderful." You nodded, feeling the tension ease just a bit. "Now, moving away from racing for a moment, how do you usually unwind during the season? Especially with such a long season, do you have any hobbies or activities that help you relax?"

As you asked the question, you looked up, meeting Max's eyes for the first time. In that split second, and as you blinked, everything changed. The world around you, previously in grayscale blur, just erupted into vibrant, breathtaking colour. Starting from Max's eyes, their shades the first thing you've seen, and moving to the color of his clothes, the sofa and everything around you, everything has come to life in a way you've never experienced before. Max's eyes warm and held an expression mirroring your own.

Max blinked, and in an instant, his stern an slightly annoyed façade/mood broke, a genuine smile that he never had before broke across his face.

"I-uh." He cleared his throat to try and regain some of his composure after the revelation he just had, both your eyes meeting and not straying from each other. "I enjoy spending time with my family and friends." He said, his voice softer, almost as if he was speaking to you alone. "I also spend a lot of time sim racing and gaming with my friends, a bit of FIFA here and there."

Like Max, you could hardly believe what had happened, fighting to maintain your composure, you continue a smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds like a lot of fun. Do you ever play FIFA with other drivers? I imagine it would get pretty competitive."

"Yes, we do, sometimes." Max chuckled, the tension between the two of you completely dissolved to the amazement of everyone behind the cameras. "It's always a good time, and it definitely gets competitive. We take it seriously, even though it's just for fun."

The crew keeps exchanging confused glances unaware of the profound shift that had occurred. You force yourself to focus on the next question, the vibrant colours making everything around you feel surreal.

“Speaking of competition, if you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, what other career path do you think you might have taken?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Max leaned back, considering the question. “I’ve always been passionate about sports, so maybe something related to that, like engineering or coaching. I enjoy working closely with a team and seeing how everything comes together.”

“That’s really interesting.” You said, nodding. “It shows how much you value teamwork and the technical aspects of the sport.”

“What about you?” Max asks, and you look at him confused. “If you weren't a journalist, what would you want to be?”

“Oh, since I choose sports and have been surrounded by it for years, I think I'd be a sportswoman.” You tell him with a smile. “You're lucky, I'm too old to get into karting.”

“Guess, if you were into karting, we would've met years ago.” You knew what he meant. You could've met your soulmate years ago if you'd been in karting. 

“I guess so.” You try not to think about the what ifs as you ask the last question. “One last question that we ask to every driver, what advice would you give to young aspiring drivers who look up to you?”

Max’s eyes met yours again, a spark of connection undeniable between you. “I’d tell them to stay focused and never give up. It’s a tough journey, but if you’re passionate and willing to work hard, you can achieve your dreams. It’s important to stay dedicated, even when things get tough.”

“Great advice, Max. Thank you so much for your time. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.” You concluded, barely able to contain the smile spreading across your face.

Max smiled back, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “Thank you. It’s been great speaking with you, too.”

The interview wrapped up, but as the revelation between the two lf you lingered you didn't want to leave, after so many years of guessing who your soulmate be and almost giving up entirely you didn't want to be apart from even for a second.

Max may seem tough to people, strong and determined, but he's spent nights dreaming of when he'd finally meet you. His thoughts lately have been of self doubt, maybe everyone is right, and the reason he hadn't met you yet is that he doesn't deserve you. He's too hot-headed, too aggressive. But here you are, proving him and everyone who doubted him wrong.

The crew, oblivious to the transformation, began packing up the equipment, their chatter and movements a blur in your colourful new world.

Max turned to you, his demeanour noticeably lighter, a subtle smile still playing on his lips. 

“I don’t have my phone with me.” Max managed to find his voice, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Could I borrow yours for a moment?”

“Of course.” You replied, your voice trembling slightly as you handed him your phone.

He took it with a nod of thanks and quickly entered his number, calling his own phone to ensure that he'll be able to contact you after the day is over. When he handed your phone back, your fingers brushed, and an electric jolt shot through you, confirming the profound connection. As if the colours weren't enough, the electric feeling that went through you is a confirmation. Max left the room with a lingering look at you.

The crew, sensing something unusual but unable to pinpoint it, exchanged puzzled glances. One of your colleagues approached, and his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What just happened?” He asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Did you two know each other before?”

You struggled to keep your emotions in check, a smile fighting to break free. “No, we just...connected.” You said, unable to find the right words to describe the whirlwind of emotions and the explosion of colour that had transformed your world.

Max left the room and started to look around, as if he's seeing everything for the first time and in a sense he was. He took in the colours that have been described to him many times before, he looked to the sky and saw the blue everyone described, he saw a few trees and saw the green leaves and the brown trunk. Everything looked so different now.

The rest of the day you both got questions and buzzed looks from those working with you, both your moods are good and it's not wavering, it's not changing. The realisation of what had happened, of finding your soulmate in such an unexpected place, left you reeling.

Later, as the paddock began to empty and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape, as you stood and watched your first colourful sunset, you received a message from Max.

Meet me after you finish work. We need to talk.

Time could couldn’t go by fast enough, you kept looking at your phone waiting for Max to tell you where you'd meet  you had finished your work for the day, but work for F1 drivers take kuchen longer than yours. Every moment stretched into eternity as you waited for it to end. As you looked at the sun from the top of the FIA hospitality, you wished Max was with you enjoying your first sunset together. You dont know Max, you know if Max, but you've never met before today, but you feel like you do. It feels like everything is alright, like the world is finally tilted the right way, gravity is finally working.

come to redbull motorhome.

You made the jounry from the FIA building to redbull, right as you reached through building Max came out and gestured for you to come in, trying not to be seen by fans or cameras. He made you walk in front of him, his hand on your back as he guided you. You feel the heat, and even the electricity was evident through the layers of your clothes, you relaxed instantly to his toutch, leaning back into it. Max sighed. It felt like he could toutch you skin to skin, the feeling vibrated through him filling him up.

Max led you to his room. From the tours you've seen other teams do, Max's room looked the best. You both sat on the sofa facing each other. Your eyes were just taking the other in, Max's hair was ruffled, as if he ran his hand through it a lot. You took in his eyes, which you now know are blue, his nose the shape of his jaw, yhe frekle on his lips, you're trying to memorise him. Tattoo him into your mind.

Max took your hand in his, and you wonder if the feeling of electricity will remain forever or will it fade with time. You both close your eyes for a moment. 

“Did you have a good day?” You asked softly after you opened your eyes.

“It didn't start ikay, but there's something that made my day, my week, my life.” Max replied, his voice gentle. You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face. There was a moment of silence, each of you searching for the right words to express the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

“I can’t believe what happened earlier.” You began, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief. “I never thought... I had almost given up on finding my soulmate.”

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Me too. I’ve been so focused on racing, I started to think that maybe it wasn’t going to happen for me. But then I saw you, and everything changed.”

You leaned closer, it wasn't a conscious decision, but you were feeling the warmth of his presence. “I’ve been living in black and white for so long, I forgot what it felt like to hope. And now, it’s like... like everything has come alive.”

Max squeezed your hand, sending a familiar electric thrill through you, a reminder of the bond you had discovered. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been so caught up in my career, I stopped looking for anything else. But today, meeting you... it’s like the world has finally made sense.” You smiled, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How we can go from feeling like we’re missing something, to finding everything in a single moment.”

“I’m so glad we found each other. It’s like a dream come true, one I never thought I’d get to experience.” Max’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the same vibrant colors that now filled your world.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the connection deepening with each passing second. “I’m happy too. I was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t meant for me, that maybe I’d never see the world in colour. But now, being here with you... it feels like everything was leading up to this.”

Max’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. “I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s like... like we were always meant to find each other, no matter what.”

You nodded, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. “I feel the same way. It’s like all the waiting. All the wondering was worth it because it brought me to you.”

He gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring. “We have a lot to look forward to.” he said softly. “And I can’t wait to experience everything in colour, either you.” 

You leaned into his touch, your heart filled with a warmth you had never known before. “Me too, Max. I’m so grateful we found each other, even if it took a bit longer than we expected. It was worth the wait.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, the world around you fading into a blur of colour and emotion. For the first time in your life, you felt complete, the missing piece of your heart finally found.

As you sat there in his room, the noise from outside faddws away and a that mattered was that you found each other.

Later that week on Sunday, you find yourself in the media pen, Max wasn't on the podium after contact with another driver on track, Max wasn't amused, he hated losing, he was clearly not satisfied. The frustration was evident in his clenched jaw and the tense set of his shoulders as he made his way through the sea of microphones and cameras, his responses curt and tinged with irritation. The incident with another driver had cost him the win, and you could already sense the frustration simmering in the air.

Finally, it was your turn. As he approached, you could see the tension in his posture, the anger still simmering just below the surface. You offered a gentle smile, hoping to soften his mood.

“Hi, Max. Tough race today.” You began, keeping your voice calm and understanding. “Can you walk us through what happened out there?”

Max sighed, his expression strained but slightly less harsh as he met your gaze. “Yeah, it wasn’t great. We were doing well, but then there was contact with another car, and that threw everything off. It’s frustrating because we had a good chance of winning.”

You nodded, listening intently. “I can understand how disappointing that must be. Can you tell us more about the incident? What exactly happened?”

He glanced around, his irritation still evident but less intense than before. “He was going for an overtake, and I thought I had enough room, but we ended up colliding. It cost us a lot of time and positions. It’s just... frustrating.”

Your heart went out to him. You wanted to offer some comfort, to show him that you understood his frustration. Max was leaning his hands on the barrier so you subtly reached out and touched his hand, a gentle, reassuring gesture. He glanced down, surprised, and when he looked back up at you, his eyes had softened.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Max.” You said, your voice filled with genuine concern. “It must be tough to end the race this way after all the hard work you and the team put in.”

He took a deep breath, his expression relaxing a bit more. “Yeah, it’s not the result we wanted, but that’s racing. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger. Thanks for understanding.”

You offered a supportive smile, your hand still resting lightly on his. “I’m sure you will. You’ve always shown great resilience. What’s the plan moving forward from here?”

Max’s mood seemed to lighten further, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “We’ll go back, analyze what happened, and make sure we’re better prepared for the next race. It’s important to keep looking forward.”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, your voice encouraging. “One setback doesn’t define you or the team. You’ve got a lot of races ahead, and I’m sure we’ll see you back on the top soon.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that.”

As the interview wrapped up, Max’s demeanor was noticeably calmer. The frustration from earlier had dulled, replaced by a quiet determination. He glanced at you, a hint of gratitude in his expression.

“Thanks for the interview.” He said, his voice softer once the mic was out of his face. “And for... you know, understanding.”

You smiled back, your heart lifting. “Anytime, Max. I’m sure the next race will be better.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. Max will always be grateful for you. He's known you for a couple days, and you both spent all of your free time together and texting whenever you could. He felt like you understood the highs and lows of racing making him bind with you more. You understood sport and how everything can change in a second.

For now, the disappointment of the day was behind him, and the promise of future victories lay ahead. And in that brief, quiet moment, you had been able to offer a bit of comfort, a reminder that even in the toughest times, there’s always a reason to look forward.

Max accidently said he sees colour in one of the interviews a few months later, and so the hunt for his soulmate has begun. Thankfully, since you work in F1, you weren't suspected, and so you were able to keep your privacy. For a while.

During winter break, photos of you were released to the public, and the fans have gone wild. Every single interaction you've had was cut and edited. And the moment your eyes met went viral all over social media, in the F1 sphere and outside of it.

For you and Max, you're both just glad you finally found your other half. That you don't have to go through this world alone.

Vote for the next one

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

tornadoes aren't more important than you

tyler owens (twisters) x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: pregnant!reader, married!reader, established relationship

“be careful, yeah?” you place your hands on tylers cheeks, tilting his head down to look you in the eye.

“i wish you could come with me.” tyler sighs, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours, his cowboy hat tipping upwards and off his head, clattering onto the hardwood.

“i know.” you miss it. the excitement, the fear, the anticipation of storm chasing. “but i don't think the baby would like me getting whipped around.”

tyler chuckles and presses his hands to your stomach, fully showing now that you've reached six months.

“im gonna be safe and im gonna be back home to you real soon.” tyler kisses you deeply, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you in close.

“uh, not to interrupt-” 

“you are interrupting, boone.” tyler looks up at him as he stands in the open doorway, trucks filling the driveway.

“we were just finishing saying goodbye.” you raise to your tiptoes and give tyler one more peck. 

“i love you.” you whisper against your husbands lips.

“i love you, baby.”

“ew.” boones nose scrunches up, still somehow not used to seeing you kiss despite being married for a year now.

“you stay safe too boone.” you point at him, watching as they head out the door and pile in the trucks.

you wave goodbye to everyone, tyler getting in last as he tips his hat he grabbed off the floor towards you, a silent promise to come back home.

you sigh as you watch them pull away, hand stroking over your belly as the trucks disappear in a cloud of dirt. “it's okay.” you whisper to the baby, but it's mostly for yourself. “daddy will be back.”

--

“hey.” you answer the phone with a smile on your face. “i watched the live stream.”

“pretty fucking cool huh?” 

“pretty cool that you let boone drive the rig.” you chuckle, knowing tyler did that specifically for you, to show you that he can let others take the lead, let them be the one to drive into the tornado.

“how's my baby doing?” tyler asks, ignoring your teasing.

“which one?” you giggle, laying a hand on your stomach. “im good, baby is kicking a lot though.”

“put me on speaker.” tyler requests. you roll your eyes but still turn the volume up and hold the speaker up to your belly.

“it's daddy.” tylers voice is half strict and half high baby voice. “you better stop giving your mama grief when im not there to help her. behave for just a bit longer, buddy.”

“i hope he listens to you.” you shake your head, bringing the phone back up. “how's the storms looking for tomorrow?”

“tracking a couple cells.” tyler confirms. “im coming home friday no matter what they look like over the weekend.”

“mhm, sure.” you roll your eyes, although you don't doubt it. now that you're pregnant, tyler is even more protective over you. he knows you can handle anything, but that doesn't mean he's going to force you to do it all on your own.

“i will. already miss that pretty face baby.” his country twang is music to your ears as you hum out.

“i miss you too. miss kissing your lips.”

“you're killing me, sugar.” tyler groans. you hear dani shouting something in the background.

“i-”

“you gotta go. i know. love you.”

“love you more, darling.”

--

you have tylers livestream on in the background as you clean the house, feeling the urge to nest and get everything prepared before you're too pregnant to do anything, and tyler certainly wouldn't let you lift a finger when hes home.

you always dreamt of a beautiful old farmhouse like this all your life, but before you could move in tyler insisted on building a proper storm shelter to keep you safe.

you unpack some of the boxes of things you bought for the baby's room, sticking to yellows and oranges to keep everything brightly colored and cohesive, in contrast to the darkening sky.

you're not right in the path of tornados, but they have been known to swing up and hit the closest town every couple years.

you know the cloudy sky is just a result of all the activity further to the west where your husband currently is.

you look back to your phone, watching for a moment as his handsome face turns to look out the window. you can see the reflection of the twister in his eyes, a mix of awe struck and fear that any man within his right mind would feel.

“god-” you look up to the ceiling. you're not the biggest believer, but growing up in the south has you always reverting to whispering a prayer. “keep my husband safe.”

--

you let out a yawn as you adjust, not knowing for sure the sound that woke you up until you hear it again, your cellphone vibrating on the nightstand.

“hello?” your voice is groggy as you answer. you didn't bother to look at the contact name, there's only one person who would be calling you at this hour. “tyler?”

“baby, get to the storm shelter right now.”

“what?” the words have you instantly awake, hopping to your feet and looking out the window of your second story bedroom. “it looks fine.”

“im- just trust me! are you going?” you can hear the nerves in tyler's voice as well as the roaring of his truck no doubt speeding down the road.

“yes.” you confirm, grabbing one of tylers sweatshirts and slipping it over your head before finding a pair of shoes. “im going down the stairs right now.”

the second you step outside, you can feel the shift in the air.

“im tracking it on the data. we reported it but they said it's not on their maps as if our equipment isn't ten years newer.”

you listen to tylers rant as you round the house to pull open the storm shelter doors. it's not a glamorous area, small and tight but completely concrete and filled with a couple boxes of supplies.

“im in the shelter, ty.” you reassure him as you close the latch. “im safe. the babys safe.”

“it's building.” tyler says, no doubt looking at the radar or getting reports fed to him from boone. “im coming home to you, ill be there in two hours. fuck it, make it an hour and a half.”

“it's wednesday.” you state, although its just after midnight so technically thursday. “you said you weren't coming home until friday.”

“that was before a torando was gonna hit you. baby, i don't want you to go through this alone when you're pregnant.”

“ill be fine.” you reassure tyler. “but if you want to come back and make sure, you're more than welcome. like i said, i miss your lips.”

“gonna give you lots of kisses to make up for being gone.”

“i won't argue with that.” your phone beeps and you pull it away from your ear to realize you're losing service. “i think we are going to disconnect soon.”

“stay on as long as you possibly can.”

you try, but your phone beeps again and the call drops out.

sitting alone in the darkness heightens your other senses, feeling the cold air sneaking in through every available crack as your ears pick up the sound of the wind roaring.

you close your eyes and press your hands against your stomach, softly singing a nursery rhyme that your mother sung to you when you were a baby, your eyes sliding closed as you fall back asleep.

--

you're startled awake suddenly as the door rips open, only for tyler to quickly enter.

“is it over?” you ask, standing up and wobbling slightly. tyler grabs your hips, holding you up and looking at you up and down, his eyes examining you. you watch the stress and fear and anxiety melt away to be replaced with softness and love.

“it's over.” he confirms, tugging you in close. 

“the house?”

“a busted window and a downed tree blocking the driveway. that's all.” tyler presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent.

“wasn't bad then.” you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the warm embrace.

“no, but i got so fucking scared knowing you were here all alone.” tyler pulls away only to help you up the stairs, hating seeing you confined to the shelter even if it is to keep you safe.

“i just… i can't do this while you're pregnant. i can't leave you here, or anywhere, alone knowing something could happen to you.”

tyler pulls his phone out of his pocket and navigates to his youtube channel, going live and waiting for a couple users to join.

he holds the camera up so he can see himself and you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

“as you folks know, my lovely wife here is pregnant with our first child. as much as i love tornado wrangling, i love my girl more. for the next six months im going to be taking a step back, but don't unsubscribe, boone is taking over to keep the excitement coming.”

he doesn't even say goodbye, simply ending the livestream, knowing one of his followers surely recorded it to spread the news around.

“ty, you didn't have to do that.”

“yes, i did.” tyler bends down to lift you up, carrying you across the threshold of your house just like he did the day you got married. “im gonna be with you throughout everything. tornados aren't more important than you.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny dies every night.

