#end of chapter two act eleven and a half

[seeingivy]

it's time to go

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: im sweating.

songs/media mentioned: happiness by taylor swift and it's time to go by taylor swift (not mentioned but name of the chapter!!)

previous part linked here

--

You take a deep breath in as you stand at the shining bright doors of the building, the reflective mirrors at the front showing you your small frame in comparison. You brush down the ends of your dress, ridding your palms of the sweat accumulating as you push through the doors. 

There’s a receptionist sitting at the front, with short black hair who is diligently typing away on the computer. You can see the issue of Vogue, the one the Attack on Titan cast did for season two, placed in a placard at the top of the desk. And when you look around, you see that every Vogue cover you’ve done - the one of you and Sukuna, for your albums - is displayed everywhere. 

Then again. This is a big deal. Surely it’ll be their biggest feature of the year. 

“Alright. Your interview should be up the stairs, in room eleven. They’ll start set-up at twenty and then the interview will start at half-past.” she states, handing you a shiny key-card. 

“Would you happen to know if my request regarding the piano was approved?” 

“I believe so. It should be in the room.” she responds, smiling. 

“Thank you!” you respond. 

You walk up the stairs and find the room, a few workers shuffling around the set. They all give you polite smiles as you walk straight onto the stage, an expensive brown couch on the left and the grand piano you requested on the right. 

You take your backpack off and pull out the box, filled with polaroids all tagged to perfection for your interview, as they all start adjusting the microphones and cameras into place. A shorter, older woman walks up to you, shaking the microphone pack in her hand as she gestures for you to stand up. 

“Hi! Thank you so much for helping me out today. I’m Y/N.” you respond, clipping the pack to the back of your dress. 

“No problem. I’m Leila.” 

You pause. 

“I know you. We-we’ve met before, right?” 

Her face widens in shock as she nods, a bright smile spreading across her face. 

“Yes, that’s right.” she murmurs, voice quiet. 

“It was…god. That was years ago, back when we were doing press for season two. We filmed a video for your daughter, she was asleep and she was a really big fan, right? How is she doing?” 

“She’s doing good. She’s still a big fan of your music.” she says, smiling as she loops the wires through your ears, shuffling your hair behind your ear as she readjusts. 

“That’s sweet. I’m so glad she enjoys it, that-that’s very special to me that she does.” you respond, cheeks warm and something stirring in your chest. 

You take her in full, trying hard to wrack your brain for how she used to look. She’s definitely years older now - five to be exact - but you can’t pinpoint any. No wrinkles, no tiredness - still the same woman you knew. 

But you’re miles away from who you used to be, having aged what feels like eons. You think back to the interview, the compliments you and Eren gave to each other stinging in your mind. 

Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together. 

Y/N. You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.

You’re sure you're crying as you look back at Leila, her eyes wide as she reaches forward to wipe the tears. The deep feeling, the sadness sitting so deep in your chest that you’ve been trying to ignore, is suddenly too overwhelming, too loud for you to swallow. 

“I’m so sorry. Was it something I said?” she asks, her look frantic. 

You take her hand in yours, squeezing three times. 

“No. It’s me. I just remembered that interview. What Eren and I had said to each other and it made me a little sad, that’s all.” you respond, wiping your tears against the back of your hand. 

Her face deflates. 

“I’m very sorry for what happened. To the both of you.” 

You sigh. 

“Thank you. I-I appreciate that.” 

“This industry is not kind. To anyone. And having seen how you two were as kids, how genuine,  it’s sad to see what they’ve said to you both. You know that most of it, if any, isn’t your fault. People- they’re cruel. You’re a very brave girl for still coming here.” 

You swallow hard. And hope she still thinks you’re brave at the end of your interview. 

You sit down on the couch, anxiously tucking the ends of your hair towards the back of your ears, as the interviewer walks in, a bright smile on her face. Leila leaves, giving you a thumbs up as she walks away.

“Y/N. Congratulations. I’m Layla. Thank you for finally coming down for your interview.” she states, taking her seat on the couch next to you as they adjust the microphone in front of her. She has a blue box in her hands, which she tucks behind the couch. 

You don’t miss the snub she makes at you for postponing for months on end. You became a triple threat months ago. And your interview - about your career, about your work - was supposed to happen ages ago. 

“Thank you for waiting until I was ready. I can promise you-you won’t be disappointed with what I have for you. What’s that?” 

“It’s for you. We’re saving it for the end of the interview.” she states, giving you a smile. 

You nod, as you brace your knuckles against your own box, the director coming over to give you both directions and stage you properly against the cameras. 

“Hello everyone! My name is Layla Ray and I’m here with Y/N L/N. After a great deal of anticipation, Y/N is finally here, seated with Vogue, for the infamous triple threat interview. We’re going to go through the highs and lows of her career and ultimately discuss what comes with such a great title. Y/N, how are you feeling?” she asks, giving you a bright smile. 

You swallow hard. 

“Thank you, Layla. I’m doing okay. How are you?” 

“I’m great, thank you for asking. This interview has been a long time coming. Six months to be exact. Any particular reason why?” she states, adjusting her tone to be quieter, matching your tone. You can tell she’s a skilled interviewer - the excitement from before dying down as she brings the energy lower. 

“I-I wanted to be sure of what I wanted to say here. I want to be honest when we talk about my career and that requires self-reflection. I needed the time to do that. And I-I brought things here to share so I had to put those together too.” you state. 

“We’ll go back to the start then. What drew you to the industry - acting, singing, dancing?” she asks. 

You pull out your first picture, the one you ripped off of your wall. The paint is still stuck to the tape on the back, the picture of you, Falco, and Colt at your popstar themed birthday party. Colt and Falco have excited smiles on their faces, a sparkly pink crown on top of your head and your hands are clenched around the microphone, at the bottom. You can hear Eren’s words ringing in your mind. 

Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture. 

“This is me at my fourth birthday party. It was a popstar themed birthday party my parents threw for me. I performed a little show for them and my brothers, did karaoke, the whole thing. I-I saw Hange’s speech a few years later when they became a triple threat and it-it basically cemented this as my dream.” you respond, holding up the picture before handing it to Layla. 

She’s smiling, running her fingers over the picture. 

“This must be a surreal moment. A dream come true.” 

You wish. 

“Let’s talk about Attack on Titan. How did you find out about it, what was it like being cast, and on a set for the first time?” 

“I found out about it through a flier at my coffee shop. I kind of showed up on a whim and did a chemistry read with my co-star. I got the role later that week and was flown out to be with them all. I-I was overwhelmed when I got there at first. I didn’t know much about the set, the terms that you’re supposed to use, they-they had to teach it all to me, like I was a five year old. A fish out of water moment.” 

You nervously walk to the other side of the set, where Eren’s sitting in the makeup chair. The team is brushing through the ends of his brown locks, his eyes fixed on his script in front of him, as he murmurs his lines under his breath. You reach forward and snatch the paper out of his hands and tuck it under your arm. 

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” he responds, eyes wide as he smiles at you. 

“Sorry. Good morning, Eren.” 

He smiles. 

“I was joking. Did you need something?” 

“I have an embarrassing question. Can you come here?” you murmur, cheeks burning pink. 

He quickly hops off the chair, giving a sympathetic nod to the makeup team, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his face close to yours as you talk in hushed tones. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“What’s a hot brick?” you ask. 

“Huh?” 

“Hange. They-they asked me to bring them a hot brick. And when I said what, they were like…You do know what a hot brick is, right? And I got so embarrassed I kind of ran away and now I don’t know what to do.” 

Eren pauses as he registers, which is immediately followed by him smiling and leading you towards the back of the room. He picks up one of the charged batteries of the walkie talkies and places it flat in your palm. 

“A hot brick is a fully charged battery.” 

“Oh. Right. Th-thanks, Eren.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s only like your sixth day on a set. I didn’t even know this stuff until the end of my first movie. You-you aren’t behind, I promise.” 

“Okay. Thanks, I guess.” 

“I’ll help you. Before the rest of the cast gets here. Teach you all the terms and the secrets and stuff. You’ll be a natural.” 

“Really?” 

Eren gives you a nod, the smile on his face drawing your eyes to his dimples. 

“Thank you, Eren. Really.” 

“It’s no biggie. I’ll help you with anything you want. Just ask, okay?” 

“One of our most overwhelming questions that we received was what was it like filming with your cast? Your show - along with Jujutsu Kaisen - were really the first of their types to have such a big child actor presence on them.” 

You smile, pulling out your next three pictures. The first - it's a picture of you and Bertholdt, holding a World’s Greatest Dad mug in front of Levi, who has the most annoyed expression on his face. The second is of you and Historia - tying Reiner’s hair into two tiny ponytails. And the third - you and Marco, hugging each other so hard that your cheeks are pressed together. 

“It was the time of my life, really. I-I went to sleep every night with a smile on my face. They were genuinely such good friends of mine and this experience, these memories - they’ll always be special to me.”

“Do you have a favorite memory?” she asks. 

“Hm. I-we were all kind of immature at that age. I still am. Anything related to dirty jokes, especially when Erwin or Hange were involved is a surefire favorite. Sometimes I’ll remember them and still burst out laughing.” 

The teacher stands at the front of the makeshift classroom, the lazy energy enveloping the room. The warm haze of the summer has the ends of your hair sticking to your neck, the cold desk soothing your burning skin - preventing you from listening to whatever the physics teacher is saying about the solar system. 

You look to your right to find the same sentiment shared by everyone else too. Eren’s eyes are closed, his chin resting against his desk as the sweat rolls down the side of his face. Connie and Sasha are sharing a cold drink between them and Jean’s nearly turning pink as he fans Mikasa - the only one who looks relatively comfortable right now. 

You kick Eren’s leg.

“Hm? What’dya want, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

“Jean is fanning Mika. You could do the same.” you groan. 

You feel a light breeze on your neck as you turn your head to see Eren, leaning against his arm as he fans you with the book. You take it from his hand, giving a head shake as you turn to your side, the two of you facing each other on the aisles. You instinctively place your feet on top of his, the two of you looking at each other. 

“I was kidding.” 

“I know. I don’t mind though. You’re looking a little hot.” 

You smile. 

“Just a little?” 

“Shut up. You know exactly what I think about how you look.” he says, rolling his eyes. 

You bite back your smile. 

“And that’s why the answer is Uranus.” the teacher says, metal pointer smacking against the board. 

You look up at Eren, the two of you so incredulous - from the heat, from being stuck in here for three hours, from how stupid of a word it is - that you both burst out laughing. And then get in trouble together. 

“What the hell was so funny that your teacher had to take you out of class?” Levi asks, arms crossed against his chest as he stares the two of you down, hours later. Hange and Erwin are trying to mimic his intimidated stance, but all you and Eren can do is laugh. 

“Um. You don’t want to know, Levi.” you respond. 

“It’s stupid. We’re sorry.” Eren states. 

“No. No, I want to know what was so funny that you laughed so hard you pissed one of your nicest teachers off.” 

You and Eren give each other a look. 

“It-it’s inappropriate. We’re really sorry, okay? We’ll go and apologize right away.” 

You and Eren stand up, linking arms together as you move to walk away. Except Levi’s moved in front of you two, an entirely different look on his face. 

“Do I need to have a talk with you two?” 

“What?” you ask. 

“A talk. About sex.” 

You and Eren turn your heads to each other, eyes wide. And you immediately start back tracking. 

“Levi. Ew- oh my god. What’s wrong with you? You’re so disgusting. And-and-and a pervert.” 

“Y/N. Do we have to have a talk? Are you being safe? Why are you guys making dirty jokes in class that you can’t tell me?” he repeats, eyes burning into yours. 

“No! Oh my god Levi! It’s not like that.” 

Levi looks back at Hange as you look over at Eren, who's pouting at you. 

“What, Eren?” 

“You don’t have to act like you’re soooo repulsed by it. That’s not what you sounded like-” 

You smack your hand over his mouth, cheeks burning. 

“Eren. Shut up. This is not the time or the place to be bringing THAT up.” 

He smirks, clearly delighted by how embarrassed you are, before pressing a kiss to your palm where you’re covering his mouth. He turns back to Levi, Hange, and Erwin. 

“Levi. We’re sorry. The teacher said Uranus and we thought it was funny.” 

“Uranus? What the fuck is so funny about Uranus?” Levi asks. 

You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from laughing in Levi’s face - his very angry face. Luckily enough for you, you're not the first one to break. And neither is Eren. 

It’s Hange. They’re smacking the back of Levi’s back as they ask him to say it again, the four of you - Erwin having joined you - as you all goad Levi on to say it again. And you laugh so hard that by the end of it, you’re on the floor - screaming for them to stop as Eren rubs circles into your back. 

Your chest twinges, as she hands the pictures back, and you tuck them back into the box. 

“The success after season one of Attack on Titan was pretty tremendous. You guys essentially became house names overnight. How did that feel, especially given your background? Nepotism runs deep and heavy in what we do and you seem to be one of our only outliers, here.” 

“It was horrible.” 

A shocked look spreads across her face. 

“I’m grateful for it all. Don’t get me wrong. But my life changed overnight. I-I went to school and I wasn’t treated as the same person anymore, by people I grew up with. There were people hanging around my school, waiting to take pictures of me, and-and anyone who had a chance of understanding me, they were all miles away. Filming.” 

“Did you feel that often? Comparing yourself to your co-stars?” 

“Originally, no. I-I was just happy to be there. But people, I mean. They talk. It-it kind of cemented that idea in my mind. I didn’t think it was weird that I was the only one who wasn’t filming until someone pointed it out. And-and someone always pointed these things out.” you respond. 

Colt snatches the phone from your hands, an irritated look on his face as he slides it into his pocket. After a six hour phone call with your new publicist and producers - Danny and Sareen - all you could do was aimlessly scroll through social media, their words swimming through your mind as you considered your options. 

“Quit reading that shit.” he says, making an effort to storm out of your room. He hangs by the door when he reaches it, his hands pressed against the frame. 

You shuffle under the blanket, pulling the soft fabric over your head. And a few seconds later, Colt’s pulling it off, expression a bit softer than before. 

“I-I just don’t get why you read it. What’s the point?” 

“I dunno.” 

He slides onto your bed, putting his cold legs next to yours under the blanket as you complain. 

“In my meeting with Danny and Sareen. They-they’re the new producer and the manager that reached out to me. They were saying all this stuff about how I can’t drop the ball anymore. How if I have people paying attention to me now, I-I have to keep it going.” 

Colt frowns. 

“I-I don’t know how this stuff works. What does that have to do with you reading a bunch of people saying rude stuff about you online?” 

“I told them I had time to decide, figure out what I want to do next. They said I should look online and reconsider. That if I want to be a triple threat, I-I should trust them.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah. They-they’re right. And they seem like the type to push me in the right direction, like Levi and Hange. I know they’ll do whatever to help me be the best. They want what I want.” 

Colt shrugs. And you know he doesn’t understand. 

“Let’s talk about season two. You made history this season - by being nominated for Best Actress in a Lead role among many others, becoming the most nominated actress in Institute history in one night. How did that feel? To-to do that so young?” 

“That-that was a win. It came after something really, really intense for me actually. I-I had all these feelings about what it was like to be famous. Building for months. And-and I got them put into words for me right before that happened. It was kind of like going from a really low low to the highest of highs. I-Intense is the word I’d use for it.” 

“Could you elaborate? On that?” 

You swallow hard. 

“Being famous is like living in a fishbowl. There’s-there’s glass in between you, the viewers, and me the person. And it may seem like you can see me, that you and I are the same but the glass is always between us. You enjoy on the other side, smack against the glass, sometimes even put your rods out to wring us out. We-we’re stuck there, that’s all. I realized that and found out I got nominated minutes after. But that’s this job for you. You’re at the bottom one minute and the top the next.” 

Her eyes flutter down to your tattoo but she doesn’t make a point to mention it. 

“Let’s discuss music now. Following winning Best Actress in a Drama Series, your impressive albums and tours started. You released your debut album, followed by lover girl, and then ribbons. This-this was an insane feat on your part - most artists take four to five years to produce albums at this pace. What motivated you during this time?” 

“My manager and my producer are pushing me at every step.” 

She smiles. 

“That’s some support system.” 

“That’s not the word I would use for it.” you respond, voice cutting.

She nods. 

“That’s right. Following your last performance, rumors were flying around that you had fired Danny and Sareen, your beloved manager and producer. Is this true?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why, if I may ask?” 

“I just told you. They were pushing me at every step.” 

You sigh, looking down at your hands, knotting your fingers together. One of the first things, you could come under fire for, is talking about them, so bluntly the way you are. 

“I looked up to them. My previous example from my mentors - Hange and Levi - was perfect. Almost too perfect. Because of them, because of how willing they were to support me, to defend me, I thought everyone was like that. I thought every person who was willing to be on my team was taking into account that I didn’t know much about the industry and pushing me in the right direction.”

“And that wasn’t true for them?” 

You take a deep breath. 

“I think they used that to their advantage. That I had a blind faith in them. That I wanted to please them, to please other people. I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to put out three records, to do world tours that fast. I didn’t know that it was insane that I forgot to eat some days, I didn’t know that it was crazy that they were waking me up after two hours of sleep to put me to work. I-I thought that it was all part of the hustle.” 

“How do you feel about it now? Having fired them?” 

“I-I don’t regret what they’ve done for me. I-I am thankful to them. If anything, I’m more embarrassed of what they did make me do. Why I didn’t think twice on things they asked me to do, songs they convinced me to write.” 

She looks intrigued. She knows she’s getting into the good stuff. 

“Songs like?” 

“London Boy.” you respond. 

“That brings us to Ricky James. Are you saying that you didn’t write London Boy?” 

“No. No, I wrote it. But I was asked to write it the way I did. Write a love song about him.” 

“Because?” 

“Press. It’ll get people to talk. People get bored of the same thing over and over again after years.” you respond, repeating Danny and Sareen’s words, about Eren. 

You sigh. 

“It’s embarrassing to admit that I did that. Pretend just to get people to listen to my music. I-I am ashamed of it.” 

“It’s okay. We-we understand.” 

“I don’t think you do.” you whisper. 

You can feel the tears pricking your eyes. 

“I-I regret it. It’s a horrible thing to do. Especially when, when you have real love and you give it up to pretend. And it’s humiliating to pretend, to see people coo over you and a guy you barely even know. But when you’re famous, when people are telling you this is what you have to do, when this is what everyone does, it doesn’t seem like much to give up. I-I could feel the shame crawling in my skin when I look back at it now.” 

You swallow down the regret, thick in your throat. 

“How so?” 

“The night my album premiered, Ribbons. In the past, all my best friends, they-they’d come to listen with me. Throw me a party, press kisses to my cheeks. I turned them all down that year. It’s one thing to pretend to everyone you know. It’s another thing to do it to people who know better. Who know what you’re doing. I didn’t want to pretend in front of their faces. ” 

“Speaking of that night. Could you speak on this?”

She sides the picture, the one the paparazzi took of you on the curb before Lana got to you, towards you. You pick it up and look at it - at your eyes pinched shut and your drenched hair. 

“It’s simple. Ricky James started liking me. Asked me out. I said no. And then he locked me out in the rain.” 

You see the discomfort spread across her face as she slides the picture back. 

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. But you came out of it at the top, with your hit featuring Lana Price. Was she part of your support system during that time?” 

You smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can’t sleep?” 

You look up from the shelves you were currently pawing through to find Lana, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes, as she walks over to where you’re standing. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted water but I couldn't find the glasses.” 