So! Danny's secret Ghost Powers remained a secret for about 6 Hours.

After turning back into a Human, he had immediately gone back to his room and tried to fall asleep, pretending none of it was even real, that it was just a dream. The idea that he had just died was understandably hard to swallow, not to mention the fact he had somehow come back.

All he wanted to do was rest and figure it out later. It was a problem for Future Danny.

Except when he woke up, something was wrong.

He felt Cold, Colder than he had ever been before. It was as if he had a chunk of pure Ice stuck in his Chest, the cold spreading across every part of his body. With a start he realized that his chest wasn't moving at all, either from the beating of his heart or the breaths he was supposed to be taking.

He wasn't breathing. His heart wasn't pumping. The Ice in his chest was the feeling of his heart not pumping, still and unnaturally cold. At that realization, he felt his Heart begin beating again.

He ran downstairs, hoping to get his parents help. He didn't know what was going on exactly, but they must be able to help him right?! They were the leading experts on Undead Biology, they must know how to help him!

When he reached the kitchen, he saw his parents and Jazz huddled together at the table, crying together for some reason.

"Mom! Dad! Jazz! Somethings wrong! I don't know what happened, but last night I-"

He stopped when he saw their faces. Their cheeks were tear-streaked, eyes bloodshot, but the thing he noticed first was the grief and absolutely confusion in their eyes. They were staring at him as if they had seen a Ghost, figuratively of course, and they seemed to he trying to connect the dots in their heads.

"Danny?" Jazz asked in a shaky voice. "Is that you?"

"Jazz?" He asked in return, "What do you mean, of course it's me?"

She looked hopeful for a moment, before his mom stood up.

"No." She said, her voice held a hard edge. "It's not."

Danny almost fell over when she said that. "W-what?" He asked, "What are you talking about Mo-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" She yelled. She gripped the Blaster in her hand tighter, aiming it at him. "I checked everything when we found Danny's body! He had no Pulse, no Brain Activity, and his Ecto Levels were far higher than normal! Danny is Dead! And you killed him!"

"What?!" Danny yelled in shock, "I didn't kill hi-I mean, I didn't kill me-I mean-What are you talking about!?"

This time his dad answered, getting up from the table himself. In his hand was another Blaster. "Danny's Ecto Levels could only have been that high if killed by something with a large amount of Ectoplasm, enough to leave such a mark. The Portal was open for hours last night before we found it and sealed it up, and that's when you got through isn't it!?"

His Dad leveled the Blaster to him.

"No! I'm not a Ghost, it's me! It's Danny!?" He pleaded, "Mom, I always baked you a cake on mother's day! Dad, I helped you clean up the lab the last time you blew it up! It's me!"

"Nice try." His mother said, "Die again, Ecto Scum."

That day, Danny ran away from home.

...

Ever since that day, Danny had been running as far as he could from Amity Park.

After he got out of the house, he tried to find any place he could hide as he figured everything out. His first try was Tucker, but his parents had anticipated that and beat him to the Punch. The same happened when he tried to go to Sam's, he barely escaped that situation alive(?).

At first he tried to stay in Amity, hoping he would eventually find a way to convince his parents of his true identity, so everything could go back to normal.

He abandoned that hope about a week later, when his parents got the local authorities on their side and issued a public service announcement stating he was a Murderer who killed their son, and to contact the Police if anybody saw him. The mindless Ghost they captured and presented on the Local News cemented the publics view on him.

So he ran from Amity.

The first few weeks on the Run were the worst. He wasn't used to surviving on the street, much less evading the Law Enforcement that seemed to keep finding him. He had to constantly stay on the move to keep away from the pursuit of his Parents, the Police, and the weird guys in white suits who had shown up once he passed the State Border.

His new Ghost Powers were the only thing that had let him get away most of those times. He could turn into a Full Ghost whenever he wanted, unlocking all of his powers for the time being, but also seemingly sending up a Beacon to whoever was looking for him. He found it was much easier to use their weakened versions in his Human Form.

As for his Undead-ness, he had mostly figured it out. His body was lying to him. He was Dead, but his Body was just pretending to be alive for his own sake. He didn't need to breath anymore, and his heart didn't need to pump, but they did because he felt that they needed to. He probably didn't even need to eat anymore.

The problem was that it couldn't keep it up when he was asleep. No matter what, every time he fell asleep his Body would die again, and when he woke up he would have to make it Live again.

One of the main reasons he kept getting caught recently was because well-meaning civilians would report to the Police that there was a Dead Teenager under a Bridge, or on a Park Bench, or on one memorable occasion in a Ditch. He would wake up in a Body Bag, escape, and be reported to his Pursuers.

At least his pattern of movement was untraceable so far.

Turns out, the Portal's opening had much more of an effect than his parents had anticipated. The Shockwave in the fabric of Reality when they punched a hole through it (and him), had caused dozens of Natural Portals to form across the Country, opening and closing in random places, soaking the area of Ectoplasm.

As an apparent Ghost, Danny was somehow drawn to these places. Whenever he got to one he felt rejuvenated, as if the stress of the past few days had never happened to him. He could only assume that he was Absorbing the Ectoplasm in the area to feed himself, based on a few of the things he remembered from his parents constant ramblings.

Whenever he would go to one of these places, he would find a bunch of Ghosts. Some were friendly, defying all of his expectations, while others were...less so.

They seemed to resent the fact that he was still half-alive, some simply jabbing insults at him, others straight up attacking him. It seemed that Life was a sore subject among those guys. Or maybe it was him stopping them whenever they attacked humans...that was probably more accurate.

Sometimes the Ghosts he would meet were in the middle of attacking humans to fulfill what they called their "Obsessions". He learned that all Undead, and basically all Immortal Beings, have Obsessions. They are their Sole Purpose in existence, a built in defense mechanism against insanity by giving them something to dedicate Eternity to.

He didn't know if he had an Obsession, but if he did he hoped it was easier to manage than theirs seemed to be. One of them was obsessed with attention, but got it by hypnotizing humans into adoring her. She chilled out after a while. Another loved the thrill of the Hunt, but only wanted rare game. He chased after Danny a lot in pursuit of his "One of a Kind Pelt".

He fought then off and saved people whenever he could, although sometimes it was risky. Many of them were older and more experienced than him, so he was forced to use his Ghost Form against some of them, sacrificing his hiding spot to save the people being terrorized.

He sort of enjoyed it. Whenever he helped people, saved them from danger, he felt better about his situation. As if he was making the best out of the horrible situation his life had turned into by helping as many people as he could. He always felt a bit more motivated to keep going every time he helped anybody.

Maybe that was his Obsession? Helping others? He didn't really think so, he was nowhere near altruistic enough to consider that a possibility. Maybe it was Space? He always felt that same relief when he would camp out away from the Cities. Eh, he'll probably never know.

This cycle of finding a new hiding spot, getting discovered, and running away again continued for a while. Years even.

Danny had Died at 14. He was now 17, and had been homeless for 3 years.

He hoped this next hiding spot would last a bit longer than the previous ones. This one felt different, the Ectoplasm he was wandering towards felt older than the other places he had gone. His previous hiding spots had always been the site of a recent Natural Portal, and the Ectoplasm in the atmosphere would feel Fresh and Wild.

But the Ectoplasm where he was going tasted Older, Stronger, more Set in Stone than the others had. Wherever he wad headed to next, it had been soaking in Ectoplasm for far longer than any other place he had ever been, even in Amity.

He walked up the the Sign at the side of the road, introducing the City to newcomers.

"Welcome to Gotham City" it said.

[bhaalsbabe]

This bed has seen everything

Pairing: afab!Durge Reader x Enver Gortash

Label: nsfw

Word count: ~2k

Summary/warnings: MDNI, afab!durge, durge is a magic user, unprotected sex, piv, creampie, some biting on both sides (and both sides like it), choking (receiving), the glove stays on, Gortash is a simp for durge but what's new, Gorty is more dominant here

Author's note: long expected part two of This desk has seen everything. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

You need to focus or you'll get yourself killed. The Emperor's stern voice rumbled inside your head, the force of his mind pushing your urge back, enough for you to see clearer again. You were standing next to an open manhole. Looking around to figure out where you were, you noticed an undead beggar you ran into after entering the Lower City a day before. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you made your way back to the room you had acquired in Elfsong Tavern. As soon as you entered the main square, however, you were stopped by one of the steel watchers.

"Citizen, lord Gortash is looking for you. Please return to Wyrm's Rock Fortress immediately," its robotic voice said.

"And what if I don't return?" You asked, not in the mood to deal with both Gortash and this annoying piece of metal.

"Then you'll be escorted there against your will."

You frowned, thinking about your options quickly. You hated having to follow anyone's orders. At the same time, you weren't in a position where you could take out the entire city's guards, and while you could turn invisible to slip out of this steel watcher's grasp, you would have to show yourself eventually and be captured then.

"Fine, I'm going there right now. Happy?" Your voice was dripping with malice that totally went over the steel watcher's head. It continued standing there menacingly, watching you as you made your way out of the city again. You walked as slow as possible, wondering what awaited you.

Gortash wanted you. That much was evident. The surprising part was that you wanted him too. This man, who was ready to doom so many people for his god and hunger for power, who hurt Karlach so much and sold her to Zariel... You should hate him and be planning his assassination, putting a stop to all of this. Yet instead, you were thinking of how familiar his touch felt on your body, how it made your heart sing in a similar way as killing did. Even without the memories that would explain the reasons for it, you craved him, his brilliant mind and his reverent touch.

As you entered the fortress, you were greeted by the mechanical voice of the steel watcher, telling you that "lord Gortash is awaiting you in his chambers". Two guards, these made of actual flesh, then lead you to what you assumed were the doors to his chambers. You waited until they left before entering, your heart speeding up in anticipation.

The room was big and expensive looking. It screamed 'important person resides here'. Currently dimly lit through various hanging lanterns, you could still make out the prevalent colours, red and black, with occasional sprinkle of green. All the way back was a king sized bed with canopy, with its owner sitting on its edge.

"You gave me quite a scare back there. I thought you'd start a bloody rampage in the open." He chuckled but you noticed he sounded almost relieved as his eyes set on you. You felt a pull towards him, your feet leading you to the bed on their own.

"I warned you I'm not as in-control as you might think." You replied, stopping in front of him. The dark lighting of the room made him look more imposing and you had to admit, it suited him. Black was his colour. His smile widened as he caught you staring at him.

"Can't help yourself? I don't blame you~" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead choosing to ask the question that's been burning in you.

"What exactly were we?" You winced at how unsure and vulnerable you sounded. Gone was your usual confidence. When it came to your past, you were lost and helpless and it scared you. Part of you berated yourself for showing a weakness to an enemy of such status as Gortash.

But he didn't take advantage of it. His eyes softened and his flirtatious smile changed into a melancholic one. You had a strong feeling not many people had seen this particular expression on him. He stood up, taking both of your hands into his while gazing into your eyes.

"Allies," one of his hands left yours to wrap around your waist and pull you against his lean body. You let him do it, intuitively putting your free hand around him too.

"Friends," he leaned close to you, his next word whispered to your ear as if it were the most precious secret.

"Lovers." You heard him take a deep breath, almost like he was taking in your scent, his hold on you tightening for a brief second before he pulled away, reluctantly letting you go and stepping back.

Hearing him actually say it made a bit of your doubt and guilt go away. Of course your body recognised your lover, even if your mind struggled. You weren't betraying your friends by wanting to be close to Gortash. How could they possibly blame you for wanting someone you used to love?... You could easily do more mental gymnastics to defend your following actions if necessary.

Your breathing quickened as you pushed him back, making him fall into the bed, before climbing over him. "Good. Now I don't feel so bad for wanting to fuck you."

His eyes widened as he took you in, looking up at you as if you were a god, a self-satisfied smile stretching over his face.

"Old habits die hard~" He said before using his strength to flip you over. "You should know your place, however," his voice was deeper, his clawed hand wrapping around your neck, making it harder to breathe. You glared at him in defiance, displeased that he'd dare to do this.

"Oh, are you imagining slicing me open now? Frying me with you spells?" His eyes and voice were laced with amusement. He put more pressure on your neck, the sharp claws digging into the soft skin of your neck. He leaned close to your face. "Good."

The moment your lips connected, he released his hold on your neck enough for you to be able to breathe better again. His other hand made it's way under your shirt, mapping your body to his memory again. He sighed contentedly, almost getting lost in the simple kiss-

And then you bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood and to make him recoil in shock. He pulled away, touching his bleeding lip gingerly before looking back at you. His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he watched you lick your lips, stained by his blood. His pants got more tight as you gave him a mad grin, one that used to be on your face so often before your disappearance.

"I didn't think you still had it in you," he chuckled, looking way too happy for someone who could've lost his lip.

"You seem to be enjoying the pain. Aren't you supposed to be a tyrannical sadist?" You teased him, dropping your gaze at his quite visible bulge before looking back at him.

"Oh I can be, trust me, dear. You're just too special." He got near your face again, scanning over your features with his eyes. You could see the imperfections on his skin in return - the soft wrinkles around his eyes, the laugh lines, the scar on his chin - and as you shared this moment, you truly felt special.

You started kissing each other once again, more passionately and ferociously, both of you needing to feel, touch, taste each other. Gortash pressed his clothed erection against your core and you moaned into the kiss, your legs wrapping around his body to pull him closer, to stimulate the spot that was crying for attention. All of a sudden, none of you had the power to continue your playful banter. You needed him, and he needed you.

He started undressing you, his nimble fingers making quick work of your clothes and he didn't even have to stop kissing you for a moment. His hands kept exploring your body, squeezing in all the right places. He knew your body well.

His mouth left yours to kiss your jawline and continue lower, to your neck, your clavicle, and even lower, to give some welcome attention to your nipple. As he sucked on that piece of flesh, one of his hands started its journey over your inner thigh all the way to your cunt. He only dragged his finger through your folds, spreading your slick, and your hips buckled.

"Fuck... Enver, just fuck me already," you panted, your chest heaving heavily, your nails digging into his shoulders. He left your nipple with a 'pop', his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you before him, all desperate and needy, although he wasn't doing much better and you uttering his name didn't help.

"As you wish, my dear," he mumbled, removing his pants and underwear hastily. He didn't bother with prepping you, knowing you enjoyed the sting of his cock splitting you open and so he inserted his dick in you in one fell swoop. You tensed up, unused to this kind of pain, trying to hold back any sounds of discomfort. Gortash noticed it, kissing you softly on the lips, before whispering into your ear:

"You're doing great, my love, just relax." His fingers started playing with your clit, mixing the pain with pleasure and soon you were urging him to move again. He didn't need to be told twice, his hips pistoning into yours immediately after getting your permission.

He was thick, making the muscles in your vagina strain as they tried to accommodate his girth. It helped that you were embarrassingly wet, the squelch audible every time his dick moved in and out of you. Gortash buried his head in your neck, letting out whimpers that made you feel less humiliated about the noises you made.

"Ah, I've missed this. I've missed you. Thought I'd never see you again..." he mumbled into your neck, his breath hot against it. He cradled you close, as if you could slip between his fingers at any moment, his hips picking up speed. He wanted to enjoy this more, he truly did, but he was desperate to state his claim on you again, make you his once more. He made sure to rub circles into your clit in an effort to bring you to climax along with him. You were so responsive to his touch, like the first time you gave yourself to him, and he wanted to make sure you'll come back for more.

His clawed hand that held you close kept leaving bleeding scratches behind that you didn't mind at all, not when everything in this moment made you feel so alive. You thought killing felt great but this was actually better than that. He then bit your neck, groaning at the same time, his hips stilling, and you felt a warm sensation in you as he filled you with cum. With the continuous stimulation in and around your cunt, along with the small bits of pain he brought you, you followed him over the edge soon after, a silent prayer of his name on your lips.

You were both breathing heavily, still wrapped in each other as you tried to recover a bit of lucidity. Gortash finally pulled out, making his sperm spill out of you onto the expensive bedsheets but he couldn't care less. He laid next to you, pulling you against his chest, and he kissed your head sweetly. It felt unreal, that a supposed tyrant like him had the capacity to be so gentle, to an enemy no less, and yet here you were.

Well, let's just say you're heavily considering your alliance now.

[irisintheafterglow]

in his limited spare time, bakugo katsuki volunteers at the local animal shelter.

cw: brief blood/injury, swearing, much longer than i anticipated (i got carried away) this one's for you @lees-chaotic-brain <3

you were bewildered, at first, when the top-ranking pro stomped his way through the lobby not in need of a pet, but a job. everyone's starting foundations and scholarships and shit, he grumbled when you carefully asked why he wanted to be a shelter volunteer. i don't need any of that flashy shit. just wanna do something that makes a difference. you declined to point out that his job was making a difference in people's lives and wordlessly handed him the clipboard with the signup paperwork.

a few days later, he listens diligently during volunteer training and doesn't so much as wrinkle his nose when he enters the urine-stenched kennels on the walking tour. he stalks around the perimeter of the concrete building, barely flinching when the more aggressive dogs flash their sharp teeth. as the tour moves on to the cat cottages, you linger behind and watch him determinedly take a seat in front of the loudest and largest dog, a 90-pound shepherd mix who was also the longest resident of the shelter.

"she was mistreated, i think," you say as the room quiets until the only dog barking was the one snarling at bakugo. he doesn't look at you but acknowledges your words with a simple nod, looking carefully at the defensive animal in front of him. "i call her daisy."

"how long's she been here?"

"over a year and a half," you reply, approaching daisy's kennel and having a seat next to bakugo. his eyes flicker to you for only a moment before returning to the dog. "i was the one who received her when animal control brought her in."

"she trusts you," he observes. daisy has resorted to quiet growling from the corner closest to you, her fur sticking through the metal frame of the door. she allows you to brush your fingers against it, trembling against your touch while never taking her eyes off of the man beside you.

"we've been here the same amount of time," you confirm. "though only one of us is allowed to come and go," you add with a sad smile, fishing out a piece of bacon from your treat pouch and handing it to her through the bars.

"you ever think about takin' her home?"

"i want to, but i don't have enough space for her." you sigh, slipping her a chunk of cheddar cheese. daisy focuses more on the food than on bakugo, placated for the time being. "and, i need her to at least tolerate men if i want to get her out of this place. i just don't know how." he hums in assent and you don't exchange another word as he follows you out of the building, leaving daisy curled up in her corner.

---

"he's out of his mind."

"is he trying to get himself killed?"

"we're gonna have to put her down if he keeps this up," is the whisper of gossip that snaps you out of your workspace, prompting you to join the crowd at the window.

"what's going on?"

"that pro, dynamight? he's trying to tame that girl of yours," one of your fellow volunteers replies. "took a bag of treats and disappeared into the kennel ten minutes ago." you don't wait to hear another disapproving comment, grabbing a first aid kit and sprinting out to the building where daisy was.

you rush in, expecting to find a mess of blood and volunteer clothes, but the kennel is silent. uncharacteristically silent. he senses you when you enter, turning over his shoulder from his position seated on the floor in front of daisy.