She smiles as she wraps her hand around your wrist and leads you to the other side of the kitchen, taking a glass out of the correct cabinet and filling it up for you. You both lean against the counter, illuminated by the fridge of the kitchen light in the dark kitchen. 

And suddenly you’re crying again, wet, warm tears falling down the length of your face. At the thought of where you were four nights ago - running in the rain until she picked you up. You aggressively wipe the tears off of your cheeks as she catches on. And Lana, despite this being the second time having met you, is quick to pull you into her arms, the sweet strawberry smell of hers filling your nose. 

“You smell like candy.” 

“Don’t go biting me now.” 

You laugh, pressing against her arms harder as your tears fall onto her shoulder, trying to muffle your sobs by clamping your mouth shut. 

“Eren told me. About Colt.” 

She pulls back, wiping the tears off your cheek as she talks, softly. 

“You’ll get better at doing this. Protecting them. I can almost guarantee it.” she says, giving you a smile. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I did it. Which means you can too.” she responds, placing her glass of water in your hands. 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Yes, it is. I’ll help you. Eren will help you.” she responds. 

“You’re already doing enough for me. Both of you. I’m intruding on your house right now.” 

You feel two hands, warm, around your neck, accompanied with a light squeeze. And then Eren, his voice still raspy from sleep, whispering in your ear. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Say that again and I’ll kill you. What’s mine is yours.” he responds, sliding his hands off of you as he pushes the fridge door closed and opens the light. 

Lana groans. 

“God. Would it kill you to put a shirt on, ugly?” 

“Would it kill you to brush your hair, you hag? Or maybe not wake me up in the middle of the night?” 

“That wasn’t even me. Y/N woke up first!” 

“It was your croaking that woke me up, Lana. You sound like a toad.” he mutters. 

You laugh, which breaks the two of them out of their argument, and has soft smiles spreading across both of their faces. 

“You guys are like siblings.” 

Lana comes over, hands cupping your face. 

“My sweet, sweet Y/N. Please don’t insult me.” 

And then Eren’s behind you, arms slithering around your waist, his voice warm in your ear again. 

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, princess.” 

“Quit flirting, Eren. You’re such a manwhore.” Lana says. 

“Princess was her nickname on set, dumbass. Because she’s a pop princess. I’m not flirting.” Eren responds, 

“Wow. So you’re too good to flirt with Y/N. You think you’re better than her?” 

“What?” Eren asks, leaning off of you. 

Catching on to what Lana’s trying to do, you turn around and look at Eren, trying to hide your coy expression. 

“Do you really think that, Eren?” 

His eyes go wide, hands on your shoulders. 

“No! No, oh my god! I don’t think I’m better than you. If anything, you-you’re better than me. I’ll flirt with you all you want. I swear!” 

You and Lana stare him down for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, a pink spreading across Eren’s cheek as he grumbles, an irritated look on his face as he shoves past Lana. 

“You guys are annoying. I’m going back to bed.” 

“Aw, Eren! Come back! Flirt with her!” Lana says, teasing him on. 

“Don’t stay down here too, Y/N. You’re going to lose brain cells.” he murmurs, shuffling away. 

You turn back to Lana, who's filling your glass with water again. She has a soft smile on her face, eyes warm as she hands you the water. 

“This type of stuff…it really helps.” she says. 

“This type of stuff?” 

“Good people. Who want to take care of you. Make you laugh after you cry, all that cheesy stuff.” 

You hum, leaning against the counter again. 

“Lean on Eren. Don’t get so jumbled up on what it means and how he’s feeling because he just wants to be there for you.” she says. 

“I’m trying to. I guess I just feel bad.” 

“I would have benefited a lot from someone like Eren, if I knew him when I was younger. When I was-” 

You quirk your head to the side, beckoning for her to elaborate. 

“For the longest time, I thought that this is just how guys were. Assholes. Dicks. That it was a matter of finding one who was relatively nice, good enough. That real guys, they’re never like this.” 

You frown. 

“My dad was an asshole. Ricky was horrible. My brother was the only person who was nice to me but we just- we lived so far and with the jobs and stuff we grew apart. And when I had to deal with things on my own, things I was too young to even understand, I-” 

She pauses. Swallowing hard. 

“I would have benefitted from knowing Eren earlier. Guys like Eren, like your friends Jean and Marco. Eren’s helped with a lot of my shame and made me better. I-I owe a lot to him really. I know we said what we said earlier, but he is like my brother. He’s always protected me. Overwhelmed me with kindness under insults.” 

You smile. 

“He’s a good guy. Always has been.” you whisper, heart warm at Eren being Eren, still. 

“So let him. Overwhelm you with kindness. Be there for you. You have no reason to be ashamed. And every reason to be scared. Quit feeling bad and just let him. He’s the person you’re comfortable with here.” 

You smile, leaning your head against your shoulder. 

“Dunno. You’re pretty cool too.” 

She laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know what would be cool. If you guys went to bed.” Eren says, shuffling into the room again. 

Lana groans. 

“All men have is the audacity. You just ruined a really sweet moment.” 

You smile at Eren, which he returns. 

“Can Lana sleep with us?” 

He stops smiling. 

“Huh?” 

“You sleep on the left and she can sleep on my right!” you respond. 

“Y/N.” he whines. 

“Please? It’ll be like a sleepover. I can’t have bad things on my mind before I go to bed if you’re both there.”

“No thanks, sweet girl.” Lana says. 

“I’m trying to lean on you guys! Give in.” you respond. 

They both groan as they agree, the three of you shuffling towards Eren’s room. You settle straight into the middle of Eren’s bed, as they both shuffle around - loudly talking in Eren’s bathroom. 

“Ew, Eren. Why did you just kiss my cheek? I’m not Y/N, idiot.” 

“That was for you, Lana Bear!”  

“What pervert spirit possessed you at this time of night? And you know how I feel about that nickname after what Hyla said to me at dinner, so shut up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lana. And I just wanted you to know I love you too. You’re like a sister to me.” 

You hear Lana smack Eren. 

“Were you eavesdropping? Asshole. I was lying. None of it was true.” 

“Okay, Lana. Sure thing.” 

“I’m serious!” 

You shake the memory from your head, as you pull out the picture for her to see, one of you and Lana that Eren took. You’re both on his couch, your hands tangled in the bowl of popcorn - glaring at the camera. Eren was blocking your rewatch of High School Musical. 

“Speaking of support systems, one of your most talked about relationships is that with your co-star, Historia Reiss. After seemingly dropping songs about each other and making up and breaking up, there’s a lot of speculation on what happened. Anything to share?” 

You smile. 

“Historia and I are friends. And friendship is complicated. You just got to witness ours first hand, that’s all. Everything between us - it’s water under the bridge, if there ever even was one. We’re just really similar and we butt heads. We still love each other at the end of the day.” you say. 

“Well that’s lovely to hear. How about Ryomen Sukuna? The two of you are all anyone talks about these days, especially after how cozy you two were on the red carpet.” 

You snort. And pull out the polaroid - of you and Sukuna, of him kissing your cheek at the awards show. And in the background, Nobara and Maki are pretending to gag. 

“We’re not dating. And we won’t ever. We’re just really good friends.” 

“Friends kiss each other on red carpets?” 

“These ones do!” you respond, smiling. 

She laughs, nodding as you tuck the picture back into the box. She swallows hard, rubbing her hands against her palms as she asks her next question. The one you know she’s been itching to ask. 

“Look. We’ve talked about your career at great length - all but caught up to the night that you became a triple threat. But there’s one person that we haven’t discussed yet, maybe brought up in passing but haven’t broached. Who I think is relevant.” 

You smile. 

“Eren.” 

“Eren.” she repeats, nodding. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“I mean, everything. How did it feel to know that you finally got him back for what he did to you, the way he dragged your career through the mud. I mean you basically had him hanging his head between his knees by the end of the night, after you ended him. Throwing his relationship with his brother in his face, the songs you wrote, I mean- that. That has to be liberating. To do all that and come out as a triple threat at the end.” 

You can feel the tears spilling down your cheeks as you take your last picture out, one of you and Eren at Levi and Hange’s vow renewal. You’re leaning your head on your palm, looking up at him as he smiles down at you. And you swallow the hiccups as you respond. 

“In what world did that night seem liberating to you? Making a joke out of the love I shared with someone? I sobbed my way through the entire last song. Didn’t even make a speech. In what world was that liberating?” 

You see the shock spread across her face. 

“I just thought-” 

You smile. 

“Since we were fifteen, all people have done is speculate about me and Eren. Are we dating? Are we in love? Are we real? Are we faking? And therein lies the issue, because I think the people, the fame - it came between something really real.” 

She stops, nodding. 

“Something real? Are you telling us that Eren Jaeger lied in his interview?” 

“I don’t know his truth. Maybe it was fake for him. But I was there too.....And it was real for me.” 

You look down at the picture, fiddling with it in your hands. 

“I-I’d like to sing my song, if I could. I-I think it’ll help explain how I feel.” you say. 

She nods, gesturing to the piano. You sit at the seat, sneaking out the vinyl sleeve from the inside of the bench and pull it out. The album cover is a picture of the cast from season one of Attack on Titan. You and Eren are front and center, smiling at each other instead of the camera, everyone’s heads going in different directions. Jean and Mikasa are looking at something to the left and pointing, Ymir is smiling at Historia who is disgusted at Connie and Sasha plugging their fingers in each other's nose. 

“This is my fourth and final studio album, called The Lucky One. And this is my first song on the record, called happiness.” 

You brace your hands against the keys, playing the tune into the air as you sing. The feeling sits deep in your chest. Your realization was simple. That Historia’s statement - that your Eren wasn’t the Eren that existed anymore - is true. You just chose to focus on the wrong part of it.

You loved Eren and he made you happy. He burned you down, hurt you in the way that only he knew how, but loved you, made you whole in only the way he could too. There's a deep hurt. 