"good, you're here. couldn't find you and all your coworkers were calling me crazy," he informs you as you sit next to him, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. "i wanna help you with her."

"respectfully, i'm not sure how that would-"

"you said she hates men, yeah? but the other day, when you were here with me, she didn't seem to mind if she was getting food in the process. we can use that." you blink at him, stunned at his willingness to train the dog deemed 'untrainable.' because of her size and her teeth, every other volunteer was terrified of even trying to feed daisy. yet, here was a newbie (albeit a very muscular one) wanting to wrestle the goliath in his first week.

"are you sure? it's gonna be a long process and i don't want to interfere with your schedule."

"what do you think sidekicks and interns are for? patrolling and catching random extras isn't good enough anymore," he states, watching daisy watch him through the dog door from the outside portion of her kennel. "i wanna do something that makes a difference."

so, with bakugo's help, you began the process of acclimatizing daisy to men. for the first few days, you would just sit in front of her kennel together for a few minutes and she would be rewarded every time she looked at bakugo without growling. then, you took her out into the yard, and he would gradually get closer as the days went on. soon enough, he could stand a few feet away without daisy so much as glancing at him, too intrigued by the sights and smells around her.

it was time for him to handfeed her.

"you're sure about this? her bite strength could easily tear off a finger," you warn him during the walk to daisy's kennel. you'd become quite the formidable team, working with daisy and efficiently completing tasks together without wasting any time. the kennels were the best they'd ever looked and smelled, and you finally felt like you were helping daisy progress. "i know you literally died and came back to life when you were in high school, but-"

"i can handle anything she throws at me, i promise."

"and you won't get pissed at her?" it was a question that you needed to muster up the courage to ask, one that poked at the back of your mind every time daisy started to frustrate bakugo. he wasn't known for being the most level-headed hero, and you were afraid of an eventual snap where he might lash out on the dog.

"hey," he begins, coming to a stop and facing you. his voice is genuine, his usual scowl replaced with stone-cold determination. "i swear that i'd rather get my heart blown up again or some shit than lay a hand on her."

"everyone says you have anger issues, bakugo. i think i'm well within my rights to be concerned," you point out and he barks out a laugh.

"i have anger issues when it comes to assholes that are purposefully assholes. i know that underneath all that anger, she's just scared," he shrugs. "that doesn't mean someone should give up on her. so, c'mon," he tilts his head in the direction of her building. "our girl's waiting."

one hour and a lifetime of coaxing later, you were sitting in the shade with daisy's head in your lap as bakugo hands her small pieces of hot dog and more cheese. the branches of the tree behind you stretch far above your head, providing shelter from the midday sun and dropping occasional leaves that daisy tried to bite from time to time. you let yourself relax, supervising while daisy continues to let bakugo feed her. every so often, you'll hear him murmur words of praise and encouragement, so soft and out of character that you'd think someone else was speaking them.

you open your eyes after a moment, not realizing that you'd closed them in the peacefulness of it all, and realize daisy is no longer in your lap. instead, she's seated next to bakugo, who lightly brushes the back of his hand against the fur under her chin. to your delight, she nudges his hand with the top of her head, letting him pet her from her eyes to where her collar sat on her neck.

"i think we reached a big accomplishment today," you whisper with a smile.

"all thanks to you," he replies. "if you hadn't believed in her, she wouldn't have been here."

"and if you hadn't have been here, she wouldn't have anyone else who believed she could change." your attention returns to daisy, who has begun sniffing around bakugo's belt in search of the treat pouch.

"oi," he says sternly but playfully. "what do you think you're doing?" for the first time in your history together, you see daisy wag her tail with someone else other than you, and she drops into a play bow in front of bakugo challengingly. "you wanna play, girl? you feel good enough with me that you wanna play?" she barks once, leaping around like a cricket in the grass.

"you heard her," you chuckle and he stands, keeping a respectful distance away from her in case she changed her mind. she doesn't, and begins bounding from one end of the yard to the other as bakugo chases after her. i'm gonna get you, clever girl, he calls after her. but you gotta catch me first, he taunts, running away from her and making her chase after him instead.

---

as with most things, good times could only last for so long.

it'd been six months since you started working with bakugo to help daisy, and a new round of volunteers were coming in for the season. with the new season came new business, and your partner abruptly cut his hours to the point where most of your work with daisy was solo. he'd given you his number on the third day of working together, but you never felt comfortable reaching out to him because you weren't sure if your relationship was at that point. it became a necessity, however, when a nepotism hire decided to undo all the work you'd done with daisy.

you heard the screaming before you registered the stamping of feet filing out of the doors and toward the dog kennels. it wasn't uncommon for a dog to spook a prospective adopter, but your heart sinks when you realize which specific kennel everyone was beginning to surround. by the time you reach daisy, she's already restrained by two large men, eyes wide and saliva dripping from her jowls. she's thrashing against her holders, and begins whining in a panic once she sees you break through the crowd.

"give her to me," you order the two large security guards that you didn't recognize. you vaguely register the idiot new-guy whose hubris told him he could handle the largest dog for an impromptu photoshoot; his arm is dripping red and his thin hair sticks to his pasty face. the guards were probably his, and any longer in their restraint would likely cause trachea damage to the poor girl. "i said, give. her. to. me."

"that dog is dangerous and needs to be put down!" you shoot the man a withering glare and forcibly yank daisy away from the men, holding her shaking body close and backing as far away from the commotion as possible. i know, i know. i've gotcha. it's okay, baby, i've gotcha, you whisper in her ear, tenderly stroking her ears pinned against her head. more men approach, seemingly to take her away, and she snaps in warning at their outstretched hands. you take the opportunity to dash out of the kennels and retreat into the lawn.

swallowing bile and your nerves, you press the call button next to his contact.

"hello?"

"hey, it-it's me from the shelter," you say, trying your best to keep your voice steady. "i-i know it's sudden and you're probably busy..."

"are you two okay? i'm on my way now." you barely hear the sound of him barking out orders and slamming a door, followed by the sound of explosives blasting.

"i-yes, we're okay...i think," you sputter out, the adrenaline in your veins turning to anxiety and leaving you just as shaken as the dog hiding beside you. "she-she bit a new guy. he's a fucking idiot but his parents are big investors in the shelter, so he's trying to get her put down." your voice breaks and you push down a sob, your hand barely able to hold the phone still. "i don't know what to do and they won't listen to me and i don't know how to tell them and-"

"it's okay, sweetheart, just breathe." his voice is calm and collected in stark contrast to the furious sounds of blasting propelling him toward the shelter.

"katsuki, i don't want them to take her away," you whisper helplessly, your eyes following the line of people approaching you in the yard. it's the first time you're addressing bakugo by his first name, and you wish it was under better circumstances. "they're coming to take her away. i don't-i don't want them to take her-"

"i'm here. stay where you are, i'll take care of them," he grunts before you hear the beep beep beep of the phone being hung up. true to his word, he reaches you before your coworkers and the security guards do, hopping a few fences as a shortcut. he slips in front of you like a shield, formidable and intimidating in his hero costume that he didn't have time to change out of.

"mr. bakugo, please stand aside," your boss says, giving you a sympathetic look. "we need to take the dog in for an evaluation."

"and then what?" bakugo's voice is harsh and unforgiving, his scowl unrelenting. "i said," he clarifies when the group in front of him is too shocked to answer, "and then what?"

"psychological evaluation will most likely show that she is unable to be adopted," your boss explains and you catch the muscle in bakugo's jaw clench. "in that case-"

"you're gonna put down a dog that lashed out in self-defense? against an idiot who didn't bother checking that she was male-averse?"

"t-the family is incredibly important to the maintenance of the shelter, and continuing to have the dog would jeopardize our working relationship."

"that's not a fuckin' problem, then, because i'm taking her home," he states. "daisy's comin' with me. end of story." you hear the words of protest climbing out of the group's throats and are quick to back up your partner.

"she's been working with him for half a year now," you interject. "there's no man she trusts more than him. and as the one who's been taking care of her for the time she's been here," you take a needed breath, nodding at bakugo, "there's no one else i trust more, either."

"you can tell the family the dog ran away or something. i'll get her out of your hands and have my legal people clean up your shit." sensing that it's time to go, you give him the leash and daisy nudges her head into his gloved hand. "and if that asshole who disrespected her wants to take away our fucking dog, i'd love to see him try."

"our dog?" you ask quietly, catching his eye as you walk with him out of the shelter complex.

"yeah," he shrugs, his ears turning slightly pinker. "we're a team, aren't we?"

---

"oh, nice. you know that asshole that daisy bit?" you're sprawled out on the living room couch in his apartment, daisy sleeping soundly at your feet. katsuki grunts his assent from the kitchen, muttering a curse as a splash of hot oil prickles his skin. "he and his family are getting investigated for money laundering and exotic animal trafficking."

"serves them fucking right," he replies vindictively. "what about the shelter?"

"coworkers report that they're doing just fine, what with the generous donation from the dynamight agency and all."

"any bigs they're tryna wrangle?"

"not at the moment, no," you say, peeking over the edge of the couch and smiling at daisy's tongue sticking out of her sleepy mouth. "but they promise they'll call us if one arrives."

"that's good. i'm happy with that," he concludes, throwing a potholder onto the coffee table and setting a sizzling pan of something yummy-smelling on top. "how's that look, partner?"

"as good as the one who made it," you flirt, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. "is the chef single?"

"nope," he remarks with a wink, settling his entire body weight on top of you so that his head rests on your chest. "and i wouldn't want anyone else." daisy pops her head up from the floor and shakes herself, happily licking your boyfriend's face as he squirms away. "okay, okay! you're an important part of my life as well, you silly fuckin' dog."

"you sure she'll be okay at work with you?" your fingers card through katsuki's hair and his eyes flutter shut, relishing in the way your nails feel on his scalp.

"'course she will. she passed the bomb-sniffing test with flying colors. she's smart and she's loyal. she'll do just fine," he reassures you. "and we couldn't have gotten here without you."

"you're the one who practically stole her from the shelter," you remind him teasingly and his laugh reverberates against your ribcage. "daisy," you cautioned as she looks hungrily at the pan of food. "that's not for you. dad'll make you something to eat later. go back to sleep, for now." the dog gives a single woof of reluctant acknowledgement before settling into her plush bed in the corner. "thank you, katsuki."

"you haven't even tried the food yet, you doofus," he mumbles with his eyes shut against your chest.

"i mean thank you for believing in her, doofus."

"duh. it's easy to believe in the people you love."

"people and dogs," you correct.

"mhmm," he smiles, content with the little family you'd helped him form, despite the obstacles. "and dogs."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

[kingdom-of-sins]

Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Sihtric and Uhtred's sister wants to get married but for that to happen they need Uhtred's blessing...which may not be so easy to get

The night air in Coccham is cool and filled with the chirping of crickets as you slip out of your quarters, your heart racing with anticipation. You’ve become adept at sneaking out to meet Sihtric, your secret love, in the secluded grove just beyond the village. As you approach, you see him waiting for you, a smile lighting up his face when he catches sight of you.

"There you are," he says softly, pulling you into his arms. "I was starting to worry."

"Sorry," you whisper, nuzzling into his chest. "Uhtred kept me longer than usual."

He chuckles, brushing a kiss against your forehead. "I have something for you." From behind his back, he produces a small bouquet of wildflowers, their petals vibrant even in the dim light.

You smile, touched by his gesture. "You always bring me the loveliest flowers."

"And you'll always wear them beautifully," he replies, tucking one into your long black hair. "They remind me of you."

You kiss him then, a soft brush of your lips that quickly deepens. His hands cradle your face, and you lose yourself in the warmth and passion of his embrace. Each stolen moment with Sihtric feels like a precious gift, every kiss a promise of your love.

Time seems to stand still as you hold each other, but all too soon, reality intrudes. "We can't stay long," Sihtric murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. "Uhtred will notice if we're both gone for too long."

You sigh, wishing you could stay wrapped in his arms forever. "I hate sneaking around like this. I wish we could be together openly."

"Me too," Sihtric says, determination in his voice. "And we will be. I'm going to talk to Uhtred. I'm going to ask for his blessing."

Your eyes widen in surprise and worry. "Are you sure? You know how protective he is."

"I know," he replies, his gaze steady. "But I love you. I want to be with you, openly and proudly."

The next morning, you watch nervously from a distance as Sihtric approaches Uhtred. Your brother's expression shifts from curiosity to shock as Sihtric speaks. You can't hear their conversation, but Uhtred's widening eyes and dropped jaw are enough to tell you it's not going entirely smoothly.

Later, Sihtric finds you, his expression a mix of hope and resignation. "He was… surprised," he says, trying to sound optimistic. "He asked for time to think about it."

"That's something, at least," you reply, squeezing his hand. "What else did he say?"

Sihtric hesitates. "He, uh, kind of told me to stay away from you for now."

Your heart sinks, but you refuse to give up. "I'm going to talk to him," you declare. "He needs to understand how much we love each other."

That evening, you corner Uhtred in his quarters. "Brother, we need to talk."

He looks up from his maps, raising an eyebrow. "About Sihtric, I presume?"

"Yes," you say, taking a deep breath. "I love him, Uhtred. He loves me. We want to be together, to get married. Please, give us your blessing."

Uhtred sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't realize… You've kept this well hidden."

"We had to," you reply softly. "But I don't want to hide anymore. Please, Uhtred."

After a long pause, Uhtred nods slowly. "I'll speak to Sihtric."

Later that night, Uhtred calls Sihtric into his quarters. "You know I'll kill you if you hurt her," he says gruffly, eyes hard.

"I know," Sihtric replies earnestly. "I'd never hurt her. I love her."

"Then you have my blessing," Uhtred says, his voice softening. "But remember, I'm always watching."

Sihtric can hardly contain his excitement as he rushes to find you. He sneaks into your quarters, grinning like a boy. "Uhtred gave his blessing," he whispers, pulling you into his arms.

Tears of joy fill your eyes as you kiss him, your heart bursting with happiness. "We can finally be together," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He kisses you again, deeply and passionately, his hands tangling in your long black hair. "I can't wait to marry you," he murmurs against your lips. "And I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

With Uhtred's blessing, you and Sihtric no longer have to hide your love. You walk hand in hand through Coccham, drawing smiles and curious looks from the people around. Sihtric brings you flowers every chance he gets, and you wear them proudly in your hair.

Your love is no longer a secret, and every day is filled with moments of joy and passion. You steal kisses in quiet corners, share whispered conversations late into the night, and dream of the life you'll build together.

Days pass, and the new dynamic becomes a part of everyday life. Yet, some things remain the same.

One afternoon, as you and Sihtric share a private moment in the kitchen, he gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. His gaze is soft, filled with love.

Uhtred walks in at that exact moment, catching sight of the tender exchange. He groans loudly, making a face. "Do you two ever stop?" he asks, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

You laugh, leaning into Sihtric. "Not if we can help it."

Uhtred shakes his head, muttering to himself as he leaves the room. "Just remember, Sihtric, I'm always watching!"

Sihtric chuckles, pulling you close. "I don't think he'll ever get used to it."

"Good," you reply with a mischievous grin.

And with that, you pull Sihtric into another kiss, knowing that no matter how many times Uhtred catches you, nothing can dim the happiness you feel in each other’s arms.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Love Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I did this because I could.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'You ready?' 

A tingle accompanies the text. Your stomach tosses and turns at the thought. You think you're ready. As ready as you can be. It's all so new to you. 

You hover your finger over the automated reply suggested by the OS. You tap on 'yes', too shaky to type it yourself. You're not scared, just nervous. 

When Andy first brought up the idea, you laughed. It was so absurd. Silly really. 

You remember how the look he gave you was like hands on your throat. The hurt with an edge of agitation strangled away your laughter. You apologised and asked him if you heard him right. Then he explained and it made sense. Kind of. 

'If we're going to get married, we need to keep the flame alive,' your fiance said as you stirred the contents of a pan with a spatula. 'Trust me, I know. A dead bedroom can kill everything else.' 

You frown at the memory. You hate when he mentions his first wife. He's engaged to you now. You're not her. Besides, things are pretty good. That's why you laughed. There was nothing bland to spice up. At least, you hadn't thought so. 

'You know the plan?' He texts. Always thorough, if not persistent. 

'I think' you type as you squeeze your phone tighter then think better of the reply. You backspace. Remember the plan. 'Yes, sir.' 

You blow out between your lip and put the phone on the counter. You look in the mirror and pick up the bottle of moisturizer, smearing it over your face. Half the day you've spent prepping yourself. Everything has to be perfect. Andy is always certain of that. 

You snap the cap shut and peruse the rest of the basket. He thought of everything. New soaps, wax, perfume, and all sorts of goodies. You didn't need it all but he insisted. 

Everything about Andy Barber is pristine and tidy. His house not least of his carefully curated existence. So it is that you often feel as if you don't quite fit it, even when he tells you the opposite. 

Your phone vibes and you look down at the screen as the notification flashes, 'good girl.' 

Your lashes bat and you giggle thinly. You've never done anything like this. You struggle to get a precise grip on the tweezers and have to still your hand with the other. This is wild! 

You rub your thighs together and strike hotter the flame of your anticipation. As much as the whole thing has you uncertain, it has you alight. You steady yourself and lean into the mirror, just a few stray hairs. It shouldn't matter, it'll be dark, right? 

Your phone goes again. You pull back and glance down. You trade the tweezers for the cell and press your lips together. 

'Did you find your surprise?' 

You look up and search your expression. Surprise? You lower your brow and peer around the bathroom. There's more? 

'Bedroom' his next message comes bluntly. 

You chew your lip and leave the mirror behind. You go down to the main bedroom and ease through the door. The room still smells of his cologne. The whole place is drenched in him, meanwhile most people wouldn't guess at a glance that you lived there too. 

You see it on the bed. White silk and lace. The lingerie is sheer enough that you may as well forego it. You near and touch the scalloped hem. You know it must be expensive, funny how so little fabric can be worth so much. 

You step back and take a picture. You send it to Andy and wait, your thumb between your teeth. He replies. 

'Put it on.' 

His blunt orders add to the thrum coursing through you already. It seems he's already in character. You need to get yourself together and do your part. 

'Yes, sir.' 

You set the phone on the corner of the mattress and trade your bathroom for the lingerie. The thong, while high-waisted has you on full display. Not ass, no crotch, just lace straps that trim your thighs and bottom. The top is an open teddy with cups that do nothing to censor your pert nipples. Just wearing it sends a thrill through you. 