But there was great happiness. It’s why you forgive him. Why you choose to move forward, and hold whatever love you did have close. 

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

There is happiness In our history Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight Leave it all behind Oh, leave it all behind Leave it all behind And there is happiness 

You wipe the tears off of your face as you turn back towards the camera. 

“Eren Jaeger is the love of my life. He’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. He’s kind, he’s sensitive, he’s all too willing to understand you. Too willing to meet you where you are, as you are, and look past all the bad parts of you.” 

You stifle your sob, the tears pouring out of your eyes. You glance back at the picture of you and Eren at the piano. And the memory sticks out in your head. 

“I love you.” 

You look over at Eren, his green eyes gentle and heartfelt as he takes your hand and squeezes three times. 

“Eren, you-” 

“I love you. The three squeezes - that’s what they’ve always meant.” he whispers, his hand warm in yours as me mimics the motion you’ve done a hundred times. 

You swallow hard. 

“Eren Jaeger is the love in the room. He gives people a chance, even when he shouldn’t. He’s supportive, so incessantly adamant about his belief in you, that you believe in yourself too. He loves hard, he loves soft, and everything in between.” 

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met. Until he wasn’t anymore. And I-I don’t know what they did to him. If they pumped him full of drugs, if they told him something about this industry that I’m unaware of, if-if it was something about me. But this Eren Jaeger, so full of love that it was almost spilling out of him, doesn’t exist anymore. He was real. But he’s not like this anymore.” 

You swallow hard. 

“This career, the way we live in our fishbowl. It-it’s so cruel. You all enjoyed watching me ruin him. You all enjoyed watching him ruin me. You liked that we spent our entire lives loving each other and maybe loved it even more when it came crashing down. It was interesting to speculate on, to talk about. You saw the softest love in us. In him. And then gutted it out of him like he was a fish.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“And with that, I quit.” 

The interviewer sits up, hand on your shoulder at the piano bench as the shock spreads across her face. 

“You’re quitting music?” 

“I’m quitting all of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. You already got to have him. You don’t get to have me too.” 

You give her a smile as you turn to the camera, before walking straight off of the set and into the waiting room outside. 

--

You sit on the bench outside, swinging your legs as you watch the people around you move. They’re all rushing to air the tape, which you expected. And making flash copies of the vinyl you gifted them, getting ready to post them online as the interview goes out. 

Figures. 

The only person who comes to your side is Leila. 

“HI.” you say, cheeks burning from the tears and your eyes swollen. 

She hands you the blue box, the one they hid behind the couch at the start, and shakes her head. 

You give her a strange look as you open up the box, filled with a large stack of letters. You reach for the one at the top, opening the pages to find Eren’s messy handwriting scribbled on the pages. 

Dear The Institute (I don’t know if you’re a person or like someone specific I’m just writing a letter to the address Levi gave me),  My name is Eren Jaeger. I’m fifteen, the son of Carla and Grisha Jaeger. I’m going to be in a new show called Attack on TItan. But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I want to tell you about my friend, my best friend.  Her name is Y/N L/N. She’s going to be my co-star in the show. You haven’t heard of her yet but I promise you won’t forget her. And I’ll make sure you won’t. Because I’m telling you now, she’s the next big thing. And you’re going to make her a triple threat.  I’ll spend this entire time convincing you until you do. But she’s amazing. It won’t take much.  You will hear from me again, Eren Jaeger

You pull another page out, opening up the crinkled pages, the block sitting in your throat. 

Hi (Can you tell me your name? It feels weird to call you The Institute. Like that’s almost dystopian.)  It’s Eren, again. Y/N is going to perform her song, New Year’s Day at the award show tomorrow. It’s her first one and it’s perfect. Like genuinely, who the fuck makes a hit song on the first try?  And even after making something great, she’s trying to be better. She doesn’t like to play the piano, but she tries anyway. Every time I try to teach her, she’s hanging on the ends of my words, trying over and over again until she’s satisfied.  She works very hard. I’m asking you to not overlook that.  See you soon (and when’s your birthday? We’re basically becoming friends at this point.)  Eren Jaeger 

You flip the pages, again. 

Good morning/good afternoon/good evening (covering all my bases, I don’t know where you live),  Now, don’t start discrediting what I’m saying as biased because of the rumors.  Granted, they are true. I adore Y/N with my entire heart. I love her with every fiber of my being. But that doesn’t discredit any of her work or how I’m vouching for it. Because she truly is amazing.  Her new movie is coming out on Saturday and her album on Sunday. Quit being assholes and give her this award already.  She deserves it. Really.  My deepest apologies (for calling you assholes and for bothering you all these years),  Eren Jaeger 

And again. 

Hi,  We broke up. And we don’t really talk much anymore. But the fact that I’m still writing this to you should be proof enough for you to at least CONSIDER her as a triple threat.  Like seriously. We aren’t even dating and I’m still raving about her work (because it’s that good).  Her new movie comes out soon.  She is all things great. The sun, the moon, the stars and everything in between. The light in the dark, every cheesy thing you can think of.  Art is a reflection of who you are. And her art has always been the best.  For the love of god, give in already,  Eren Jaeger. 

And the last one, despite being the shortest one, is what hurts the most. Dated for the day after the awards show, what you assume is barely hours after Eren was sobbing during your performance. 

Dear The Institute,  Thank you for listening. And for making her dream come true.  Best,  Eren Jaeger 

You hold the letters close to your chest as you cry into the box, nearly twenty or thirty pages you still haven’t read. Of Eren, his messy handwriting, and his endless love for you. 

His words ring in your mind. They don’t make any sense and none of it does. You didn’t have any faith in me like I did you. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star.  I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.

You sit up from the bench and walk out the door with the box in your hand. You find Falco and Colt standing on the curb against the car, soft smiles on their faces as they push you into the car. And take you where no one gets to touch you, suck you dry, push you too hard, take what you love most away from you ever again. 

Your most haunted memory sticks out to you as you drive away. As you feel the physical weight of this life be left behind on that piano and let him go. 

The waves continue to crash, Eren’s hand raking through your fingers as you both look up at the moon, shining above you. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, Eren?” 

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?” 

You curl your nose in disgust. 

“When would I have time to go skinny dipping, Eren? And if I did, you would have known.” 

Eren turns on his side, a bright smile on his face. 

“Let’s do it.” 

“What?” 

“Skinny dipping.” 

“Eren. Quit being ridiculous.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“I just turned twenty-two. Like fifteen minutes ago. I am the pinnacle of seriousness.” he states, putting on his best Erwin-like tone. 

“Eren.” 

“Come on. It’s like a quintessential experience. We don’t get those - prom, memorizing your crush’s classes and waiting outside them, going on a date in the city. Let’s do this one.” 

You nod as you both trudge to the shore, hands locked together as you quickly lose your clothes and run into the water, biting cold against your skin. The Seattle cold does nothing to help, the two of you shivering in each other's arms as you hold each other in the water. 

“Ttt-this was a sss-stuppid idea, Er-rren.” you shiver, glaring at him. 

“It-it’s ff-un.” he responds. 

You groan as he pulls you into his arms, your face flat against his neck as you guys hug in the water. You can feel his heart beating under your ear and you pull back to find him smiling at you, his hair matted against his forehead. You reach forward and push it out of his eyes. 

“Thanks.” he whispers. 

You nod, giving him a smile. He’s all but grinning at you, the smile on his face so big that it’s throwing you off. 

“Eren. What?” 

“Nothing. You.” 

“Me?” 

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Just trying to remember this moment. You and me - being real people.” 

“You sound like a crazy person.” 

“You’re not a pop star. I’m not an actor. You’re Y/N and I’m Eren. We’re skinny dipping. And I love you.” 

You turn your head to the side, confused by his sentiment all together. 

It makes sense to you now. 

--

Almost a year and a half later and you’re nervously running your sweaty hands against the pleats of your black dress. You half debate walking in, even though you flew all this way. If there’s still a place for you in this townhouse, even though you all but grew up here. 

You can hear a loud chatter on the inside, voices talking over each other as you think hard, every regret of yours running through your mind. You wonder if they replaced you already, if your doppelganger is walking around in there.

As always, this is what brings you back to them. All of them. And you hate it. Because as always, they are the only ones who understand. They are the only ones who feel it too. 

You’re fish. On the same side of the glass, separated from everyone else. 

You supposed that’s what it does to people. That being fish, to some extent, was something everyone related to - not just you and Eren, Mikasa and Jean, everyone else who was famous.

This tears down things that were a resolute fact - bringing you to places you never thought you’d return, to people you didn’t think you would ever need anymore. A fishbowl - separating you from everyone else on one side of the glass, with everyone else - normal and whole - on the outside.

Fame can do that to people. But grief can too.

The news clip rings in your head. 

. 

. 

. 

Marco Bodt, best known for his time as a recurring character in the drama series Attack on Titan, died on Friday, five days short of his twenty-fourth birthday. 

You brace yourself and knock on the door of the townhouse. Eren’s the one who answers.

--

next part linked here

an: lol. so does "passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long" still apply if he's dead....thoughts? also the lucky one tracklist

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 @justanotherkpopstanlo l@mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

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siren song ||| - xavier thorpe

requested: yes! requests: open! siren song part three!

part one, part two click here for my masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for the overwhelming love! i never expected this to blow up, but i couldn't have done it without the person also requesting this! thank you all and i hope you enjoy the next chapter <3 like last time it picks up immediately where the other chapter ended! let me know what you think and enjoy! <3

wordcount: 4,581 warnings: she/her reader, some cursing, sad xavier

Ajax tells Xavier about what happened. Xavier takes everything into his own hands, which may or may not include sneaking into your room. He finds out the truth.

Ajax awkwardly lets out a laugh. He had a list with answers in his head with a correct response to it, but this one was not on the list.