You take the phone and return to the bathroom. You use the full-length mirror to frame your reflection with the lens. You snap a few pics and sift through for the best one. You hesitate before you tap the little arrow. You're a mess of paranoia and lust; you shouldn't send photos like this and yet you can't help yourself. 

You wait for his reply. Wait and wait and wait. You have to stop yourself from staring at the phone, knowing that your hyperfocus will only slow time. You cross to the counter and place the phone near the edge. 

Your attention is drawn to the sheer fabric acrosd your chest. You can't suppress the moan that leaks from you. You can feel how excited you already are but your eagerness might just get in the way of the whole thing. 

You sigh and the buzz draws you back from your anxiety. You read the message, almost disappointed. 

'Midnight.' 

That's it. That's all he has to say. Was the pic not good enough? Is this part of the roleplay? You don't know. 

As ever, Andy has you guessing at what he really wants. Hopefully this time, you get it right. 

💕

10:47pm. You’re wired. You’re trying to settle down. You have freshly laundered bedding and a glass of wine; all the perfect ingredients to lull you to sleep. That’s all you need to do. Fall asleep. 

Yet knowing what’s coming won’t let your mind stop. Ugh, your heart is racing again. You need to finish the wine. You push yourself up and have another gulp. You lay in the glow of your phone, a Get Ready With Me playing on low volume. Usually this all works. 

Not tonight. You’re too buzzy. Too frazzled. Too eager! 

You empty the glass and lay back down. You were generous, filling the wide body of the glass to the halfway point. At least two regular glasses worth.  

Your head meets the pillow and you start to feel it. The acidic burn spreads through your veins and you sink into the soft sheets. You turn your head to watch the small screen of your phone, vision slowly hazing as the contoured woman applies her lip liner expertly. 

Your eyelids cling and start to itch. Your heady is swishy, your tummy too, and your limbs weaken. It’s working. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to counteract the alcohol with your self-awareness. 

You roll onto your side and drift into a half-conscious daze. Your brain swirls and your blood burns hot. Your breathing slows and piques only when your rouse, glancing at your phone as a new video plays. The time stamps into your vision; 11:25. 

You curl your shoulders inward, more tired than anxious now, and slip back into your tipsy stupour. The screen is just a glow on the other side of your eyelids and the audio a scratch in your ears. It fades beneath the even ebb and flow of your quiet snores. 

As the light fades out and the sound dwindles to nothing but the still of night, you wake again. Your eyes open to the darkness. You’re alone. Confused. 

You feel around on the bed for your phone. It must have timed out or the battery died. You don’t find it. Instead, your wrist is trapped in a strong grip and dragged away from the duvet. You gasp and remember what’s going on. It’s starting. He’s there. 

“Ah, ah,” comes the grizzled tut as your other arm is seized and your hands are brought together above your head. 

Andy’s shadowy figure straddles you, pinning you to the mattress as you squirm. You let out a squeak and he hushes you. You still and arch your back, trying to push your chest up. 

“Please, who are you?” You whine, doing your best to play into the scenario. “Please, my husband will be home soon--” 

He shushes you again, holding your wrists together as he leans back to reach behind him. You can hardly see through the dark and your foggy tipsiness. The curtains have been drawn, obscuring the room to fuzzy lines and pulsing shadows. 

He hooks something around your arm; a leather cuff, then secures your other wrist. He keeps your arms up and reaches behind the mattress. He attaches the wring between the cuffs to some unseen hook. Where did that come from? 

You writhe as he stares down at you. You squint back at him, trying to see through the dim. Something feels off. He’s so quiet and forceful. It must be part of the roleplay but it just doesn’t feel like him. He feels like a stranger. 

He backs off of you, peeling back the duvet to drop it on the floor. He prowls along the foot of the bed and you kick your feet, whimpering as you strain against the cuffs. You keep forgetting it’s a game. You have to play your part too. 

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you beg. 

There’s no answer. Andy continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. He's really transformed. Where he would usually have his hands on his hips, he has them folded behind him, shoulders squared, his steps lighter. 

He stops and lets out a willowy rasp. He unzips his jacket, slipping off the sleeves slowly, deliberately. You lift your head as you try to see him clearer. Did he change? He must have dressed up too. 

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and huffs out again, a growl catching in his throat. He drops the shirt with his jacket and the duvet. Andy never leaves a garment outside the closet or hamper but this isn’t Andy, remember? This is an intruder! And you’re the helpless housewife. 

You nearly moan at the thought. Something about it is so hot even if it makes you a bit squidgy too. You tug again on your wrists as you hear his zipper slice through the din. 

“Please--” you beg. 

He kicks the footboard and the loud bang silences you. You can’t help the pathetic noise that trickles from your tongue and you swallow. He’s doing good. It feels so real. 

He continues to undress. Your heartbeat picks up as you wait for him to really start. He bends to pick something up then climbs over the footboard onto the bed. For a moment, you wince. His silhouette is slimmer. Or seems so. The difference is so minuscule it might be your wine-laced brain playing tricks. 

He catches your kicking feet and pushes your legs wide. He trails his hands up them, a piece of fabric tickling beneath his left palm, and firmly hooks them around him as he moves between them. He stops at your pelvis, his rigid length hovering over you. He stretches the black cloth across your eyes, blotting out what little sight you have. He knots the band behind your head and you gasp. 

He traces along your cheeks and your jawline, as if he can see you through the dark, as if he’s learning you by touch. His fingertips dance down your throat and across your shoulders. You feel fragile as he toys with the strap of the lingerie and feels along the flimsy cups, circling his thumbs around your nipples as they pebble beneath the sheer silk. 

He gropes you and growls. The noise is guttural and raw. It flutters into your core and has you twitching. He pushes his knees against your cunt, moving so the friction flurries in your clit. You babble and raise your chest, hungry for his touch. 

He flicks your nipples and his hands crawl onward, down your torso, doting on the soft flesh of your stomach, and framing your hips as he draws back on his knees. He snarls and bends over you, bowing as he grips you tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your folds. 

He nuzzles along the edges of the panties, growling as he does, squeezing your harder, then at once, buries his nose in your cunt. He wiggles his head and drags the tip of his nose up over your clit and swipes his tongue up to further set you aflame. You moan and curve your back, planting your heels as you urge him on. 

He delves into you, lapping and licking, suckling and swirling. His arm reaches up and he kneads your chest, blindly pulling the lingerie under one tis. He pinches as you cry out and he rolls your clit between his teeth. You puff out shallow breaths, swept up in the sensations. 

This is so different. Unlike he’s ever been before. He’s almost feral in how he touches you, how he feels you, how it seems he wants to consume you. There’s something else different, something strange you can’t place.  

Did he shave? You can’t tell, It must be the wine. His cheeks feel bare against your thighs and yet you swear you feel that scratchy tickle against your cunt. You don’t think about it; it’s all too much to focus. 

You squeal as you cum, spasming into his face as he drinks up your orgasm. You’re heaving and hollow as he doesn’t let up. He laps at you until you’re begging him to stop. Until you’re quaking, nearly sobbing in overwrought pleasure. Until you have a second, a third, and a fourth. 

Your slickness smears over his face and across your thighs. As he parts, his breath is humid, and you can smell the sweet scent of your release. You shiver as he raises himself up and the bed jostles. He snarls and slaps your thighs, squeezing until you whimper. 

He shifts and slides a hand under your leg. He flips you onto your stomach so your arms twist and your face is buried in the pillow. You pant into the linen as he smacks your ass with both hands and growls as he fondles you. You murmur as his touch sends tendrils down your legs and up your back. 

He grips your hips once more and raises your ass. Oh my god. It’s only a few times you’ve done it like this, often Andy prefers you on your back. He says he likes to see you.  

He pulls you back against him, his length resting between your cheeks as he bends over you. He inhales the scent of your hair and snarls against your crown. He reaches down to feel between your legs, spreading your swollen cunt as he angles his hips. 

His tip slips down and he uses his fingertips to guide it to your entrance. You’re so wet he slips right in. He sounds just as surprised as he gasps. He sinks into your limit and you whine. He retracts his arm, hooking it around your neck, and thrusts. 

You squeal as he buries himself even deeper. He does it again; harder. It hurts. You croak and press your chin down into his arm. You feel a ripple of fear. His chest feels... bare. Andy has that trim of fur that you like to play with. Maybe he got rid of it? For the roleplay? 

He snaps his hips again, staying deep before slowly rearing back. He pauses, then bucks again. The impact of his pelvis on your ass is painful and he’s hitting your cervix. 

“Ow, Andy--” 

“Quiet,” he grits in a deep sneer and brings his other hand up to smother your mouth. 

He leans his weight on you, your neck and shoulders aching from the angle of your spine. He dips into you again, again, again. Each pause between grows shorter as he tilts into a full rut. The entire bed shakes with his motion. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers into your palms, the cuffs slowing your circulation. You huff into his hand as he continues his rampant fucking, skin slapping, bones aching. Harder, deeper, faster, until you’re delirious. 

“What’s your husband going to think when he comes home to his wife being fucked like a slut?” He rasps and nibbles your ear, “huh? How’s he gonna compare to this, baby? Your husband can’t fuck like me can he?”  

He taunts and you cringe. You don’t like it anymore. It’s not fun. You don’t want him to be this man. To be this rough and rude. You want him to be Andy. You try to say his name again but only taste the salt of his palm. 

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he sinks into his limit and stays there, his voice echoing in your head. His tone is just... off. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - So High School

Requested: nope

Swift Series

Warnings: low-key sad at the end

Lando Norris lay comfortably on the bed, propped up on his side, his fingers gently tracing random shapes on his girlfriend Y/n’s back. The room was softly lit, creating a warm, cozy atmosphere. Y/n was sitting up, crouched over the 'bedside piano' as Lando called it. It was simply a small piano she had for quick ideas. She held a notebook and pen in hand as she sang along and scribbled down lyrics. "I feel so high school-" She paused, tapping the pen off of her notepad. "So high school, thinking we were cool- no." She mumbled, scribbling the line out, before humming again to find the right words. "No, that's not it."

Lando watched her, a soft smile playing on his lips as he admired her dedication. "What about 'thinking we ruled the school'?" He suggested, his voice low and tender. Y/n turned slightly, glancing at him with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm, maybe. That could work." She jotted down the suggestion and sang the line again. "So high school, thinking we ruled the school-" She shook her head again. "No, not that either." Y/n sighed, flipping the page to see the part she wrote before. "Get my car door, isn't that sweet? Then you pull me to the backseat. You know how to make my heartbeat, don't you?" She showed Lando. "Do you think this line would be better or this one?" He read them both, shrugging. "I don't know, babe. You're the artist."

"Well how about, 'No one's ever had me, not like you'? How's that sound?" Lando jutted his lip out. "Sing it for me." She hummed along, tapping the piano keys gently. "I like it." He smiled. Lando continued tracing shapes, now more intricate patterns as he listened to her sing. Her voice was melodic, full of passion and creativity. She sang a few more lines, occasionally stopping to tweak a word or a phrase, her brow furrowed in concentration.

After a while, she picked up her camera, ready to record a demo. She set it up on the nightstand, making sure it captured her, her 'bedside piano' and the notebook. As she began to sing, Lando slowly stopped drawing the shapes, his focus instead fixed on her with an expression of pure adoration. Y/n sang the chorus with confidence, her voice filling the room. "Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game but really, I'm betting on all three, for us two. Get my car door, isn't that sweet? So pull me to the backseat. No one's ever had me, not like you."

Lando watched in awe as she poured her heart into the song, his admiration for her evident in his eyes. He felt a rush of pride and love, unable to look away from her radiant presence. When she finished the song, she stopped the recording and reached for the camera to play it back. As the video played, she noticed Lando’s reflection in the screen, his eyes filled with affection and wonder as he watched her sing.

She turned to him, her heart swelling with emotion. "You really love watching me, don't you?" Lando smiled, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I do. Biggest fan." Y/n leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. "How about I give my biggest fan a private show, then?" He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her as they lay back on the bed. "Yes please."

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

Months had passed since the breakup with Lando. Their lives, once intertwined so beautifully, had drifted apart under the pressures of their respective careers and personal differences. It had been a painful decision, one that still tugged at her heart despite the passage of time.

Y/n sat at a press event, zoning in and out of thoughts as the room buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Fans and reporters filled the space, eager to ask her questions about her new album. She smiled, fielding questions with grace and enthusiasm. "So yeah, that's why I chose to name the album The Tortured Poets Department." She smiled, looking around for other question. Her eyes fell to a young girl in the front. Her hand had been up for a while, so she figured why not? "Yes, yourself?" Y/n said. The fan stood up, holding the microphone. "Hi, Y/n. I'm a huge fan, I have been looking forward to this album for months. Y/n's face beamed upon hearing her words. "Lostening to the album, one song really stuck out to me that I loved, do my question is; what inspired 'So High School'?" Y/n's smile faltered for a brief second, memories of late-night songwriting sessions with Lando flooding her mind.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before answering. "It's about reminiscing on young love and the emotions that come with it. It's a reflection of a time when everything felt so intense and real." The fan nodded, satisfied with the answer, but Y/n could see the follow-up question forming in her eyes. "Was there a specific person or moment that inspired it?" Y/n hesitated, her heart aching at the thought of Lando. She chose her words carefully, masking the sadness that threatened to surface. "There were many moments and people who inspired the song. It's a mix of different experiences from my life."

As the event continued, Y/n maintained her cheerful demeanor, but inside, she felt the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. After the last question, she excused herself and slipped backstage, needing a moment to gather herself. She found a quiet corner and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. The memory of Lando's adoring gaze as she sang the demo played in her mind, a bittersweet reminder of what they once had. She missed him, missed the way he believed in her, missed the warmth of his touch. But she also knew that their paths had seperatrd for a reason. She had grown, both as an artist and as a person, and she hoped he had found happiness too.

Y/n straightened up, taking a deep breath. She wiped away the single tear that had escaped and put on a brave face. She had a career to focus on, fans who looked up to her, and a future that still held promise. As she stepped back into the bustling event, she reminded herself of the journey ahead. The past was a part of her, but it didn't define her. She would carry the memories with her, using them to fuel her music and inspire others. And that somewhere, she hoped, Lando was watching her with that same look of awe, proud of the woman she had become.

[sophrosynesworld]

With all my love, pt. 3

Part 3 is finally here and *gasp* lore?!

Do you know how hard it is to escape your top 5 pro-hero ex-boyfriend? His voice plays on my radio during my commute. His image is plastered across the news in the lobby this morning before lunch—he’s acting irrationally again. He’s always been too much of a hothead.

His recent heroic deeds have garnered both admiration and scrutiny. My departure seems to have affected him, causing some of his harsher traits to resurface. I never anticipated that he would notice, let alone react like this.

"I don't care if he's a jerk. Dynamite is one of the best heroes of this generation," I overhear one of the news anchors saying. The radio in the small restaurant makes it hard to miss.

"Dynamite is one bad decision away from killing someone," the woman says, clearly frustrated with her cohost. "I don't even know if it would be on accident."

"He has saved more people this year than Deku. How is that not a hero?" the cohost argues back.

"He's also cost this city thousands of man-hours repairing the damage his blasts created."

I set my tablet down, trying to push their argument out of my head. The familiar chime of bells rings, drawing my gaze to the doorway.

A redhead stands there, his eyes scanning the restaurant until they find mine. His face softens as he makes his way over, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me.

"You look good today," he says warmly. "Changed your hair?"

"No, but I did change my relationship status." I roll my eyes at his attempt at small talk. I know my ex-boyfriend's best friend didn’t just call me up to chat.

He chuckles, a sound out of place given the tension. “Look, I know things have been rough for you.”

“Rough? That’s putting it mildly.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I want to help. He’s worried about you, you know.”

I sigh, glancing at the drawing in front of me. “He wasn’t worried when I was crying myself to sleep.”

“I get it,” he says softly. “But he’s struggling too. The hero life isn’t as glamorous as it seems. You know that better than anyone.” My heart skips a beat at the reminder of my early retirement. “The constant pressure, the expectations... it’s taking a toll on him.”

I look up, meeting his eyes. They hold sincerity, a genuine concern I hadn’t expected. “What do you want from me?” I whisper.

“Talk to him. Just once. Hear him out. You both deserve that closure.”

I lean back, the weight of his words settling over me.

“Fine,” I say after a long pause. “I’ll talk to him. But this doesn’t mean anything beyond that.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s all I’m asking. Thank you.”

He settles back into his chair and picks up the menu. "Why don't we order something?"

I nod, grateful for the change in topic. "Sure. I hear their ramen is amazing."

We browse the menu, tension easing as we focus on the food. The waitress comes by, and we place our orders—spicy miso ramen for me, tonkotsu ramen for him.

As we wait, the restaurant buzzes with lunchtime chatter. Clinking utensils, humming conversations, and occasional laughter create a comforting atmosphere. It feels almost normal, a brief break from the chaos.

“So,” he says, breaking the silence, “how’s work? Still drawing those amazing designs?”

I smile, appreciating his interest. “Yeah, hectic, but I’m managing. Deadlines are killer, though.” He laughs as our waitress places two bowls in front of us.

“I can imagine. But your work is worth it. You’ve got talent, always have.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling more at ease. “How about you? How’s hero life?”

“It’s... a lot,” he admits, mouth full of food. He swallows. “But it’s worth it, knowing we’re making a difference." I hum in agreement, tasting my food. The flavorful broth dances across my tongue, making me do an unconscious happy dance.

"We really do miss you though," Kiri says, his voice trailing off as he scratches his neck. I feel a pang of remembrance. I've never stopped missing being a hero. I hate not being able to work with my best friends.

"I don't get a retirement package as a hero," I reply, forcing a smile to mask my heartache. But it's clear my facade fails as regret fills Kiri's eyes. Apologies spill from his lips, but I don't listen. Instead, I reach out and gently place my hand on his for a brief moment.

"Eijiro, I promise you I've moved on. I don't blame anyone for what happened," I assure him, pushing another smile onto my face. "I got over that a long time ago."

I withdraw my hand and continue to eat, the conversation flowing more easily after a few moments. We reminisce about our days at UA, share laughs about our coworkers, and for a while, it feels like old times.

By the time we finish, I feel lighter, the past weeks’ weight lifting slightly. It’s not a solution, but it’s a start.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he says as we stand to leave. “and for agreeing to talk to him.”

I nod, a sense of anticipation blooming. “We’ll see how it goes.”

As we step out into the city’s noise, I unblock his number from my phone and watch in horror as hundreds of missed messages flood my phone screen.

[thesunshinecourts]

five curiosities for the next book, after reading the sunshine court

a non-exhaustive list, but five things i'm curious to (hopefully) find out more about in TSC2, or that i have questions about still:

what happened at the trojans' fall banquet (presumably jeremy's first year)? it's a Scandal, and jeremy cannot stand to be around bryson, and annalise has never forgiven him for sticking with exy after that, despite having attended all his games in high school. given the allusions to his stepfather, and also his step-grandfather being a congressman, i can see how jeremy's sexuality might be relevant to the situation—especially if we read into lucas' stiff apology and shame at his implication about jeremy and jean as being born from more than just common decency, but rather knowledge of this being a previous sticking point in terms of jeremy's scandals—but i also keep thinking about what cat said. jeremy has—three. two brothers, one sister. the way she says it, how it sticks out to jean as an odd switch, and the fact that we've only met two siblings – it makes me wonder what happened to the third. or if that's even the right question to ask, regarding jeremy's siblings.

elodie. i'm curious if we learn anything about what happened—by and large, i kinda hope not, if only because then jean has to too, unless it turns out stuart is lying, but that's a very different kind of fallout. (i don't actively theorise he is—at some point, these kids will run out of tolerance for ghost stories coming back to life—but i think its possibility ought to be considered, at least). i think we'll get more flashes of her from jean's thoughts, though, and i anticipate lots of heartbreak lmao

lucas. assuming stuart's contact comes through, and neil's hit goes ahead, we've got lucas in the aftermath of finding out his brother is a monster, and jean saying not to call the police, and then possibly his brother being dead. if it happens any other day—if it happens in west virginia, especially—i suspect lucas might be able to look at it like another domino in the ravens machine falling down, or even that something horrible happened to him when he returned home, but if it's still in LA, after what he did to jean, after jean said no cops-------i can see how that might twist into something more suspicious. who knows! i'm curious to see what happens there. grayson is a monster, but he is still lucas' brother. aaron and kevin still have complicated grief about tilda and riko, and they were their direct, constant abusers; cass never learned until after the fact, and lucas is in a complex space between the two parts of that spectrum. if grayson dies, i think the fallout will be unavoidable for exploration

this is a small one but man, i just want to keep seeing jean's list grow. it tears something out of me every time, and stitches me back together, and i want to go through that over and over, because i want to see a jean who not only hears that his life is his and worth living, but a jean who learns to believe it too

i'm just kinda assuming we see the foxes again, because i remember nora's character list having new details about characters who didn't show up in this one, but i'm also quietly hoping for more thea. their scene made me ache, and he'd never had good defenses against thea, and kevin knew that. jean would kill him for bringing her here made my heart do the !! double-tap. i'm extremely invested in jean, thea and kevin as a unit, and it would be so incredibly wonderful to see more

[seeingivy]

my love, mine all mine

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: HEAVVVYYYYY ANGST. does contain one part where a man is being icky/hitting on a girl in a gross way. viewer discretion advised. protect your peace.

an: ok yall. chapter is named after a mitski song we know it's not good. don't hang me at the stake now.

songs mentioned: my love, mine all mine by mitski

previous part linked here

--

“This is disgusting.” you mutter, as Armin leans over and takes a picture from what might literally be the worst angle ever. 

Connie Springer, human menace, has been sleeping on your shoulder for a majority of the flight to Seattle. And drooling on your hair in the process. You make a mental note to kick his ass when he wakes up for being responsible for the globbed up hair you'll have when you see Eren again. 

“He’s been sleeping for almost the entire flight. And he slept all day before the engagement too.” Armin murmurs, flicking the picture in between his fingers as he waits for it to develop. 

“Typical.” you respond, readjusting so his head falls on your shoulder more comfortably. 

You lean your head against his as he continues to snore against your shoulder, the desperation, the anticipation of what you’re going to do sitting heavy in your head. You’ve run through it a hundred times, the words stringing together in your head. 

You’re staying with Eren for the weekend. His birthday falls at the end, but he’s too busy to see you guys, so you’ll take him out the day after. 

After making ten very aggressive phone calls to the Seattle Aquarium and throwing a nice amount of money their way, they agreed to close off the aquarium for the weekend, so that you and Eren could have it all to yourself. 

So that you could drag him there after he was finished on set and lie down flat on the cold floors to just watch the fish swim above you. So no one else is there when you tell Eren that you still love him, so you’re both surrounded in your own little fishbowl. So that he understands you never did stop loving him. That you won’t ever. 

You pause. The guilt sits deep in your stomach, eats at the smallest parts of your conscience and corrupts it. The desperation, the anticipation - it sits heavy in your mind. But the doubt, the guilt, and the anxiety does too. 

You either get to have Eren forever or you lose him for good. Because Eren is dating another girl and it comes down to something really simple. 

If he likes her more or you. 

“You okay?” 

You look over at Armin and his perceptive blue eyes are peering into yours, his forehead scrunched up near his hairline. 

“I-I have a dilemma, Armin.” 

“Do tell.” he responds, propping his elbow against the armrest and leaning his cheek on his hand. 

“I….I want to do something. But it could hurt someone.” 

He frowns, squinting his eyes at you in confusion. 

“I feel a certain type of way. And I want to tell someone. But being honest means I could hurt someone else. Sh-should I still do it?” you ask, cracking your knuckles between your fingers. 

“Will it hurt you if you won’t say it?” Armin asks. 

Yes. 

It’ll hurt you if Eren goes on thinking that you don’t love him the way you do. That walking away from him wasn’t the biggest mistake of your life. That him pulling away kills you, because all you want to do is keep him close. 

You can’t keep it all in, regardless of what the outcome will be. And for all it’s worth, you have the feeling that when you’ll see him, it’ll get the better of you, that it’ll be a matter of when you tell him, not if. 

“Yes. I-I don’t think I can keep it in Armin. I’ve been sitting on it for a while.” 

He brings his hand down on yours and squeezes. And then his blue eyes are shimmering, in the pale fluorescents of the plane lights, and you can’t help but smile back. It’s surging through you - the want, the need, the love you hold for him. 

And there’s only three more hours till you’re there. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally telling Eren you still love him.” he asks, so nonchalantly as he slides the picture of you and Connie, fully developed, into his wallet as he turns back to you.

“Am-am I that obvious?” 

“I mean. You feel a type of certain way? We’re going to see Eren? It wasn’t that hard to piece together.” 

“No. You’re just perceptive.” 

Armin brings his hand down on yours again, squeezing hard, as he smiles at you - so bright and cheery that it makes you excited. 

“God, ‘Min. Why are you so excited? You’re kind of supporting me being a homewrecker right now.” 

“I-I don’t know. Hyla, I’m sure she’s great and all, but I just don’t think she fares up well to what Eren needs. Not like you do.” 

You can feel your cheeks burning at his admission, the compliment and the implication solidifying in your mind. That Armin, Eren’s best friend, thinks it should be you. That you’re good for him. He’s quiet for a few minutes, sliding through the pictures of Jean and Mikasa - the one’s she posted of Jean and her hugging on the ground, minutes after he proposed. Equipped with a caption, that brings you to tears. 

the one place i’ll always find myself returning. jeanboy, it’s you and me always. 

“What do you think love is, Y/N?” 

“That’s such a loaded question to ask me on a dingy ass flight to Seattle, Armin.” you deadpan. 

“No, no. Just think. What is it?” 

You rack your brain, long and hard. And they all come to mind - your parents, Falco and Colt, Eren, Jean and Mikasa, Levi and Hange. 

Levi and Hange. The love letters Levi wrote to Hange, that he gave you when you wrote invisible string for the vow renewal. Maybe the first time you figured out what love might mean. That it was sharing every little part of yourself and every feeling you’ve had - ecstatic, overwhelmed, happy, sad, bored, and soft. 

“Knowing each other. Love is knowing each other, Armin. And-he’s pulling away. I-I don’t want him to leave because there’s still so much more of him I-I don’t know yet. I could have a lifetime and it still wouldn’t be enough.” you murmur. 

He smiles, leaning his head against yours, as he talks again, his soft voice murmuring into your hair. 

“Eren’s known one thing since he met you. And it’s that he wants you around, wants to know more of you, that you’re the best person he’s met. He picked you to be his co-star, called you almost everyday he wasn’t with you, ran into my room and talked to me what it was like to kiss you after you guys wrote New Year’s day, you’re just it for-” 

“Wait, what? He did what?” 

“Huh? What part?” 

“The New Year’s Day thing. You-you knew that we kissed?” 

“Yeah. He told me and Marco, like fully woke us up. Said that you guys were practicing the kiss after you wrote the song and that we both needed to kiss someone immediately so we could understand how he felt.” 

You snort. 

“I don’t remember it being that way. I like totally froze up when he kissed me the first time. We-we had to do it a few times to get it right.” 

“Well, it’s always been you for Eren. I bet you could aim wrong and he’d still come and talk about how kissing you is divine.” 

“Divine?” 

He freezes up, eyes wide, as he realizes his choice of words. 

“Armin. Did Eren say kissing me was divine?” 

“No. No- we don’t talk about that stuff. It’s- long story, you-you don’t want to know.” 

“No. No, now you have to tell me. We’ve known each other forever, it’s-it’s not weird. Quit being all shy.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Armin! Please. We-I want to know. Please, I won’t tell him and I won’t think much of it.” 

“Okay, well. When I started dating Annie, you and Eren had already been together for like a year. And I wanted…to know how to…” 

“To?” 

“Have sex.” he murmurs. 

You bite down on your lip to avoid laughing and he turns his face, cheeks glowing pink, as he whispers profanities at you. 

“You’re so rude. I’m not talking about this.” 

“No, no! Armin, you’re just so cute.” 

“Quit calling me cute.” 

“Sorry! It’s just. You and Eren are so sweet, you’re like brothers. Giggling like little high schoolers about sex.” 

“We were highschoolers. And you’re acting like you and Mikasa are any different.” 

“Yeah! But you guys know we do that, I just never thought you and Eren talked about this stuff. So what did he say?” 

“No. This is breaking bro code. I’m not telling you.” 

“Armin! Please! You brought it up now it’s going to bother me forever. And-and you and me. We’re cool like that. We can talk about sex because we’re two grown adults.” 

“Y/N.” he responds, in a warning tone. 

“Pretty please! I’ve always wondered what Eren thinks about me because he-he’s so reserved and-and it’ll help me. When I tell him, to-to know how he felt about me. Help me not back out.” 

“You’re annoying. You-you can’t just use that against me to get me to tell you.” 

“Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

He groans, leaning his head against the chair, and clenches his jaw. And then Armin’s turning his head, voice all quiet as he whispers. 

“You tell another soul and I will kill you.” 

“Okay, okay. I promise ‘Min.” 

“I-I asked him about it. Because Annie and I were going to….I wanted to make it special. And-and I’m not the type to really, really take initiative when Annie does it first but I-I wanted to.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And then I asked him, like. What it’s supposed to feel like. Having sex for the first time. Because, I mean. Isn’t it awkward? And I had heard it hurts for the girl so-” 

“I’m trying not to like bite down on my own hand right now. You’re like a little angel.” you coo. 

“Shut up. Anyways, Eren said that the first time he-he felt bad. Because it did hurt you and that he just held you after till you felt better. But the second time, he said it was like nothing he ever felt before. That he understood why people do a bunch of stupid shit when they’re in love because it feels divine.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Armin. He-” 

“You’re it for him. I hope I got that through your head. Now just go tell him. And quit making me tell you secrets, you’re breaking every sacred code I have as a man right now.” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess with your divine brotherhood.” 

He flicks the top of your head as you link your arm with his and squeeze hard. And flutter your eyes shut, with him on your mind. 

--

“Connie.” 

You reach forward and shake his shoulder, as aggressively as you can, in the back of the car. 

“Connie.” 

He’s slumped over against the window, fast asleep, despite the fact that he slept nearly the entire way here. 

“CONNIE.” 

“Huh?” 

His eyes flutter open, deeply filled with sleep as he registers where he is, holding his hand out to grab you. 

“Con. We’re here. And why the fuck are you so tired?” 

“Shhh.” he responds, pressing his finger to your lips as he tumbles out of the car, leaning the majority of his body weight on you as you both walk towards the house. 

Not Eren’s house, the one you stayed at when Ricky locked you out, but the townhouse on set since Connie needed to be back as soon as possible. You switch positions with Armin, him taking the responsibility of lugging Connie, as you both walk up to the door. 

You nervously reach up to brush the tangles out of your hair and rub the tiredness out of your eyes as you knock on the door, putting on your best smile. 

Eren. 

Or not. The door swings open and a short girl answers, a bored look on her face and a martini glass secured in her hand. Despite the cold weather, she’s dressed up in a mini skirt and her hair is all clipped up in rollers - clearly from a makeup team by the way they’re placed. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Um. I’m Y/N.” 

“Okay?”

“I mean. We’re here to bring Connie back. He-he’s supposed to start filming again today. And we’re visiting for Eren’s birthday.” 

“Oh. Okay fine.” 

She swings the door open as you and Armin hold Connie upright, loose greetings falling out of his mouth as he waves at the twenty people that are in the room, their names falling out of his mouth. They’re all lounging around on the sofas and in the kitchen, heads pushed together in their own conversations or on their phones. 

“Connie. We-where are you supposed to go?” 

“Uh. Right. We-we can just go to my room.” 

He drags you and Armin up the stairs, even more people crowding the area, as you shuffle past and make your way up. Connie shoves you both into his room, the two of you falling on his sofa, as you watch him shut himself in the bathroom immediately. 

“Should we try to find Eren maybe? I think Connie’s like sick or something.” you whisper. 

“Yeah. But it might take a while, there’s like sixty people in here.” 

“I don’t understand how anyone lives here. Lana and Eren staying in a house off set makes way more sense now.” you respond, as Armin pulls you up and you drag yourself through the halls. 

You both amble down, observing the mess all around, as you read the names on the doors. You’re both holding hands, hard, so you don’t lose each other in the bustle of people and the sweat hanging in the air. And nearly six paces down, you find the door with Eren’s name scribbled across the door. Armin lightly knocks as you both peek your heads in, to find Hyla - fast asleep in his bed.

You swallow hard, pushing hard on Armin’s hand, as you both quietly shut the door behind you and walk back down the hallway. 

She’s sleeping in his bed. 

“Let’s just see if anyone knows where he is, yeah?” 

You nod and both push down the hallway again to the crowded room you entered in, nervously watching the swarm of people in front of you and nitpicking on which one to ask. Despite the chill in the Seattle air outside, the inside here is sweltering - the mix of people certainly being a fire hazard and responsible for the itching warmth in the room. 

One of the girls, lazily leaning over the counter, beckons for the two of you to join her, which you awkwardly accept. 

“Who are you guys?” 

“I’m Armin. And this is Y/N. We’re friends of Eren’s, we were looking for him. Is he around?” 

“Ah. Eren and Lana are probably busy with the Bear.” she says, turning her shoulder and snickering with the people around them. 

The bear?

“Well. We’re going to his birthday dinner tonight. You guys can see him then, the bus leaves at like six.” she mutters, shuffling off to the other side of the house and walking away. 

“Okay. Thanks.” you respond, awkwardly rubbing your hands against your arms and turning to Armin. 

Right on cue, loud music starts blaring overhead and you and Armin instinctively reach to cover your ears, Armin signaling that the two of you should just go outside. You both leave the sticky, hot room and walk out, kicking the rocks as the music blares on inside. 

“God. Levi would have an aneurysm if we ever did something like that to the townhouse.” you mutter. 

“I think I had an aneurysm standing in there.” 

“What should we do?” 

“It’s only four thirty. Let’s just…walk and get coffee. It’ll be six by the time that we’re back and we can meet him at dinner.” 

“Okay. Sure.” 

--

Two hours later and you’re seated at the most awkward table, in the history of awkward tables. Maybe even more awkward than the thought of the Thirteenth Disciple of Jesus, Ryomen Sukuna, being at the Last Supper. 

You and Armin are across from the two empty seats - because Lana and Eren are late. Armin’s stuck next to a weirdly rowdy crowd of people, with Connie at the center, who suddenly has a random burst of energy and has been screaming for a better part of the last hour. And on your left, you’re stuck next to Hyla and Myka, who are way too inquisitive for your liking. 

“So like. Can I ask you a question?” Myka asks, leaning into your space. 

You shake the glass of water in your hands, perspiration leaking down your elbow, as you give her a nod. You nervously twiddle with the straw in your mouth, biting it into oblivion as she starts talking. 

“So. I listened to dorothea. And then I listened to lacy. And I was just wondering what happened between you and Historia? Because your song was really sweet but she makes you look like a bitch.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Ah. I don’t know, we used to be really close when we were younger and filming Attack on Titan together and stuff. I think we just grew apart. And-you know. Songs are more about their meanings, I-I don’t think lacy is about me and dorothea isn’t necessarily about her.” 

“Okay but like. What actually happened? Don’t like beat around the bush.” Hyla states, her tone biting as she swirls her own straw through her glass. 

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard her talk, with your own ears. Seen her with your own eyes and interacted with her in the flesh. 

She’s scary. Freakishly high cheekbones, slicked back hair, and siren like eyes that pull back to her hairline. A pointed nose, a sharp jaw - and unlike Lana, there are no soft features, no soft expressions to offset the harshness on her face. 

“She obviously doesn’t like you. And honestly, it’s fucked that she projects onto you so hard. If she wants to be successful, she should just work harder.” Myka states. 

“Historia’s busy, Myka. Got other things on her mind.” she states, making a snipping motion with her fingers. 

“Sorry, what?” you ask. 

“Oh, you know. Scissoring. Because she’s gay.” Hyla states, the ice in her glass clinking against the straw. 

You freeze. And swallow hard to think hard on what to say next. 

A topic that you don’t personally broach, and never have, but one people can’t seem to stop talking about. 

Maybe you’ve had your suspicions. And you push them down and let Historia be. The longing glances at Ymir when she was putting on her harnesses, the way they were attached at the hip - entirely different than the way you and Mikasa were and more like how you and Eren were. 

People suspected. It was a hot topic of conversation, especially after Lacy dropped and the people thought the lyrics were…homoerotic. People were stuck trying to figure out if Historia wanted to be you or date you. 

You don’t comment on that. She’s entitled to whatever she is and trying to figure it out for her does her no service. 

“So what are you going to order?” Myka asks, leaning over to look at the menu. 

“Probably the spicy brisket ramen?” 

“Ugh. Ramen has so much sodium. That’s how you get fat arms.” she mutters, flipping her eyes through her own menu. 

You swallow hard as you shove your face into your own menu this time, probably drawing blood on Armin’s ankle by the way you’re jamming your leg on his foot. He lifts his own menu as well, the two of you whispering behind them. 

“This is what my worst nightmares look like.” you whisper. 

“If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’re leaving.” Armin responds, giving you a nod. 

You both drop your menus to find Hyla staring at you two weird, which you two return with less than peachy smiles and lift your glasses to drink together. And right on cue, Eren and Lana are speed walking to the table from the entrance of the restaurant, absorbed in their own conversation. 