"What do you mean? Xavier. Your best friend?"

You furrow your brows, shaking your head. The name 'Xavier' is not extremely common, definitely not in a small town like Jericho. Besides, you would know your own best friends, right?

"Ajax, I think you have been smoking too much. I know no one by the name of Xavier."

He looks at you like you have grown an extra head. Are you joking right now, or are you dead serious? You look just as confused as him, and you aren't really the best actress. It is already hard for you to keep a birthday gift a secret, so acting as if someone does not exist at all would be impossible.

"I- What?" The Gorgon shakes his head. "I might be wrong then. Don't worry about it."

The two of you return to your own tasks. You are still doing your Botany homework while Ajax sits and stares off into nothingness.

His head is a jumbled mess. Do you really not remember your best friend? Xavier told him what happened, but he wanted to hear it from you as well. Not that he thought Xavier was lying about what he had said, but just because he wanted to make sure you were doing okay.

It was truly strange, though. Yes, you had a big fight with Xavier, but ignoring someone and forgetting someone is a whole other fact. Not to mention that you didn't even so much react to the name.

Xavier needs to hear this.

-

"Dude!"

Ajax runs through the door as Xavier lets out a yelp, dropping his pencil to the floor. It's late at night already, does he not realize most people are sleeping already?

"Ajax, you can't just burst in at eleven pm?! You're lucky I don't have a roommate anymore-"

"Listen," he closes the door behind him, sitting down on the empty bed that once belonged to Rowan while catching his breath. "Dude, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. "

Xavier picks up the pencil from the ground, placing it on his sketchbook before closing it. The sketch was of you. For the last few weeks, he has drawn nothing other than you. Memories he has with you, things you have done together, and even only some half-finished sketches.

"What could possibly be so important right now-"

"Y/N forgot about you."

Xavier straightens his back, his eyes big as he looks at his friend. He has to be kidding right?

"That can't be," Xavier lets out a breathy laugh. "I would have expected her to ignore me, yes, but how can she forget me?"

"I thought she was kidding at first. I asked her what happened at the Rave'n and she said nothing about it," Ajax rolls off of the bed, pacing around the room. "And I thought that the fight would be something she would mention. Then I asked specifically what happened between you and her, but all she asked was 'Who is Xavier?'!"

The boy is at a loss for words. It is like every single word is pulled out of his head, replaced by a pounding headache.

"Are you sure? She- She is not the best actress, was it really not fake?"

Ajax shakes his head, breathing in deeply before rubbing his hands on his face.

"Nothing. Nada. If you even got close to guessing what a gift was going to be she would always immediately tell us, right? She didn't even flinch when I said your name. And then she told me she has never, ever met someone with the name Xavier."

The Gorgon places a hand on his friend's shoulder, slightly squeezing it before letting go again. Neither of them has any idea of what to do.

"I'll just try again," Xavier whispers. "Worst case scenario is that she genuinely doesn't want to talk again. I- Thank you, Ajax."

"Take it easy, okay?"

After a goodbye he exits the room, leaving the artist stuck in his own dorm. Only he and his thoughts. Thoughts seem to be racing through his head as his heart is pounding against his chest. He was a total asshole, but he just hopes that you still hear him out.

-

"Hey, Bianca?"

The Siren had placed herself on your bed, flipping through a magazine. The room had been quiet for a bit, only the sound of your laptop, pages flipping, and the soft instrumental music in the background. Bianca hums, looking up from the paper.

"I was in the library with Ajax," you slowly say, your leg bouncing up and down. "And... He said something really weird."

Fuck.

She should have known that Xavier and Ajax were going to be up to something. It's not like she didn't notice Xavier trying to talk to you. He tactically counted the seconds on when he should stand up just to be close to you, even bump into you if he had to. But the Song made it so you kept your distance.

A pen floats in front of your face as you try to distract yourself. You didn't use your telekinesis a lot, but your mind has not been on your laptop anyway.

"Oh?" Bianca raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you mumble before suddenly turning around on your chair, facing your friend. "Who is Xavier?"

"Xavier?"

You nod as the pen behind you falls back on your desk. You have not been able to get the name out of your head, repeating it over and over again to try and find some memory attached to him.

Bianca bites her cheeks. Is she to tell you? Or should it be kept a secret? Before the Siren Song, you did not really talk about it. But Bianca wouldn't hold the truth from you. She only wants to protect you from him, something you consented to.

"Xavier is," Bianca hesitates. "A student here at Nevermore. He did something incredibly stupid and dumb."

"Do I know him?"

She doesn't want to cause you any distress. She can say no, but then once the Siren Song breaks, it would only be worse. If she says yes, then you might go seeking answers.

"You used to."

-

Bianca didn't say much more after that. In a way, she was completely honest. She did tell you that you used to know him, but you had made your intentions very clear. Forget about Xavier and just have a moment of peace and quiet to yourself. It had worked for weeks now, yet Xavier doesn't feel like he has changed one bit.

During class, he still tries to get your attention, but Kent and Bianca are quick to shut him down. Kent doesn't know about the Siren Song, though. No, if he did, then the entire school would have heard it already. He just thinks that you want to stay out of Xavier's way, still mad because of the fight. It is true, in a way.

You were quiet the entire day. Not quite sulking, but you were thinking. Why is it that you can't recall anything about him? You even sneak some glances at the long-haired boy. He seems... Miserable. His eyes are dark, his eyebrows are stuck in a frown, and his hair is just messily placed in a small bun. He does not look bad, but just upset.

Even during lunch, you didn't really say a word. You insisted that you just needed some time and that your social battery was dead. But Bianca knew you were thinking about Xavier. If he just had not pulled this, everything would have been fine. She hasn't heard anyone talk about a Siren Song though, so he doesn't know the truth just yet.

Another few days go by before it is finally Friday again. For the entire week, Xavier had been trying to talk to you, but you have always hurried away from him. Not to mention that especially Bianca and Kent almost formed a wall around you. But Xavier also isn't the person to start drama in the entire Quad. So he waited. Patiently waited. During this time, he came up with a plan. Was it smart? Probably not. But this was the only time he could talk to you.

It is well after ten, which meant that everyone had to stay in their dorms. But Xavier had other ideas. He had sneaked out, running through the halls and out into the side of Nevermore. Your balcony had a fire escape, one that he used quite often to sneak in or out when he would hear Thornhill coming. It is a bit too dangerous to walk through those halls right now, especially considering he might wake people up. He doesn't have the patience to take his time right now, wanting to reach you as fast as possible.

He runs up the long flight of stairs, catching his breath once he finally reaches the top. He thought that running would make this a bit easier, but it doesn't seem to work too well. Your window is similar as to the one in Enid and Wednesday's dorm. It has the same spiderweb-like pattern, though yours is missing the colorful stickers on it.

Your side of the room is decorated with lots of smaller lights. The lightbulbs in the Nevermore lights seem to be dim, and you always insisted that the smaller lights looked more fun anyway. He stands in front of the window, trying to look through the glass.

"Y/N? Are you in there?"

Nothing. At least, no response from you. He can hear the clicking of your keyboard.

"I know you're still mad at me," he says again. "And I totally understand it. I have been wanting to talk to you, but Bianca and Kent always stand between us."

Nothing, again.

He looks behind him to make sure no one followed him before he pushes the bottom of the window, opening it before sneaking in.

There you sit.

It is like this is the first time he has ever seen you. At least, it feels like it. You are sitting with your back towards him, your head moving to the music that sounds through the headphones on your head. It was a gift that Xavier had gotten you for your birthday.

You had been planning to buy a new one for a while, but it was hard to save up money. So, he decided to go with you to the closest store to try some out. You had fallen in love with these, but they were quite expensive. So, as you had already walked out of the store, Xavier had quickly paid for them, hiding them in his backpack before giving them to you on your birthday.

You were even wearing his burgundy-colored t-shirt. You must remember him then, right? He slowly walks over to you, tapping you on your shoulder before he aggressively gets thrown against a wall. Ouch.

You turned around in shock, seeing the boy pinned against the wall.

"Oh!" You exclaim, immediately releasing him from your invisible grip. "I'm sorry-"

You squint at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait a second," you point at him. "There are no boys allowed in Ophelia Hall. And definitely, no boys that I don't know!"

Xavier stands back up, a pained expression on his face before he shakes his head.

"I just needed to talk to you for a sec, and you know what happened the last time Thornhill saw me in the halls."

Actually, you didn't.

"You have never been in my room."

You stand opposite the tall boy, looking him up and down. He feels familiar to you, and you are guessing that this is the 'Xavier' that Ajax and Bianca had mentioned. He licks his lips before letting out a deep breath.

"Look, Y/N, I know that you are still mad at me, but-"

"The only reason why I would be mad is because a stranger randomly showed up in my dorm room!"

His shoulders slump as he looks at you. Not one part of you recognizes him.

"Well, ever since the Rave'n and the fight we haven't spoken. I know that I was very, very wrong for doing that to you and you deserve much better," he runs his hands through his hair. "But I really need to apologize."

"Xavier, is it?" You awkwardly laugh. "I think you are mistaken. I don't recall seeing you at the dance, much less having a fight. I'm sorry?"

Should you say sorry? Surely he must recognize the person he had a fight with, and it wasn't you. His heart slowly chips away at itself, less and less connected to each other once he truly realizes you don't remember him.

"You truly don't remember, do you?"

His voice breaks a bit as he starts fiddling with his hands. You look up at the boy, feeling quite bad for him. He does look truly confused and stressed.

"No," you grimace. "Sorry. Truly."

"Nothing? Not even from the Rave'n or- or before that?"

"Everything I remember from the Rave'n is dancing, drinking some of those weird, blue drinks, and then that disgusting paint drenching everyone. After that, I just went to my dorm to try and get all of that out of my clothes and hair." You shrug, still looking up at him. "The only thing I did after, was hanging out with Bianca and sleeping."