Lana takes the seat across from Armin and Eren takes the one across from yours - Lana’s eyes bulging out of her head when she sees the two of you while Eren’s too absorbed in the conversation he’s having with Hyla. 

“Ok, I’m here. Quit whining.” he says, leaning his hand against the back of Hyla’s chair. 

“Only you would be late to your birthday dinner, Eren.” she responds, giving him a smile as she leans forward to kiss his cheek. 

“My birthday is tomorrow, so technically, I’m early.” he responds. 

Lana elbows Eren in the side, which he rolls his eyes at before turning his head back to Hyla, who's pointing at the menu. 

“Eren.” Lana repeats.

“Huh? What?” 

He lifts Lana’s drink on instinct and takes a sip, putting it down as he glares at her. 

“It’s non-alcoholic. Calm down, Lana.” 

“No. Eren.” she responds, grating her teeth as she gestures her eyes over to you. 

And then Eren looks over, his eyes bulging out of his head this time when he sees you. Except his shock goes farther than Lana’s because when he moves his hand off Hyla’s shoulder, he accidentally knocks his glass across the table, the cold liquid drenching the front of your shirt and your skirt. 

“Jesus, Eren. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Myka asks, snickering as she looks down at you. 

Armin’s quick to respond, yanking his jacket off and placing it on your lap, drying the wetness on your legs as Eren stares at the two of you and then immediately turns to look at Lana. 

“Y/N. Armin. What are you guys doing here?” he asks, jaw clenched against his skull. 

“They’re surprising you for your birthday. Such sweet childhood friends you have.” Hyla says, giving the two of you a sickly sweet smile. 

“Um. I-I’m going to go to the bathroom, my clothes are really wet.” you mutter, beckoning Armin to stay as you quickly speed walk to the bathroom with his jacket wrapped around you. 

The second you make it into the bathroom, you shut the closest stall shut and lock the door, hanging Armin’s mostly dry jacket on the ring as you survey the damage. Eren’s drink - bright blue in color - has left a big mark on the front of your white shirt, but is virtually invisible on the black pleats of your skirt. 

You instinctively grab for the tissues and wipe down the front of your shirt, which only makes the stain worse. And you don’t know why - why this entire thing is so humiliating, but you can feel tears burning in your eyes and your throat itching with insurmountable heat - as the stain doesn’t lessen, the blue splotch staying. 

The door swings open and you hear an immediate knock on your door, shiny black shoes visible from underneath the stall. 

“Hey Tinky-Winky. You okay?” Lana whispers, her voice soft as she leans her head against the door. 

“Y-yeah. Just, um. Trying to get the stain out, that’s all. I’ll just wear Armin’s jacket.” 

“Okay. I-I’m waiting for you out here when you’re done, okay?” 

You lift your head to the ceiling, hoping that it’ll push the flaming tears back into your eye sockets as you try to quiet your sniffles and shove Armin’s black denim jacket over your clothes. You open the door to find Lana, sweet Lana, leaning against the door with a smile on her face. 

She looks different. Her cheeks are fuller and rosy pink, her short hair growing out to her shoulders. And you don’t miss the soft bags around her eyes, the tiredness sitting in her frame. She opens up her arms, which you quickly sink into, her hands in your hair. 

“I missed you.” 

“Yeah. I missed you too, La-La.” 

She pulls back, her arms resting against your elbows as she talks. 

“What are you guys doing here?” 

“Surprising Eren for his birthday. We-we missed him.” 

She brings her hand to your cheek, cupping your face. 

“He misses you too. Lots.” she says, giving you a smile. 

You give her a smile back as you wrap your arms around her neck, breathing in her sweet flowery smell, as the door swings open again, only for Eren to be leaning against the door frame. You pull back and look at him - brown hair, green eyes, and no smile - staring back at you. 

“Y/N. You-you’re okay?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. 

“Yeah. Hi Eren. H-happy birthday.”

He breaks a smile - the first one you’ve seen today - and opens up his arms, wrapping them around your frame as he leans down, lips close to your ear. His right hand is firm on your back and the second one is cradling the back of your head, firm around your locks of hair. 

“It’s tomorrow.” 

“I know that, Eren.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. No need to show off.” 

At the sound of your nickname, you’re only wrapping your arms around his neck harder, standing on the tips of your toes, in any attempt to be closer to him. His smooth, laundry smell, his skin soft to the touch, and his hair perfectly tousled against your hands. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm, Eren?” 

“As much as I like holding you, I am technically trespassing in a women’s restroom right now. I just wanted to see if you were okay.” 

You pull back, nervously reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears as you nod, giving the two of them a look. 

“Okay so. I’ll go first. Lana, come out like five minutes after. Eren, give it like seven. Not ten, because the timing would be suspiciously perfect.” 

Eren squints his hand at you, his forearms clutched across his chest, as he glares. 

“Or we could all go back together.” 

“No. No, no. That’s weird. Just wait. I-I’ll see you two out there okay.” you respond, giving the two of them a smile and a thumbs up as you push out of the door. 

You nervously duck back to the table, buttoning Armin’s jacket up as you slide in next to him, squeezing his hand under the table when he gives you a questioning look. You shake your head as he gives you a nod, the two of you clear and focusing back on the dinner at hand. 

“Y/N. Are you hooking up with Sukuna? He’s hot.” Myka asks, leaning into your space. 

You spit your water back into your glass as you start choking on the parts that went down, Armin’s hand comforting on your back. 

“Um. No, never in a million years. We’re just friends.” you respond, giving them a smile. 

“The Promiscuous video was really hot. You’ve never looked better.” 

You turn your head to find the guy seated between Connie and Armin leaning over, holding his hand out to you as he talks. He has short black hair and cold, steely eyes. 

“Vinh.” 

You place your hand in his, thrown off by the clamminess, as he smiles continuing. 

“I mean. Some part of it has to be real right? That whole bit where Sukuna’s like on the floor crawling after you walk away, when he pretends to pass out when you blow him a kiss, and when you throw the water on him just to take his shirt off after...you can only fake chemistry like that to some extent.” 

“Ah. I’m an actress. That’s my entire job. And the song is called Promiscuous. We-we obviously leaned into a little bit. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“That’s music to my ears then.” he says, smiling. 

You know that smile. It reminds you of Ricky. 

“Vinh, stop it. And Connie, you’ve had enough to fucking drink.” Eren says, glaring bullets at the two of them. 

“Eren. Shut the fuck up.” Connie responds, clearly irritated with Eren. The two of them hold their eye contact, for too long, as you look at Armin. 

“Connie. I will beat it out of you again if I have to.” Eren responds, which makes Connie drop his gaze. The group laughs as Eren scoffs, his knuckles white against his glass.

You’re thrown off by the sudden hostility, Eren’s demeanor entirely different from what he was in the bathroom. Granted, he was still a bit off-putting in there, but the fact that he’s…purposely picking a fight with Connie is entirely unlike him at all. 

Connie gets so irritated that he storms off, leaving the table all together, as everyone murmurs what a buzzkill he is.

Connie’s always been the life of the party. Even insinuating he’s a buzzkill is downright ironic. 

“So. How is filming for the movie going? Which one is this again?” 

“Don’t Worry Darling.” Hyla responds, swirling her fork around her plate. 

“I’m really excited to see it, you guys. I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

Hyla twists her straw in between her fingers as she looks in between Lana and then you. 

“Lana Banana.” 

Lana curls up her nose at the term, tilting her head over to look at her. 

“You’ve just been so busy lately. You’re not really looking fit for your part anymore. I think Y/N should take it. Don’t you think, Eren?” 

Eren swallows hard as he looks at you, eyes flitting between you and Lana, as he stays silent. And the beat goes on for too long and no one talks, so you bite the bullet and do it for them. 

“I uh. Don’t have time for that actually. Danny and Sareen lined up a four day only show in New York City for me the week of the Institute Awards. I’m supposed to close for that award show, so I-I’ll have a lot of rehearsals leading up to it.” you respond, dissolving the loaded question so Eren didn’t have to. 

“Well our next movie. You should definitely join, everyone here loves you. Vinh especially.” she says, smiling. 

“Oh! I-I’ll see about that.” 

“Don’t you think Y/N and Vinh would be cute together, Eren? She’s clearly into that whole bad boy thing since she liked Sukuna.” 

“Oh, I don’t-” 

And then Eren’s leaning into her space, lips a few feet away from hers, as he smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. And then he presses a kiss to the top of her forehead, her cheeks turning bright pink. 

“Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?” 

She gives him a giddy smile as she nods, putting her hand in his, as he drags her out, arm secured around her waist. He gives Lana a look over his shoulder as he leaves, which Lana ignores as she gives you and Armin bright smiles. 

--

You settle into the bed, Lana at your side, as you reach for your phone. 

you: everything good? 

armin: yeah. connie isn’t even here he like never came back. also his room smells like pop rocks LOL

you: so THIS is why he’s sleeping all the time. 

armin: everything good with you? 

you: yes. i’m sleeping with lana. 

armin: okay. sweet dreams. don’t think about stuff too hard. 

you: speaking of stuff, i don’t think i’m going to do it anymore, armin. 

you: i thought that eren and hyla would be more like…me and ricky. but he actually likes her i think. 

armin: yeah. i think so too, i’m sorry y/n. 

you: our time just passed i guess. better to keep him around as my friend than not at all, right? 

armin: it’ll pass, y/n. it-it goes away. talk to ymir. about hisu. she can help you better. 

You turn on your sheets to find Lana next to you, already sprawled over the majority of the bed, and dead asleep. Her expression looks so tired, her deep breaths indicating that she’s already fully out, despite it only being five minutes since you’ve been here. 

And she looks soft. Her jaw isn’t as sharp anymore, a little bit of fullness in her cheeks, but the same pointy nose. 

It’s pretty. She’s pretty. 

You bury your head into your own pillow as you flutter your eyes shut, trying to will away the image at dinner. Except you can feel it in your space, the thought of them together, like you’re being poked. 

“Y/N.” 

Poke. 

“Y/N. Wake up, sleepyhead.” 

You flutter your eyes open to find Eren, big green eyes staring at you, with his jacket pulled over his head as the source of the aforementioned poking. On instinct, you reach forward and make contact with his nose, which has him falling against the wall and groaning. The sound is so loud that you both look over at Lana, who is unbothered by the sound and still dead asleep. 

You jump up and cup Eren’s hands in your face, fingers soft and feeling for his nose in the dark. 

“Eren. What-what the fuck was that?” 

“You’re asking me that? You’re the one who just punched me in the nose!” he whispers. 

“Are you stupid? I’ve had like three different run-ins with people stalking my house. I-I learned self defense.” you whisper back. 

His face softens and he brings his hands up to where yours are - still resting on his face - as he removes them and drags you towards the door. There’s a jacket on the desk, which he’s holding open for you and gesturing for you to put on. 

“What are we doing?” 

“I-Armin told me you want to take me to the aquarium the day after my birthday. But. I-I can’t. I’m busy but I still want to spend time with you so, let’s go.” 

“Where? It-It’s like almost eleven. Aren’t you filming tomorrow?” 

“Please? It-it’s my birthday? One hour to my birthday?” 

You roll your eyes and nod which has Eren pulling the hood over your hair and carefully zipping the jacket up as he gives you a smile. The two of you tiptoeing through the townhouse as you sneak out. His hand is locked in yours, pulling you hard, as he pockets the keys to one of the cars and drives you out. 

He’s driving along the roads, nearly empty, as the moon shines light on the puddles in the road. The car comes to an abrupt stop at a small house and when you get out, the breeze and the smell of salty air envelopes your nose as you march up together. 

“You have a beach house?” 

“Not mine. It’s a friend’s.” 

You nod as the rocks crunch underneath your feet and Eren pockets his keys, shoving the brass into the door and dragging you in. The lights are open and there’s a decent amount of giggling getting louder as he pushes you through the house, a confused look on his face. 

“Why are you guys still awake?” 

You turn your head to find two people - a guy who can’t be much older than you holding a little boy - frosting cookies over a granite countertop. 

“Eren!” the kid says, shaking his arms and leg in his hold until he’s dropped.

The boy runs over to Eren, wrapping his arms around his legs as he excitedly laughs, the sound so loud it pierces your ears. In a good way. 

“Teddy. Why aren’t you sleeping, little man?” Eren asks, crouching down to pinch at his cheeks. 

The other man, from before, takes your side as he responds to him, giving Eren a knowing look. 

“Nightmare, Eren. I’m Landon, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Ah. The infamous Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” he responds, smiling as he holds his hand out for you. 

“Are you here to play with me, Eren?” Teddy asks, jumping up and down against Eren’s legs. 

“Not exactly. But I do have a friend I want you to meet.” 

Eren looks up, a smile on his face, as he gestures for you to crouch down next to him, Teddy standing in front of the two of you. 

“Teddy. This is my pretty friend, Y/N. Can you say hi?” he says, emphasizing each word slowly. 

Teddy gets embarrassed when you smile at him and immediately buries his face into Eren’s shirt, the back of his neck entirely red as he nervously shakes his head against Eren. 

“Teddy. Just say hi, she’s really nice.” his voice soft, coaxing Teddy to say hi again. 

You smile as he turns his head, brown eyes peering into yours, as he awkwardly shuffles in Eren’s arms, his hands knotted together behind his back.

“Hi! I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” you say, flickering your eyes quickly up to Eren who's beaming at you as he waits for Teddy’s response. 

“I’m Theodore.” he responds. 

“Theodore? Since when do you go by Theodore, little man? Trying to impress someone?” Eren asks, reaching forward to pinch his pink cheeks and lift him in the air, which has him giggling like no other. 

You laugh as the two of them keep laughing together, leaning against the countertop where Landon’s leaning, the half frosted cookies in his hands. 

“So how do you know Eren?” you ask. 

“We have a mutual friend. And he keeps coming around, to play with the kid. Uninvited, mind you.” 

“We’re sorry to intrude. Though, he dragged me here and I had no idea. So it’s his fault.” 

“Sounds like him.” he says, dusting off his hands as he walks over to Eren, scooping Teddy out of his arms. 

“Okay, Teddy. Say bye to Eren and Y/N now. It’s bedtime.” 

You walk up to Eren, who’s hunching down so your faces are close to each other as you both wave bye, the silence filling up the room as you step back and away from Eren. He gives you a soft smile as he places his hands flat on your back and pushes you through the open door, the sand and ocean glimmering under the light of the full moon. 

Eren swipes a guitar case and a blanket off the patio as you both discard your shoes and pad into the sand, a few feet away from where the waves are crashing. Eren hands you the case as he places the blanket flat onto the sand and lies down on it, tapping the spot next to him and beckoning you to join him. 

You cross your legs and sit instead of lying down, his head a few feet away from your knees. His green eyes focused on the moon, shining above, bathing you in the pale light. You open up the case, a beautiful acoustic guitar lying in the case and start strumming aimlessly against the strings, not missing the way Eren smiles at the tune and closes his eyes. 

“Can you sing me something?” he asks. 

“What do you want to hear, almost birthday boy?” 

“Invisible string.” he responds. 

You smile as you switch the chords, fingers strumming against the strings as you quietly sing, watching Eren’s closed eyes and his soft smile. His dimples on display, the freckles underneath his eyes, his soft, soft hair. 

It’s only then that it stings. That you hold all this love, all this big, real love for Eren. That at one point, you felt it together at the same time but that he’s moved long past that. 

As you finish, Eren’s shooting up, swinging the strap of the guitar off of your neck and slipping it around his own. He’s tapping the ground in front of him, beckoning for you to lie down in front of him now, his fingers soft on the guitar. 

“What song is it?” you ask, head turned to the side away from him and focused on the crashing of the waves, how they roll perfectly, rise and fall to crash against the sand. 

“New one.” 

“Hm. What’s it about?” 

“Marco. He-he gave me this Maya Angelou poetry book on my birthday a few years ago, the birthday where you gifted me the vinyl. There was a quote in it that just made me think.” 

“What was the quote?” 

“Just like the moons and the suns, with the certainty of the tides, just like hope springing high, still I’ll rise.” 

The wave rises. And it crashes. Again and again. 

“Sing, Eren. I want to hear it.” 

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you? 'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love, my, my, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine, all mine 

You shuffle away from the tides to look at him, his eyes focused on the strings and his fingers plucking so softly. Eyes focused on his lips. The lips, that could end you here and now. 

“The moon is blushing up there, Eren. You’re writing love songs about it.” 

“The moon is my muse. I can only write songs about her.” he whispers, his hands making their way to your hair, to tuck your flyaways behind your ear. 

You feel your cheeks burning, the image of Eren - seventeen and whispering in your ear about how you’re his moon, how you have a pull on him - on the forefront of your brain. 

“Y/N. You-you don’t remember what it means?” 

“Huh? What are you talking about?” 

“This.” he responds, his fingers switching to the other side and tucking your stray hairs behind your ears. 

You feel your ears burning, when you remember. The secret signals that you and Eren came up with. And the tucking the hair behind the ears, it’s- it means he wants to kiss you. You shoot up and Eren swings the guitar off, knees hiked to his chest as his green eyes look at you, expectantly. 

“You-you can’t, Eren.” you whisper, the thought of dinner still in your mind. 

“Why not? Do you not want to?” he asks, whispering back. 

“That’s not fair to her. You can’t.” 

“You-you heard me right? Nothing in the world belongs to me, except my love. And-and you're the only thing that's really mine. You-you still do, right? Belong to me?” he asks, his voice wavering. 

“Eren.” 

“Please. Please, I don’t want to beg. Don't make me. Do you still belong to me?” 

He brings his hand up to your face, warm against your cheek, which is ice cold from the biting wind, and you lean into it. The warmth, in his hand, his eyes, his honey sweet voice. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.” you whisper. 

“Y/N. You- don’t get confused. You know what this means right? Us?” 

You give him your best smile and nod, your fingers tingling. It means he still loves you too. 

He leans forward, eyes closed as he kisses you, warm and soft. The sensation tingles all the way down to your stomach, makes your cheeks burn, and your brain prickle. And you relax, the familiarity of this, so delicate, so unchanged from the time he kissed you last that you can’t help but smile into his lips. 

You lean against his shoulder and look up, at the moon above you two, his arms wrapped around you. 

“Moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?” you ask. 

“Always has.” he responds, his lips soft in your hair as the warm tears fill your eyes. 

“Happy birthday, Eren.” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Thank you, my moon.” he responds. 

And you stay there, to watch the sun rise. On the two of you, together, for the last time. 

--

Eren tucks you back into bed with Lana as the sun peaks up, though it’s a battle in itself. Because Lana’s all starfish on the bed, her limbs tangled over every open space on the bed. But Eren’s rude and he’s just flopping her around, until he makes space, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving. 

And hours later, the sun is sinking down, with Lana nowhere to be found and Armin reading at the couch to the side.  

“Hey.” 