There really is not one bit of you that remembers him. Or, you have just become a really good actress overnight. He did really hurt you, but he didn't think you would actually forget him. Xavier pulls on his scarf, coughing awkwardly as he nods.

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm really sorry, Xavier," you look at your window which is still slightly open. "Look, you are very pretty and you must also be super nice, but I think it is better if you leave. I hope you find the person you were looking for."

He nods silently, climbing back out of the window before descending the stairs, not once looking back.

The way back through Nevermore is slower. He doesn't feel the need to hurry anymore. Ajax was absolutely right. There was not one memory of Xavier left in you. Not even when you see him up close, when you smell the perfume he always wears, not even when you wear one of his shirts that he left behind.

Did a witch cast a spell on you, leaving you without any memories of him? There are witches at Nevermore, so it isn't unlikely. But how can it be that you remember everyone except for him? Ajax, Wednesday, Kent, Bianca-

Bianca.

If you recall going to the girl after the Rave'n, then that must be the whole reason why you forgot about Xavier.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groans, picking up his pace before sneaking into the dorms where Bianca sleeps.

He should have known it. Bianca and you had gotten closer after he screamed at you, but he thought it was because you needed someone to talk to. After all, he turned to Ajax to talk about his problems. But, Bianca has one thing that not a lot of others at Nevermore have; the Siren Song.

He doesn't want to accuse her of having used it, the last time it ended badly. But he does want to know if she had anything to do with it.

Once he reaches Bianca's dorm, he knocks on the door. Not softly, either. He doesn't care if someone sees him now.

The Siren opens the door, an annoyed look on her face which turns even more annoyed when she sees Xavier. She expected him to show up sooner or later, and today was finally the moment.

"Do you not realize that it's almost twelve?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Just let me in," he groans.

Xavier is not here to play games. He wants, no, needs the truth. He needs to hear it, because if it isn't the Song, then he doesn't know what else it could be. Bianca steps to the side, closing the door behind him before crossing her arms.

"What do you want, Xavier?"

"Did you use your Siren Song on Y/N?"

"Why would I tell you?" She raises an eyebrow.

She just walks past him, back to sitting on her bed and scrolling through her phone. Xavier only stares at her, at a loss for words.

"I'm serious, Bianca. Just give me a yes or a no."

"Hm," she hums. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

The boy stays quiet, only looking at the girl. Please, just a simple answer. That is all he needs.

"To be completely ignored by someone you like?" She stands back up with a smirk on her face, throwing her phone on her bed before stepping closer to Xavier. "That, no matter how hard you try, she doesn't even bat an eye at you? Much less say your name?"

"What do you mean?" He grits his teeth. "Just give me an answer."

A smirk is still on her face as she shrugs. She has no need to tell him. Besides, he deserves it. He deserves to suffer, just in the same way you did. No matter how much she believes he has feelings for you; he has to find it out himself.

"Come on, Xavier," she lets out a sigh. "I will not help you if you don't get your head out of your ass."

"Bianca, please."

She takes a good look at the guy in front of her. He might be extremely stupid, but she can't help but feel bad for him. Yes, he is the entire reason that you had felt bad for weeks, and though she still thinks that he has to learn a lesson, he might need the truth.

"Fine," the Siren grits her teeth. "After the Rave'n, she came to my room. Like, right after your fight. Asked me to use my Siren Song and I told her that I would think about it."

She steps away from Xavier, pulling the piece of paper that you had previously signed out of her desk drawer.

"Then I saw how miserable she looked and how much you ignored her," Bianca points at Xavier, holding up the piece of paper. "So, with Y/N's permission, I used it."

This was everything he was scared of. He knew he was wrong, he knew he had to make things right, but he had no idea how bad he had gotten.

"You have to undo it, Bianca. I'm serious."

"Why?" She raises an eyebrow. "So you can go ahead and break her heart again by hanging out with the psycho?"

"No!" He exclaims, running his hands through his hair while letting out a sigh. "So I can make it up to her! I just-"

He paces around the room, fiddling with his fingers and pulling on his scarf. He still had not discarded his winter jacket, he simply couldn't be bothered.

"I really like her, Bianca."

"Then tell me why you ignored her."

Xavier doesn't have one reason. It might be because he truly believed you didn't like him back, he could have been too insecure, maybe because he got pulled into Wednesday's theories about some monster, or maybe he was just a total asshole.

It stays quiet for a good minute. Bianca then just places the paper back in its original place, leaning against her desk before looking up at the boy.

"I'll ask her," she mumbles. "I'm not promising you anything. I only do this because I know she likes you. You better get your shit together, Xavier. Now, get out of my dorm."

-

It was Saturday which meant that you went to Jericho. This time, you went with Enid, Wednesday, and Bianca. You and Enid tried to keep some distance between Wednesday and Bianca, knowing they aren't best friends. Even though Jericho is not a big town, it still has enough little stores to explore.

At one point, Enid had dragged Bianca with her, leaving you together with Wednesday outside of Weathervane. You sat on the little bench, just in silence as Wednesday was reading a book and you were sketching in a small little notebook.

"I want to ask you a question."

You look up from your sketch, looking at Wednesday.

"Sure!"

"What happened between you and Xavier?"

You raise an eyebrow, shrugging.

"I don't know why everyone keeps asking that. Nothing, I think?"

Wednesday doesn't seem to believe it. She has an eye for lies, not to mention that she is talented at finding out the truth. Most of the time, that is.

"You can not believe that that will fool me. Xavier has only been sulking for the last few weeks. He is living up to the whole tortured artist thing."

"Well, I hope he gets better soon. But I had nothing to do with it, Wednesday. Really."

"What are you girls talking about?"

Enid suddenly jumps out, a big smile on her face as she holds a small bag.

"Nothing," Wednesday shakes her head before closing her book. "Let's go back. These Jericho people make me want to throw up."

-

You take your shopping bags upstairs as Bianca follows you. The two of you were going to go through everything you bought. After all the bags had been emptied and all the items were tried on again, Bianca speaks up.

"I have to talk to you about something."

What is it with everyone suddenly being so serious?

"If it is about Xavier, I truly don't know what happened. He showed up in my room, insisted on apologizing for a fight that never happened, and then left again."

"It did," Bianca grimaces. "You don't remember what you asked from me?"

You slowly shake your head. You can't really think of anything at this moment. The only thing you feel is confusion. You hadn't known anything about Xavier before you finally heard his name when he sneaked into your room.

Bianca looks at you before nodding, breathing in deeply. She has to tell you; you might have changed your mind.

"You used to know Xavier. Really well, actually."

Question marks almost appear above your head.

"He... kind of ignored you for a few weeks," Bianca looks at you. "Then stood you up again at the Rave'n. You asked me to use a Siren Song on you."

You are at a loss for words. The poor boy had spent weeks being miserable for something you didn't even remember. But, from what you understand, he had done something horrible to you too.

"Okay," you just whisper, nodding your head. "So... For a few weeks now?"

"Yeah," Bianca takes the folded piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it to you. "This is what we agreed on. I just... Wanted to check in on what your thoughts are now. You didn't really let me know about the Song ending in any way, even though we both aren't sure if it'll work."

It stays quiet for a moment as you read the letter over and over. You try hard to remember it, but it just doesn't come back up. Nothing. Nothing about Xavier, nothing about the Song, not even the good memories you had with him.

"Do you think anything changed?"

Bianca looks at you as you hold out the piece of paper to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Xavier," you mumble. "Did anything change? The Song wasn't for nothing, right? If I really used to be best friends with him..."

Did he? He did spend weeks in his art studio, sketching every single memory he had of you with him. He tried to map out exactly when to run into you, He had even broken rules to apologize to you, finally getting his jumbled thoughts straight.

"I think he did. He is well on his way. I might have tried to set him straight," she lets out a laugh. "I told him he had to get his shit together. He really cares about you, but he just doesn't know how to deal with it."

"He might need some therapy," you shake your head. "I feel like it has been long enough, right?"

"You want to undo the Song?"

You nod, sitting down on your bed while looking up at her.

"Maybe he didn't mean it. I don't remember a lot about him, it's like I have only seen him vaguely in a dream or in the background of a picture. I trust him."

"Okay," she nods, "Let's try this. But, I am not too sure if it will work."

The least you could do is try, right?

"What do you think about... 'Remember Xavier from then to now, it is no question as to how. The Siren Song will now end, old memories will now again blend.'? You will remember everything from now on top of your old memories. I hope."

"Let's do it."

The amulet gets removed from her neck as she looks at you with a gentle smile on her face. She truly does wish you the best.

"Remember Xavier from then to now, it is no question as to how. The Siren Song will now end, old memories will start to blend."

Nothing.

It stays quiet for a few seconds before you look up at Bianca who is placing the amulet around her neck again.

"Is it supposed to work immediately?"

She looks you up and down.

"Usually, yes... You don't have your memories back?"

You slowly shake your head.

"Absolutely nothing."

This is exactly what Bianca feared. Though you knew the risk was there, it still was extremely disappointing that it couldn't be changed.

"What if I start over? If Xavier and I became friends once, we might become friends again, right?"

"That is something you need to decide yourself," Bianca takes her bag in her hands. "Do what you are most comfortable with. My input? It might be worth it."

A smile is on her face as she turns around to walk out of your dorm, pausing for a second before looking back at you.

"Xavier is a good guy. Genuinely. He just needs a little push sometimes."

-

Xavier had finally laid down on his bed, his hair still wet from the shower. He had taken the hottest shower ever, trying to get his mind off of things, yet it didn't work. He was back to sketching all he could remember of you. All pages up to now were filled with your face.

When his phone buzzes, he feels like he wants to throw it around the room. He is not in the mood to talk to anyone, but he had to turn on his alarm still anyway. The light of the phone is extremely bright as he squints his eyes, trying to shield himself from the brightness. But his eyes fly open when he sees the notification that made him grab the phone in the first place.

Y/N ♡

hi xavier! could we talk soon? let me know when you have time :)

He can not believe his eyes. He immediately sits back up, typing on his phone like crazy. With shaking hands, he finally sends you a response.

xav!

yeah! any time tomorrow?

He nervously stares at his screen, seeing the notification of your typing pop up.

Y/N ♡

sure! some relaxing before the visiting week, haha :) see you tomorrow!

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

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[quaithe-seastar]

The Dragon's Gold

Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said that it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys reign. When the princes Aemon and Baelon were still children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

Warning: angst, mentions of Jaehaerys, grief, alludes to smut at the end

a/n: No beta, so I apologize for grammar and spelling mistakes. Also, if anyone wishes to be tagged in future updates, just let me know!

Aerys

Aerys rested on the soft feather bed, facing Aegon. His fingers lightly pushed loose strands of hair away from the man’s face. Aerys had been able to wake the man up just long enough to take him to bed some time ago. Aegon had demanded Aerys stay by his side. Not wishing to argue with the half-lucid man, he agreed. However, Aerys had barely slept at all. He had spent most of the night awake, at war with his mind. The murder of Jaehaerys had only further complicated things for him. He did not want to believe Nyra could do something so terrible- so horrid. But what if she had? 

Grief has a way of making people behave out of character. The overwhelming pain and sorrow of losing a child could make someone act out in ways that they later wish they hadn’t. But even then, that was not an excuse. It does not justify the murder of an innocent child. And no later regrets would restore that which has been lost.

“Aerys?” Aegon called, freeing the man from his thoughts.

“I’m still here,” he replied, moving his hand to caress Aegon’s cheek.

The sun shines on his skin, and he’s warm. Aegon’s eyes peek open as if checking to see if it was indeed Aerys beside him. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?” Aerys asks.

“For staying.”

A sad smile spreads on Aerys’ lips. “Of course.”

Aegon groaned, pulling himself up. Aerys turned away, trying to give the man some privacy as he emptied his bladder into a chamberpot. There was a knock at the door. Aerys quickly stood up from the bed, his hands furiously dusting off his clothes, trying to make himself look presentable. 

The doors pushed open, and Aerys swallowed harshly, watching the queen dowager enter the room. The woman paused, her eyes looking him up and down. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling exposed. 

“Mother,” Aegon greeted, moving over to the table in his room to pour himself a glass of wine. “To whom do we owe the pleasure?”

The woman turned her head, glaring at her eldest son, “Ser Criston Cole.”

Aegon’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardened. “Has Ser Arryk succeeded?”

The woman scoffed, “His scheme has failed. Rhaenrya still lives.”

Aerys shot Aegon a quizzical look and asked, “What scheme?”

The pair turned their heads towards him.

“He has not told you?” The woman asked patronizingly. “Ser Criston sent Ser Arryk to Dragonstone. So that he could disguise himself as his twin and slay Rhaenyra.”

“And you condoned this- this stunt?” Aerys frowned, his mind still processing the woman’s words.

Aegon turned his head, avoiding Aerys’ gaze. An uncomfortable tension arose in the air. The queen dowager glanced between the both of them.

With a loud, exasperated sigh, she said, “I shall leave you both to discuss this. Do try not to take too long. Your councilmen are waiting.”

The door closed loudly behind her, leaving the two men alone. It seemed their brief moment of respite had come to an end. Aegon leaned his head back, finishing the last of his wine, before moving to the table to refill his cup. Aerys watched him closely, waiting for him to speak. With each second that passed, he found himself growing increasingly irritated.

“Have you nothing to say?” Aerys asked, not bothering to hide the frustration in his tone.

“What would you have me say?” Aegon turned around.

Aerys found himself bewildered by the lack of interest in Aegon’s voice.

“I wish for you to speak the truth.”

“The truth?” Aegon repeated. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared as he breathed heavily through his nose. “The truth is that- that whore murdered my son!”

“No,” Aerys shook his head, turning away.

“Yes! Yes, Aerys!” Aegon growled as he marched closer. 

Aerys could feel the man standing behind him, glaring at the back of his head.

“She could not have done this.” Aerys tried to reason, more to himself than Aegon.

“Then who else?!” Aegon shouted. “Who Aerys? Tell me!”

“I-” Aerys sighed, “I do not know.”

“You do know. You just refuse to accept it.”

Aerys closed his head, dropping his head. Aegon’s words pained him greatly, but he spoke the truth, as Aerys had wanted.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Aegon sighed wearily. “You don’t believe me. You’ve already convinced yourself of her innocence. In your eyes, she is without flaw. So gracious and delicate and-”

“Aegon, please,” Aerys begged.

“No, it is true!” Aegon argued. “And in your eyes, I am what? A fool? The depraved wretch who has led poor Aerys astray.”

“No!” Aerys denied. He whirled around, trying to take Aegon by his arms.

“No,” Aegon grunted, pushing his hands away. “You’ve made it clear how little I matter to you. After all, how could I ever compare to your precious Rhaenyra?”

Aerys dropped his hands back to his sides, watching feebly as Aegon turned his back to him. Aegon walked over to the hearth, letting his body slump down in a chair. The same one that had held him as he wept over the loss of his son. 

“You’ll never choose me. You never have,” Aegon faltered.

“That is not true,” Aerys protested.

“Isn’t it?” Aegon gave a sad smile. “I have laid myself bare for you, repeatedly and every time you run from me.”

“Aegon I,” Aerys stops, lost for words.

It was like a pit had formed in his stomach- his intestines tied themselves into knots. 

“You abandoned me,” The hurt was evident in his voice. “I pleaded. I begged you to stay, but you wouldn’t. Instead, you ran off to play happy family with her on Dragonstone. For five years, you didn’t write. You never came back. You wrote me off as if I meant nothing to you.”

Aegon stared at him. His eyes held so much sadness, hurt, and betrayal. They sent a deep chill down Aerys’ spine. A powerful sadness fills his chest. It’s almost painful.

“It was not that simple, I assure you.” Aerys objected.

“I needed you,” Aegon whined. “I had no one. I just wanted my friend back.”

“I had to go,” Aerys trembled. “I had to.”

“Why?” Aegon asked.

“Because I could not be your friend,” Aerys admitted. “I tried, I did. But I always ended up in the same dark place, miserable. It was not an easy choice, but I had to make it. For myself, for you.”

Aegon’s face contorted into one of pain and suffering. He turned away, lowering his head. “For me,” he murmured.

For a while, neither of them spoke again. Both are too lost in their own wild emotions to think clearly. When Aerys returns to his senses, he decides to try to sway the conversation away from them.

“Aegon,” Aerys spoke softly as he approached the man. “You have both lost something that can never be replaced, but you both still have people who care for you and depend on you. If this war persists, how many more will die? How much more are you willing to lose?”

“I will not lose anything else! That is why I am doing this!” Aegon snapped, pounding his fist on the arm of the chair.

“That is why you must stop this!” Aerys pleaded, kneeling in front of the man. He took Aegon’s hands into his own.

Aegon stared at him, eyes welling with tears. His lower lip quivered, and Aerys could feel the slight tremble in his hands. Aegon pulled a hand away, raising it to cup the side of Aerys’ face. Aerys closed his eyes, nuzzling into his palm, losing himself in the man’s warmth.  

“Do you love me?” Aegon asked.

Without hesitation, Aerys opened his eyes and said, “My love for you is the only thing I can be sure of in these dark times.”

“Then choose me,” Aegon pleaded, his voice wavering. “Rule and fight by my side.”

“You’re asking me to make an impossible choice,” Aerys whined, shaking his head.

Aegon released a shuddering breath, sitting up straight. “You must choose Aerys. Either join me or die.”

“You would have me killed?”

The question made Aegon flinch. Aerys believed he could see the man’s heart and mind battling for control in his eyes. 

“I do not wish to,” he answered honestly. “But if you force my hand, I will have no choice. I have spared you all the time I can. I must know where your loyalty lies.”

Aerys started to snivel and dropped his head. Aegon placed a hand on his chin, lifting his head.

“You were there the day Jaehaerys was born. You even held him.”

The two men shared a sad smile as they remembered that day.

“But you did not have to see his- his body. You did not see what those beasts did to him. What she sent them to do.” Silent tears fell from Aegon’s violet eyes. “Join me,” he pleaded once more.

Aerys could not speak; he could not trust his voice. He balled his hands into first, trying desperately to stop the trembling.

“Please,” Aegon begged.

Aerys believed he was damned one way or the other. He must truly be cursed. Perhaps the all-knowing gods had seen his sins- his shame and wished to punish him. Perhaps they were never there; maybe they had abandoned him long ago. With a reluctant sigh, Aerys nodded his head.

–

The hour of the owl was quickly approaching. The full moon sat up high, resting in the dark abyss of the night sky.

“A seat on the council,” Wylla said, astonished.

“I’m merely a guest.” Aerys shrugged.

The day had come and gone. Aegon decided that Aerys would now be attending the small council meetings. Though only as a guest, Ser Criston Cole had been named Aegon’s new hand. Fortunately for Aerys, Aegon had allowed him to refrain from attending today’s meeting on account of his poor emotional state. He had been rather upset after their argument.

Aerys was exhausted, but his mind seemed incapable of slowing down.

“Still, you must feel special!” Wylla smiled, running the brush through his hair.

“Special,” Aerys hummed. “That’s certainly a word for it.”

The woman stilled. “Are you unhappy?”

Aerys sighed wearily, his eyes staring at her through the mirror. “How happy would you be if all you could do is sit back and watch as your family tears itself apart?”

She frowned, “Not too happy, I suppose.”

He nodded his head, “Precisely.”

There was a knock at the door, though the person behind it waited for no response before stumbling into the room. Wylla placed the brush on the table, quickly brushing off her apron. Aerys felt his stomach churn as he noticed a familiar face staring at him through the mirror.