“Jesus. It’s almost sunset, you’ve been sleeping all day. Whatever Connie has is rubbing off on you.” he mutters, reaching over to hand you a water bottle.

“Sorry. I slept late because-” 

Because of Eren. 

You jump up and take the seat next to Armin, excitedly telling him everything that happened last night. And he’s smiling so bright, blue eyes glimmering that you’re both excitedly hugging each other and squeezing hard. 

“Well. He’s been out all day, but he should be back tonight. Let’s go to dinner before we leave,  yeah?” 

You nod, jumping up to the bathroom to get ready, the smile on your face aching your cheeks as you reach for the toothpaste. You peek your head out the door at Armin. 

“‘Min.” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you have toothpaste? 

“There’s some in Connie’s room. Just go grab it.” 

You take your toothbrush and bustle through the hallway, past the crowds of people walking through. You’re lucky you never have to mourn the frat house experience. You’re fairly certain you’re living it right now.

You swing into his room, the smell of candy overwhelming, as you push forward and open the door. Only to find Connie, leaned over the counter, fixing up three lines of white powder with a credit card. 

“Connie. What are you doing?” you ask, your throat burning in your neck. 

He turns his head and his eyes nearly boggle out of his head as he quickly swipes the powder into the sink and the excess on his hands against his pants. He’s smiling, too big, too synthetic as he grabs your hands. 

“Y/N! Nothing! You- it was a joke. It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” 

You swallow hard as he presses you into a hug and the dots connect, your eyes burning. 

Connie’s doing drugs. It’s-it’s why he sleeps all the time and then suddenly has intense energy out of nowhere, why his nose is red, why Eren told him to stop drinking. 

Eren’s words from dinner ring in your head, of how he said he beat it out of Connie, and sit in a bad way. 

Eren beat Connie up for doing this?

You pull back and press your hands to Connie’s face, to take him in. His skin is burning hot to the touch and there are beads of sweat matting his forehead, his entire demeanor so anxious, so jittery and nervous that it sets you off. And all you can think of is sweet Connie, so excited and energetic doing this in his free time that it makes you eyes burn. 

“Connie. Are-are you okay? Why are you doing this?” 

He freezes. And at your words, his entire demeanor changes and suddenly he’s on the floor softly crying, his head in his hands. You join him on the floor and put your hand on his shoulder. 

“Connie. What’s wrong?” 

“I-I just wanted to be the best, Y/N. I wanted to be the lead for once, I-” 

“Connie. You, you’re-” 

“Do you know how fucking tired I am of all of this? I-I can’t do this anymore. You- I’m done. I have to quit, I have to-” he says, shaking in your arms as you wrap your arms around him, tears streaming down your eyes. 

“He couldn’t even let me have this one thing, Y/N. Eren just had to be the best.” he spits out, his chest heaving up and down as he mutters out more words, a long list of profanities directed towards Eren. 

“Connie. You- we can go. Armin and I are leaving in a few hours, you-you should come with us. We-we want to help you.” 

“You don’t get it, Y/N. Wherever I go, this thing follows me. That people know my fucking name when I walk down the street, when I go to the beach, when I’m at the doctor. We’re never getting fucking out of this. This is our life now.” he responds, cheeks straight on your face. 

You reach for your phone on the counter as it buzzes, Armin’s name flashing across the screen. Connie’s still lying down flat on the floor, his tears falling straight onto the floor. 

“Y/N.” 

“Armin.” 

“Are you crying? I-I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding, let’s just go-” 

“It’s Connie. Can you come here? It’s- he’s not okay.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m running.” 

And a few seconds later, Armin’s pushing into the bathroom and his eyes are boggling at the sight of the two of you and his face falls when you explain. And then your phone starts buzzing on the counter, the notifications constant. You lift it and scroll, eyes flitting through the letters. 

mikasa: don’t panic. we’ll figure out a response, okay? 

jean: call us as soon as possible okay? ill kill him next time i see him

nobara: i’ll fly out to see you. are you still in new york?

levi: Call me when you get a chance. Hope you’re okay. Hange is going to talk to him. 

sukuna: On your side. Whatever you do. 

“Y/N. You- there’s something you have to see.” Armin says, dragging you out and handing you his phone. He rushes back into the bathroom to Connie, as you scroll through the tab on his phone. 

It’s a video of Eren and Lana, with chunky headsets and microphones in front of their faces. You recognize the backdrop immediately - one of the WBS’s most popular podcasts, called Life in Love. 

You press the clip and tilt the phone, eyes focused on Eren and Lana as they start talking. 

“The person that you’re most associated with, Eren, is your co-star, Y/N L/N, from Attack on Titan. Can you comment on that, on what it’s like to have your first love be something so public?” the interviewer asks. 

“First love is a funny way to describe it. I-I know that a lot of people like to assume things and we’ve never really said it publicly, but we never did actually date. It was a whole thing we did together, while we were filming Attack on Titan. Method acting.” 

“Can you elaborate?” the interviewer asks. 

“It’s like that thing with Ricky James. I mean, we’re all actors, we’re all part of the entertainment industry. And we do things, pretend a little, to make our art feel more authentic. The reason Y/N and I act so well in Attack on Titan, and win awards from it, is because we do it outside of it too. It’s like we’re acting all the time. You can turn it on and off.” 

“So are you just friends, then? I mean, Y/N has an interesting track record with her own friends, like Historia and Jean and Mikasa that many people have pointed out before. Is that something that you can corroborate? That she’s a good friend?” 

“She’s a good friend of mine, we-we laugh about it sometimes. And as for the stuff about her other friends, you know. You’re in competition and if you have something you really want, you-you’ll do anything to get it. That’s something I can admire. There’s only one person who ends up on a pedestal and if you have to kick people off to get there, that’s what it is.” 

You jump off the bed and rush back into the background, where Armin is crouched next to Connie, his hand on his head. 

“Connie.” 

“Y/N. Hey, you ok-” 

“What were you saying about Eren?” 

“Huh?” Connie asks, eyes deeply lidded and his breaths becoming more labored. 

You put your hands on his shoulders and shake, as aggressively as you can, as the tears stream out of your eyes. 

“What did you mean? What did Eren do?” 

“What he always does. Put himself first. Even if I’m the thing at stake.” Connie mutters, his hands shaking in your hold. 

Armin gives you a pained look as your tears flow harder, your hands still on Connie’s shaking frame. 

“Y/N. Get ready. We-we should leave.” Armin says, hands on his phone as he calls the car. 

“Okay. I-I need a few minutes. And we’re taking Connie with us. I-I don’t care if he gets fired or whatever, he-he’s not staying here, Armin.” 

Armin presses his hands on your shoulder, squeezing hard. 

“I was going to say the same thing. C-calm down, Y/N. Okay? I’ll be back in a few.” 

--

You wait in the kitchen as Armin lugs Connie’s bag down, swirling the glass of water in your hands. Your eyes are focused on everyone in the room, a smaller group, ambling around the room. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh. Hi Vance.” 

“It’s Vinh.” he responds, giving you a smirk. 

“Sorry.” 

He scoots closer to you, his hand firm on your shoulder, as he leans down, a smile spread on his face. 

“So, would you ever think about doing it with me?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Faking it. Except, we can do all the real things too.” he says, securing his hand around your face and leaning closer to your lips. 

You push his hand off as you put space between you two. 

“Why would I ever do that?” 

“Don’t act like you’re above it. Eren, Ricky James. I don’t see how I’m any different. Or if you have any dignity to preserve.” 

You feel your throat dry, at the impact of Eren’s words solidifying in your mind. That him saying that your relationship wasn’t real only furthers all that hate you received after you told everyone the truth about Ricky. 

That you were fake. And it meant now that people were going to start doing it again - start nitpicking every little thing, your relationship with Mikasa and Jean, with Eren and use every mistake you’ve made against you. 

And for guys like this, it’ll just make them think this is okay. That you’re easy, that they’re entitled to what you’ve done for others because you’ve done it before. 

“It-it’s really different.” you respond, running out of the kitchen. 

You quickly duck out of the room as you see Armin dragging Connie down the stairs and make your way over to help him, the itchy, dirty feeling of the interaction you just had being pushed to the back of your mind. 

You and Armin lug Connie to the back seat of the car, letting him lie down flat against the seats, as Armin reaches for the last of the stuff to put into the car. Connie’s still twitching in the seat, eyes pressed shut and sweating. 

You place your hands on both sides of his cheeks, the tears filling your eyes again. 

“Connie. I-I think we should take you to rehab or something, you-you’re not okay.” you whisper. 

He’s quiet, still shaking in your frame as he opens his eyes and looks at you. And the tiredness, the red and the pain mixed together has your heart flinching in your chest, cutting deep. 

“I hate myself for it. I didn’t want to be like this. That asshole who is high when his best friends are getting engaged.” 

“They won’t be mad at you, Connie. We-we understand.” 

“But I don’t understand. I wanted to remember it, Jean and Mika, they-they’re special. I-I wanted to remember it.” he says, his voice cracking as the tears start spilling down his face. 

“Con.” 

“I hate myself for it. I really, really do.” he says, so definitively, so sure of himself that all you can do is squeeze his cheeks in your hands as he falls asleep. 

You brush your fingers through his buzzed hair one last time as you step out of the car, only to see Armin and Eren arguing near the bags by the door. You walk up, which stops them all together, as they both focus their eyes on you. 

“Eren. Can I talk to you?” 

He tilts his head towards Armin, who's still standing there, fists clenched. You give him a nod as he walks away, rolling the rest of Connie’s bags towards the car. 

“Did you want something?” he asks, eyes squinting into yours. 

“Yeah. I-I want to know what happened. You and I- we.” 

“Y/N.” 

You reach for his arm, for his fish tattoo right above his elbow and squeeze. 

“Eren. It-it’s not true, right? There’s an explanation for this? Because we-we can help you. We’re taking Connie and leaving and you should come.” 

“That’s not a good idea.” 

“Eren. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Just come with me. Or if you need me to stay, I’ll do that too. We can figure out how to tell the truth about it all. I won’t leave.” 

He rolls his eyes, green eyes glaring into yours as he responds. 

“Y/N. What part of what I said was a lie?” 

You swallow hard, the acidic feeling in your mouth burning. 

“Like almost all of it? You and I were real. We loved each other. And we still do.” 

He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes, as he drawls his voice out, each word stinging more. 

“Do we?” he asks, his look so harsh it stings and the tears rise to your eyes. 

Yes. You do. 

“Yeah. What-what about yesterday? On the beach?” 

He sighs, pushing his hand through his hair as he falls out of your hold, putting space between you two. 

“I asked you if you knew what it meant when I kissed you. You clearly didn’t understand what I was trying to say.” 

“And what did it mean, Eren?” 

“That was a one time thing. For-for fun. It didn’t mean anything like that, I-I was just thanking you for coming down all the way for my birthday.” 

You pale. 

“You and I spent hours talking on the beach. About-about it all and-” 

“We did other things too.” he responds, his voice biting. 

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, the understanding registering. That you spent hours on the beach talking, but amongst that there were other things you did too. The pale purple on his neck is proof of that. 

“But-but you said all that stuff before. Sang that song, called me the moon and-” 

“You’ve always been into that fluff shit. We always say corny shit like that before we do stuff.” 

You pale, every memory of Eren whispering soft words against your skin as he kissed you souring in your mind. Because of the insinuation that none of it was real. That he just did it because he knew you liked to hear it, not because he meant any of it. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You know. The whole “we’re fish together thing” and the songs and all that.” 

You stare at him, at his forehead crushed up in frustration and his green eyes, cold and soulless as they stare at you. You look down at his fish tattoo, and cross your arms to cover your own, glaring back at him. 

“You’re a fucking liar, Eren. You-” 

“Y/N. I’m a fucking actor. My entire job is to pretend like I like you, do you really think I am so incapable of keeping the act up when the cameras turn off?” 

“It doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for you to do that.” 

“There is. I want to win Best Actor in a TV Series.” 

“And what does that have to do with us?” 

“Levi said that this role, if I did it right, could make me the fucking best. And you-you had no experience. I had to make sure that you actually liked me so that I didn’t have to carry you in every fucking scene. So that your acting wouldn’t bring me down.” 

"Eren."

"Why did I win an award for the Thank You scene? Because you actually fucking liked me, because you were able to cry and act in the scene. You're a good actor, but you were never that good."

“But what about after? You-we were together when we weren’t filming.” 

“You went on your tour. Got distant. Did I ever once make any effort to talk to you when you stopped? No, I didn’t. You broke up with me on that balcony because your team wanted you to date Ricky James instead of me. Did I stop you? No. You know why? Because who you date doesn’t fucking bother me, not in the slightest.” 

“You knew. We-we understood each other. That’s why we broke up, because it’s fishbowl and-” 

“Who the fuck would be okay with that? Seriously, if it was all in earnest, you think I’d just let you do that?"

“Then why the fuck are you writing depressing ass songs at the Met Gala and then taking care of me after the whole thing went down?” 

“Y/N. You’re so fucking naive. That’s what you have to do. I act on the screen and I make people interested in me after the fact. I write songs about you, make it seem like you’re the one who broke up with me, so that people stream the songs. So that people talk about them. So that they’re popular. And then I save you after the fact, because at the end of the day, you and I still have a show to fucking finish and I can’t exactly leave you out there in the rain, can I?” 

“Eren.” 

“Think about it. After you were good and fine with Ricky, did we keep talking? Did it stay the same? No. I had no interest in putting effort in after that, because I was dating another girl. And I still am by the way.” 

“Eren.” 

“Get it through your head. You- I had to help you. In whatever way I did. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star.” 

"No part of real to you? Not even one?"

"It-it's fun to pretend sometimes. But that's all it is, Y/N. Pretending. Faking it."

You feel a hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard, and turn to find Armin, his jaw clenched against his head. 

“Are you serious, Eren? How can you even say that to her?” 

“It’s the truth. She should try it sometime.” 

You choke back a sob, your chest heaving up and down, as Armin lets go and pushes Eren, the irritation sitting in his chest. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to Connie? To Y/N?” 

“Armin. We filmed one show together when we were kids. Don’t get mad when I don’t have the same loyalty that you all feel for each other. It was fun, but I still have a career outside of it.” 

“Eren. You loved Attack on Titan. And us, you-you wanted to go back to it so many times after we stopped filming and went on hiatus.” 

“Yeah. Because I was in a show that was actually good. Not shitty movies that were flopping. That-that had nothing to do with you guys.” 

“Eren.” 

“You guys should leave. I’ve had enough.” 

Eren reaches for the last bag, grabbing Armin’s polaroid camera on top before pushing the last bag into Armin’s hands. And when he extends his hand to hand Armin the camera, he pulls back at the last second and lets it fall to the ground, with a resounding crack. 

All you see is red.

“Eren. What did you just do?” you ask. 

“My bad. I broke it.” he spits out.

Armin swallows hard as he looks at it, the camera that’s documented every portion of your childhood, every up and down and in between for the past seven years, now broken in his hands. Levi and Hange's vow renewal, every birthday, everyone messing around in between takes and- he just broke it.

You crouch down and put a hand on Armin’s shoulder, his tears falling straight onto the floor, over the camera. And pick up the pieces with him, the jagged edges hard in your hands, as you carry them over to the car. 

You look back one last time, to see Eren with his hands in his pockets, illuminated by the moonlight, you take one last look and sit in the car. And then get in the car and let your tears flow freely. You lift Connie’s head and place it in your lap as Armin puts in the directions. And on your right, your phone buzzes and you pick up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi! This is the Seattle Aquarium! We just wanted to know what time you would be coming by for your friends birthday tomorrow so we can set up?” 

You swallow hard and hang up, cursing the stupid aquarium and the stupid fish that got you caught up in this in the first place. 

You slide to Eren's contact - the picture of you two staring back at you - and block the number. And make a mental note to get your tattoo removed. 

--

“Hello.” 

“You’ve sat idle for three months now. And I’m not letting you sit around any longer. It’s-you have to defend yourself. This-you’re better than this. They’re making a mess of you.” 

“Let them. Is there really anything I could say to stop them? No and-”  

“Watch the link I sent you. Quit talking back with your shit excuses and remember why you even did any of this in the first place. And then call me back when you’re thinking straight.” 

The line goes flat as the notification comes, the link in your messages. You open it up, a clip of Hange’s getting their triple threat commendation. Their speech, the one that got you involved in all this shit in the first place, ringing in your ears. The only reason you wanted to be a triple threat in the first place. 

To anyone watching at home, in their living room in their rundown pajamas, this is a sign to never ever give up on your dreams. Because that used to be me, and it can be you too. Never let anyone stop you from becoming the triple threat you are meant to be. To let that fire run wild and true and let people see the real you.  

The media made a shit show out of you, in the three months that followed. So much so, that you don’t even show your face in public. Because it snowballs so fast, the entire drama around Don’t Worry Darling, around you and Eren and Hyla becomes the only thing people talk about. 

And the narrative is simple. You're quickly written off into something you’re not. That you faked your relationship with Ricky James and Eren Jaeger for publicity, that you leached off of their fame to be famous yourself. That it’s all you care about. 

Hyla goes on the record and brings up the night you and Eren shared on the beach. And quickly gives you your reputation as a home wrecker, as a people pleasing attention seeker who likes people who puff up her ego. 

People like Jean and Mikasa, like Connie and Sasha - who are still famous and good for your image, but not famous enough to over shine yoU. Not like Historia, who you so quickly discarded and then opened a full on competition with when you released your records. 

That at the end of the day, all you are is a small town girl from Canada, with a sick need to be at the top of the pedestal. To have people clamoring around you, praising you, because of your inferiority complex. That you're easy, that you have no feelings, that you're not even a real person.

The words churn in your mind, the thought angrily swirling with every other feeling. And the push, the support in a moment like this solidifies your plan in your mind. To let that fire run wild and true and let people see the real you.  

The real you. 

you’re right. i’m in. 

on my first flight out. we’re going to bury this asshole in the ground. 

And in the most perfect way, you’ve got the best person at your side helping you. Always known for upstanding honesty, truth, and for digging people into holes when they deserve it. For burying them with art, with carefully chosen words and songs.

It’s what makes her the perfect right hand to your revenge. Historia's always had a flair for the dramatics.

--

next part linked here

an, again: sukuna reputation era? sorry. girls do it better. (im just kidding, he'll be part of the reputation era but our best baby girl historia will be too). there is just something so insane about them ALL using historia as a piece of evidence against y/n and then her being right at her side. also no one hang me at the stake please.

taglist:

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

[tonyspank]

“CURIOUS WHO’S BEHIND THE MASK, TARA?”

Summary: Tara finds out who's behind her school's mascot, and finds herself getting closer to them. But Ghostface has other plans for the two.

Warnings: Ghostface, angst, character death.

A/N: no pt.2 sorry & old draft that i shall post because i love u guys

"Woooo!" Mindy yells, clapping and cheering for her brother. It was a rare occasion to see everyone in the Core Four present at a football game.

But this was the championship game, and Chad was the star wide receiver. Sam smiles along with Tara, watching Chad celebrate at the end of the game, securing Blackmore the state title.

The team mascot, a fierce brown cougar, joins in the celebration by doing flips and cartwheels on the sidelines. Tara leans into Mindy's ear. "You ever wonder who's under the mask?"

"Curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" Mindy wiggles her eyebrows before chucking, adding, "Chad knows! Just ask him."

Quinn joins in, "They're hot too! Chad showed me a photo of them." Mindy thins out her lips, nodding in agreement.

Tara raises an eyebrow maybe she will.

-

Chad laughs, now at Tara, Sam, and Quinn's apartment, along with Mindy, Ethan, and Anika. "Why are you so curious about our mascot?" Mindy sets down her drink, cutting Tara off.

"Quinn and I were kind of hyping them up." Tara nods, confirming Mindy's words. "The seasons over with! Why are you still keeping it a secret?" Chad shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "It's just more fun this way. Keeps everyone guessing."

Anika tilts her head, intrigued. "But don't you think it's time to reveal the mascot? I mean, the suspense is killing me!" Chad chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. "I don't know, guys..."

Ethan watches Tara and Anika throw their heads back, sighing and letting out a small laugh. "Maybe you should just tell them before jump them and rip off the mascot costume." He jokes, earning a playful punch from Anika.

Chad looks around the group before pulling out his phone. "I guess you're right," Chad says, scrolling through his phone. He stares at his screen a bit before a voice is heard from his phone. "Hello?"

Chad's face lights up. "Everyone wants to see you without the mask. They've been asking about you all day." The group looks at Chad with anticipation, eager to hear who Chad has on the phone.

"Oh...uh, sure." You let out a laugh, placing your phone on your desk, ready to reveal your identity to the curious group. Chad flips the phone off his face, revealing the screen to everyone. Tara and Anika's jaws drop, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh my god." Anika mumbles, covering her mouth in disbelief. Tara, on the other hand, lets out a small laugh. "I didn't expect that."

You wave at everyone. "I hope I lived up to your expectations!" you say with a smile. Chad, still grinning, introduces you to the group. "Everyone, this is Y/N. Our school's mascot."

-

"Mind refilling my cup?" you ask, pointing to your empty cup. Tara chuckles. "Can't you just use the force and make it fill itself?" She teases, mocking your Anakin Skywalker costume. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing that Tara always has a quick comeback.

"You will refill my cup." You say, waving two fingers in a playful Jedi mind trick gesture. Tara laughs and obliges, taking your cup before making her way to the keg. A brown-haired boy places his own cup upside down on the pump.

"You're kidding me, right?" Tara asks the boy, raising an eyebrow. He grins, "Nah, last one's kicked. We got hard stuff in the kitchen though." The boy extends his hand, "Frankie."

Tara smiles, shaking his hand. "Tara. Lead the way." Frankie leads Tara towards the kitchen, and you watch with a slight frown. "Looks like you have a sith to deal with." Mindy says, nodding towards Frankie and Tara.

You light up your prop lightsaber, and Anika adds, "May the force be with you." You chuckle and reply, "Thanks, I might need it."

You walk to Tara and Frankie, ignoring the boy as you smile at Tara. "Is that mine?" You ask, pointing at the red solo cup. Tara nods. "It's tequila, so proceed with caution."

You raise an eyebrow and take a cautious sip. The strong taste burns your throat, but you manage to hide your discomfort. As you hand the cup back to Tara, you notice Frankie smirking at your reaction. "Not a fan of tequila?" Frankie asks teasingly. You playfully roll your eyes and reply, "Let's just say we have a complicated relationship."

Frankie chuckles and turns to Tara. "Hey, I have a bottle of Fireball in my room." You narrow your eyes at Frankie's suggestion, could he be any more obvious?

Tara shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though." You smile, silently grateful for Tara's refusal. It had only been a couple of months, but you found yourself grown to Tara completely.

"Do you wanna go somewhere more silent?" she asks you, turning her back to Frankie. You nod eagerly, relieved to escape Frankie's presence.

-

"Ghostface chasing us...Sam being Billy Loomis's daughter...is just mind-blowing." You say to Tara, leaning your back against the snack bar. Tara looks down at her shoes, a pensive expression crossing her face. "Yeah, it's definitely a lot to process," she replies softly.

You lift yourself off the snack bar and take a deep breath. "But regardless. I'm happy that I'm with you. You've truly made a mark on my life, Tara. I don't think I've felt so strongly for someone, you know? I'm willing to do some crazy shit for you, if it means keeping you in my life."

Tara's eyes meet yours, her eyes darting around your face. She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I feel the same way... It's scary sometimes, but in the best possible way. I can't imagine my life without you either."

You smile, leaning down and capturing Tara's lips with yours in a passionate kiss. You slightly pull away, bringing your forehead to rest against hers. "I never thought I would find someone who makes me feel this way. It's like you've awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed."

Just as Tara leans in again, she feels a sharp pain in her back.

"Tara!" You shout, holding on to her before she falls to the ground. Ghostface turns towards you, attempting to slash at you with his knife. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you quickly dodge his attacks and push him into a movie poster.

You manage to knock Ghostface off balance, causing him to stumble and drop his knife. Taking advantage of the moment, you grab Tara's hand and pull her towards the exit, determined to get both of you to safety.

Just on time, Sam and Chad open the door, and all of you gasp in surprise. "C'mon!" Sam shouts urgently, gesturing for you and Tara to hurry. Without hesitation, you sprint towards the open door, looking for an exit. But it's not long before you're back where you started—the four of you fighting off Ghostface.

You all manage to knock Ghostface to the ground, and you grab a gumball machine, urging everyone to keep moving. You lift the machine above your head, ready to smash it onto Ghostface, but before you can make your move, another masked killer stabs you in the side.

You gasp in pain as the sharp blade pierces your flesh, causing you to drop the gumball machine. "No!" Tara shouts, rushing to your side, but gets held back by Chad and Sam. You fall to the ground, two Ghostface's tower over you. The pain intensifies as you struggle to catch your breath, realizing that this might be the end of the line for you.

"Y/N!!" She screams again, watching them stab you repeatedly with a sickening frenzy. Your vision blurs and darkness starts to creep in, but you summon every ounce of strength, mumbling. "Run! Go!"

The Ghostface's turn to the three, wiping off their knives in unison.

-

"Great job. All of you." Detective Bailey says to the three Ghostface's. Sam and Tara's eyes widen when realization hits them. "You?"

"Yeah, of course, me." He chuckles before continuing. "Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us."

"Us?" The Ghostface on Bailey's left removes his mask, revealing Ethan. "Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad! Fuck, it felt good to kill him!"

Sam and Tara exchange shocked glances, their minds racing to process the revelation. Ethan's words hang in the air, leaving them speechless as they struggle to comprehend the extent of his twisted motives.

Tara's eyes then fill with rage, thinking back on you and Chad, and they mercilessly killed you both. Ethan grins and holds up his mask. "This one was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis? It really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family, "

Bailey buts in, "Wait for it!"

"My names not Ethan Landry, is it Dad?" Bailey laughs, smiling proudly at his son. "Dad?" Tara questions, even more confused.

"Wait, then who else does that leave?" Sam asks, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "I don't know?...Mindy?" The Ghostface on Bailey's right takes off their mask, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, roomies." Quinn says, smiling. "You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Tara's eyes widen in shock. "Yeah, cause you died!" Quinn chuckles. "Kind of didn't, though. It was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing."

"I just had to make sure I was the first one on the scene so I could switch her out with a fresh body. You'd be surprised at what a grieving father can get away with." Quinn smiles, "I got Stu Machers mask. He was my favorite."

Everyone turns to the last Ghostface, who had been standing silently beside Ethan. The last Ghostface slowly removes their mask, revealing a face that no one expected. It was you, alive and unharmed.

"Still curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" You ask with a smile.

Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she struggles to grasp what she is seeing. "But... how? How are you standing here right now?" she stammers, her voice filled with confusion and shock.

"I watched you get stabbed!"

The room falls into a heavy silence as everyone waits for an explanation.

"And Sidney supposedly saw Billy get stabbed," you continue, addressing the lingering doubt in the room. "He used pig blood, but that's out of date. Modern special effects have come a long way since then. It's all about creating the perfect illusion, and that's what I did." You explain, revealing the truth behind the seemingly impossible situation.

"I got Amber's mask." You say, looking at it before making eye contact with Tara. "See, I miss my sister dearly. You know Tara, she would call me and tell me how much she cared about her best friend, and not even two months later, you shoot her dead."

"She was trying to kill me!" Tara shouts. You clench your jaw, your own voice raising. "She loved you!"

Tara's face contorts with anger as she retorts, "She may have loved me, but she was also willing to take my life. I had no choice but to defend myself."

"...How are you, Amber's sister? Why weren't you in Woodsboro?" Sam asks.

You take a step closer to the sisters. "Me and Amber weren't biological siblings, but we were raised together since we were young. As for why I wasn't in Woodsboro, I stayed with my aunt... I never was a Cali person, you know?"

Tara glares at you, her anger still evident in her eyes. "Well, it's not like you would understand. You weren't there when it happened. You didn't see what she did."

"I may not have, but I know how she felt, and I saw what you did. I came here to get revenge for my sister and I will finish the movie she started with Richie, believe me."

[murdrdocs]

OH OH zombie apocalypse!luke just triggered something in me. cause imagine luke taking on the protector role with annabeth after everything goes to shit, and him encountering you and percy (and you almost knocking him out with a bat) in a deserted city…… oh the brainworms are worming alright — 🍒

slight gore (zombie killing); fem!reader

you still have the bat raised over your shoulder and aimed for the boy. there's a girl behind him, shorter, younger, maybe percy's age, but she watches you with eyes as watchful as her protector. she analyzes you, probably taking in the scars on your arms and the dried blood splattered along the metal of your bat. if they try anything to hurt you or percy, you won't be afraid to add their blood to the collection.

"what d'you guys want?" when percy speaks with venom in his voice, you aren't shocked one bit. you spare a glance his way and find him standing next to you instead of behind, one hand clasped around the hilt of his sword and the other twitching with anticipation.

he looks at you. slow down, you try to tell him.

you don't know if you interpret his look right, but if you do it says: speed up.

"hey, take it easy."

the words of the stranger in front of you removes you and percy from your hard stares. the boy's words are understanding, they're similar to your thoughts, but his hand—the one not holding a large duffle bag that whispers your name—wrapped around the hilt of a still-sheathed sword and the look in his eyes contradict any pacifism. the girl behind him has a similar look but more calculating, as if she's planning an escape route here and now.

"we don't want any trouble," the boy continues.

you can hear percy's eye roll in his words. "yeah, sure you don't."

"look, why don't you take the hand off of the sword and we can both go our separate ways." your suggestion is simple and falsely diplomatic. you know they won't go for it in the same way you wouldn't go for it.

it's surprising whenever the boy removes his hand from his weapon.

the girl behind him scoffs. you can't see her holding anything, but there is no way she isn't armed. not with a look as deadly as that.

"you're the ones holding weapons. shouldn't we be telling you that?"

before you or percy can respond, the boy does.

"annabeth," he says her name in a warning, his arm reaching out and shielding her body. even though the gesture presents itself as him protecting her from you and percy, you can't help but feel like it's the opposite. "chill. just do what she says."

annabeth's hand comes into view.

"and ..." percy hesitates and in the space filled you know his words will definitely be of the fighting kind. "hand over your weapons too while you're at it."

the boy rolls his eyes. "yeah, like hell."

percy repeats his demand with a firmer tone. it does nothing but provoke the boy more.

"what the hell do you want from us anyway?"

"what do we want from you?" you lift the bat a little higher and tighten your stance, preparing to swing if needed. "you're the ones trespassing."

as soon as the words leave your mouth, you regret them. you can feel percy's glare at your side, ignoring it doesn't do anything to make it go away. but you push your shoulders further back with false confidence.

"you guys stay back there?" the boy nods towards the gate behind you, one that leads to the jackpot of a home you and percy have been able to live in for a while now, only leaving during times like these to grab absolutely necessary items.

"what's it to you?" percy's accent starts to slip out and you know the blood is rushing to his heart and hands, preparing him for a fight.

the boy takes his hand off of the weapon again. you let your stance falter just a bit. "let us stay with you."

"like hell!" jesus, how is it that this boy has been standing in front of you for no more than ten minutes and you're already picking up his mannerisms? there is something about him. something you would've daydreamed about if you weren't in this situation. if the dead weren't walking the streets you would've laid on your stomach in your bed and created scenarios involving this—admittedly attractive—stranger.

"we've got supplies. you have a home. let's make a trade. just for a few days."

your eyebrows raise as you scan the exposed parts of their bodies. "why for a few days? either of you bit?"

the girl shakes her head. "no. herd up ahead. we need to wait it out."

you don't trust it, but the familiar step-slide of a walker comes from down the street. almost in tandem, all four of your heads turns towards it.

the boy steps forward the same time that you do.

"i got it," he tells you, finally unsheathing his sword and approaching the walker in one fluid movement. with one swipe of the weapon, he has the head of the walker chopped off and then the skull pierced with the tip of his sword with a quick jerk. you must admit it's an alluring sight, and you hope it isn't your hormones and desire speaking when you agree to let them stay with you.

but just for a few days.

[xerith-42]

I was wrong

It takes a lot to admit that, even more for me to admit that about MCD, but I was wrong about something in regards to this series. In a previous post I said that the worst episode of MCD was Season 2 Episode 95, because it was the culmination of the absolute failure that was Laurance's character arc. And I wasn't wrong about that, S2E95 is an objectively bad episode and I stand by it being one of the worst. But it's only one of the worst episodes of this series. Probably second or third worst.

The actual worst episode of Minecraft Diaries happens far earlier in it's run time than I anticipated. The actual episode that begins the degrading of every single main character happens within it's first season. The worst episode of Minecraft Diaries is Season 1 Episode 65, Our Fears.

For those of you who haven't watched MCD in a minute, or aren't insane like I am and recognize what happens in an episode from just a number and a thumbnail, this is the episode where Aphmau and Dante get chased into Malachi's abandoned castle and fall victim to his uncontrollable magic. A magic that shows people their greatest fears.

Now the concept of a ghost that forces the audience and the characters to come face to face with the leading characters greatest fears is a fantastic idea. I'm serious this is one of the best concepts for character work in the entire Aphverse. This is great, this can go so many good ways.

Aphmau's fear is pretty weak mostly because it shows her house on fire, nobody hurt, and Malachi comments that she's "Scared of losing the ones you love." My honest reaction to this was "She lost her house in episode 36 and didn't seem to care because her loved ones are safe. You wanna communicate that she's scared of people dying just show Zoey lying on the ground or something smh." It gets the job done, but not very well.

Dante's fear is the only one that's well done because it's an image of Gene about to rip apart the realm barrier in the Nether. This works surprisingly well despite only being one shot because it gets across Dante's connection to Gene and the Nether pretty well, setting up for the reveal later on. Dante's existence is this episode's single redeeming quality. And as much as I like the guy, he's not enough to hold up the episode after what happens next.

Now, dear viewer who presumably knows the plot of MCD because you've read this far into a post about this single episode, you know that at this point in the series Garroth has been found out by his brother and has the looming threat of the entire O'Khasis military on his mind all the damn time. Zane has already hurt members of his village in direct ways, and only didn't do more damage because he was called away for an emergency. Garroth has already failed to protect one lord, and he's nearly failed to protect another.

Laurance is a shadow knight. And even though the lore of shadow knights is still flimsy at this point, we know that they are very prone to killing lords, it's why Laurance renounced his position as head guard of Meteli and refuses to return. But that doesn't mean his desire for blood is gone. It just means it has a new target. Like say, the lord he comes to the castle in search of? That he has explicit romantic feelings for?

Again, this idea of forcing the audience and the characters to face their greatest fears is such a good idea, especially with these three, because they can all be interlinked. Aphmau fears losing her loved ones, Garroth fears failing to protect his people, and Laurance fears that he'll give into bloodlust. Are you picking up what I'm putting down? I don't know if I can make it anymore obvious where the show should have gone from here.

But, no, unfortunately Jesson wrote this series. So what could have been one of the best moments of character work in the entire series, instead became the beginning of the end for our would be love interests. I'm of course referring to how it's revealed that their actual "worst fear" is Aphmau getting with... Another guy. Not even her picking one over the other, just her holding hands with and kissing some guy that Garroth and Laurance DON'T EVEN KNOW!

And despite Laurance saying he's happy as long as he has Aphmau in his life, he starts getting enraged that another guy would have the audacity to kiss her. Even though the scene he's shown seems to be entirely consensual. And in response to this, BOTH OF THEM DECIDE TO TRY AND KILL THIS ILLUSION OF DANTE JUST FOR KISSING THE GIRL THEY LIKE!

AND THIS IS SEEN AS A GOOD THING BY THE SHOW!! Attacking this illusion breaks the barrier around the real Aphmau and Dante, and Garroth and Laurance are never punished for their actions here. Aphmau is barely concerned that her guards, the men she's willing to trust with her life, were willing to kill someone for the crime of kissing her. Hot fucking take, Aphmau maybe shouldn't trust these people after seeing that they're willing to kill a man over the crime of loving her when they want to.

And even hotter take, GARROTH AND LAURANCE WOULDN'T DO THIS! Both men have been shown to be highly protective over Aphmau, which makes sense it's literally their job to keep her safe, but that protective nature shouldn't cross over into actively interfering with her romantic life. They're fucking lucky it was just an illusion, what would have happened if Malachi used mind control? What if he was using Aphmau and Dante's bodies as puppets? What if Garroth and Laurance just killed an amateur guard whose only crime was being forced to kiss the girl they liked?

This is one of those writing decisions that truly baffles me. It was RIGHT THERE, HOW DID YOU MISS, IT (the perfect piece of character work) WAS THREE FEET IN FRONT OF YOU! The answer is that Jesson don't really care about the interesting character work, they care about tropes. They care about the main character being in a love triangle with two guys who equally suck but in different ways. They care about fans getting excited and debating over which ship is better. They care about pushing this love triangle onto viewers regardless of what makes sense for the characters involved because the writers fail to see the nuance of the characters that they fucking wrote the nuance of.

I fucking hate Episode 65. Easily the worst episode of MCD. Any episode after this when Garroth and Laurance act horrendously out of character in service of this love triangle (I'm looking at you episode 77, and episode 90, and season 2 episode 95, and season 2 episode 98), know that it started here. It started with episode 65.

Fuck this episode.