“Cousin,” the man giggled as he swayed, struggling to keep his balance.

The fool was drunk.

“You may go, Wylla,” Aerys said, dismissing the woman.

She bowed before taking her leave. Aerys stood up from his chair, turning around to face the man dressed in expensive fabrics, with the red lion of their house embroidered on his collar. It was his cousin, Martyn Reyne. 

Martyn stumbled towards Aerys, clumsily throwing his arms around him. Aerys stiffened, uncomfortable with the man’s affection. He awkwardly patted the man’s back a couple of times before pushing him away.

“Cousin,” He nodded. “I hear you’ve been appointed to the Kingsguard?”

“By the king himself,” the man smirked, brandishing the new sword he had been given.

Aerys had to refrain from laughing as he looked the man up and down. He was hardly worthy of such a prestigious position. Aerys was unsure if the man knew how to use that sword, which he proudly displayed.

“Hmm,” Aerys hummed. “Why are you here?”

“His grace, the king, has summoned you.” 

“The hour is quite late,” Aerys sighed.

Martyn shrugged, sheathing his weapon. “He requires your... counsel.”

Martyn's eyes drifted to the bruises on Aerys’ neck before moving them back up to his face. Aerys did not miss the glint of amusement in the man’s eyes. He glared at the drunken fool.

“Why did he send you?” Aerys asked.

“He thought you would feel more comfortable seeing a familiar face.”

“Indeed,” Aerys nodded. “I had not expected to see you in the capital. You seemed quite... content in my brother’s hall the last time we met.”

Martyn pursed his lips, his face grew red, and his eyes flooded with anger. “Yes, well, it was your brother who sent me. To bend the knee to King Aegon in his stead.”

“Robb bent the knee to Aegon?”

Martyn nodded with a smug expression on his face. Aerys had never imagined Robb to be an oathbreaker. The news was like a knife to his heart. 

“As have you, I hear. Robb will be pleased. He always worried about your... attachment to the princess.”

Aerys flashed him a tight smile but stayed silent.

“Shall we?” Martyn asked, nodding towards the door.

Aerys took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He nodded, letting the man lead the way. The castle halls were relatively empty. Aerys had found himself immensely grateful for that.

“You and the king are quite... close,” Martyn slurred, and his body swayed with every step.

“Is that a question?” Aerys grumbled.

“No, more of a keen observation.” Martyn laughed. “This is your second time entertaining him in his private quarters this late. Is it not?”

“The king requires my counsel, nothing more.” Aerys snapped. 

Martyn turned his head to look at Aerys. His eyes sparkled with merriment.

“Nothing more, indeed,” He smirked.

The implications behind the man's words were not lost on him. Aerys cursed under his breath, chastising himself for giving in to the man’s taunts.

They finished their walk in silence. The two came to a stop when they reached the door. Martyn attempted to open it, but the door was pulled open. Two men stumbled out of the doorway. They tried to stand up straighter when they saw him. They must have been the other two knights Aegon had appointed to the kingsguard. They seemed just about as impressive as his cousin. Aerys nodded his head, slipping past them. He could hear Martyn and the others snicker as they closed the door behind him. They were laughing at him. His face burned with embarrassment. Did they know of him and Aegon? How many others knew? He suddenly felt very naked, exposed.

Aerys shook his head, trying to bury these feelings. He was here for Aegon. He had summoned him here.

Aerys found the man sitting at the edge of his bed, fidgeting with his ring. It made Aerys think of his own ring. The one with his mother’s face enameled on it. He had hidden it away with the rest of his things. Aerys could no longer bear to wear it.

“They doubt me.” Aegon slurred, turning his head up to look at Aerys. “They all believe me to be weak.” 

“Who?” Aerys asked, taking a seat beside him.

“My mother, my council, all of them. They treat me like I am a child,” Aegon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What happened?” Aerys asked, placing his hand over Aegons.

“They refuse every idea I have. They do not heed my thoughts. I am the king, and they expect me to sit around and do nothing.” Aegon scoffed. “You should have heard them quarreling like children today.”

“Share your ideas with me. I will listen.” Aerys pressed.

Aegon turned his head to Aerys, his eyes darting up and down the man’s face. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “We need Harrenhal. Ser Criston is leading a campaign through the Riverlands. I suggested he take Aemond and Vhagar, in case he stumbles upon one or more of Rhaenyra’s dragons, but he refused. So I decided Sunfyre and I would accompany them, but he refused again.”

“I cannot say that I blame him.”

Aegon frowned, “What do you mean?”

“It’s as you said, you are the king. The men who raise your banner fight for you and you alone. We cannot afford to lose you.”

“Gods,” Aegon scoffed, standing up from the bed. “Don’t do that.”

“Don't do what?”

“Patronize me!” He shouted, whirling around to face Aerys. “I can take it from them, but not you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aerys apologized. “That was not my intention.”

Aegon paced the room with his hands on his hips. Aerys waited patiently on the bed, not wanting to anger him further. After a few moments, Aegon finally stopped, standing just a few feet away from the bed.

“Will you-” Aegon paused, looking everywhere but Aerys’ face. “Will you hold me again?”

The quiver in his voice filled Aerys’ heart with sadness. He asked the question like a child, afraid of judgment or reprimand.

“Of course,” Aerys reassures him with a gentle smile.

Aegon inched towards the bed slowly. Aerys leaned his back against the many pillows that rested against the headboard. He could not help but think that Aegon looked a bit embarrassed. It amused him. 

Aegon settled his head on Aerys’ lap. His hands held onto one of Aerys, thumbs gently tracing the lines on his palm. Yes, he was flustered, Aerys thought, as his free hand began absent-mindedly drifting through his hair.

In the candlelight, Aerys could make out the redness in his ear and the faraway look in his eyes. He was curious about what ailed him, but he did not ask. If Aegon wanted to speak, he would. 

Aerys rested his head against the headboard, closing his eyes. His entire body felt heavy, as if some unforeseen force was sitting on his chest.

Half-delirious, Aegon mumbled, “It’s all my fault.”

“You mustn't blame yourself,” Aerys whispered.

“How can I not?” Aegon cried. “I- I should have been there! I could have-”

“There is nothing you could done, Aegon. You did not know what would happen. No one did.”

“I loved him,” he whined. “I did- I loved him. I was not the best father to him, but I tried. I wanted to do better. I tried to do better. To make up for my absence. To prove my love for him, and- and now he will never know,” Aegon burst into uncontrollable sobs.

His body convulsed and jerked with each sob and every gasp for air.

Aerys pulled the man into his arms, holding him close to his chest. “He knew Aegon. I’m sure he did.”

Aerys flinched when the top of Aegon’s head brushed against his neck. He adjusted them so Aegon could rest his head on his chest rather than his bruised neck. Aegon cried into Aerys’ chest, his fingers clinging to his sides. Aerys holds him tighter. He does not speak. He does not try to quiet him. He lets him cry himself out. It’s what he needs. This kind of grief is not one that should be contained.

Aegon pulls back, resting his weight on his hands. He looks like a wreck. His face is red, puffy, and stained with tears. He surges forward, capturing Aerys’ lips with his own. Aerys had been surprised but kissed him back. They kiss until they have no choice but to pull back for air, to soothe their burning lungs.

Aegon tried to kiss him again, but Aerys blocked it. Aegon pouted at him and tried again, but Aerys stopped him.

“Aegon,” Aerys sighs.

“Please,” Aegon begs. “I just- I need to feel something else.”

His fingers trail lightly across the side of Aerys’ face. With a beautifully tragic smile, he says, “Something good.”

Aerys is hesitant, but with that forlorn look in Aegon’s eyes, he's unable to deny him.

Tags: @saicherry, @sadpuffpuff, @willow-red, @teamavatar13

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 16/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

                He walks out the front to find Vi sitting at one of the tables groaning, her head rested on a pile of books and her laptop set to the side.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Studying. Go to University they said. It’ll be fun they said. It was all bullshit and lies.”

                “You could always run away to another country.”

                “Oh, I am not fool enough to think my life is as blessed as yours is. If I ran away to America I’d probably end up dead.”

                “You don’t want to travel?”

                “I didn’t say that.”

                “But…?”

                “Can you imagine my parents agreeing to let me go?”

                “What if I went with you?”

                “Where?”

                “Anywhere…Everywhere.”

                “Are you serious?”

                “You’re like my sister –”

                “Cousin.”

                “I might actually have cousins somewhere. Anyway, we could always go together. If you wanted.”

…            …            …

                Sandy, Olivia, Maria, Nicola and Mandy are all sitting at the large twelve-seater dining table when he finally steps into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, silently pours himself coffee from the pot and takes a sip while he just looks at them. They all look back. They’ve clearly been talking about him, or Leo, or more likely his relationship with Leo. Not that he’s told Maria anything, and for her to be the sister that knows the most is unusual. He doesn’t know whether she would have talked or not.

                Sandra is the oldest, nine years Jake’s senior and got to get the whole college experience before their lives came crashing down around their ears. She’d married her boyfriend from college, a man named Daniel who had uprooted his life in Montana to live in Texas. If that didn’t show love and devotion Jake doesn’t know what does. They have three kids, two girls and a boy, ten, eight and six years old. They call him Uncle Jake and think he’s cool. He doesn’t need the ego boost, but he’ll take it regardless.

                Olivia is six years older than Jake, and of all his sisters he’d have to say she’s the one he has the least in common with. He doesn’t know what happened while she was at college, but he just knows she’d come back angry and upset, raging at the world with no time to consider comforting anyone, or being comforted herself. Now though, she seems happy, her own little house built on the farm a ten-minute walk away from Maria in the main house. She cooks and creates things, rescues animals like it’s her job.

                For a reason he’s not one-hundred percent sure of, Maria lives in their family home where they all grew up and where he’s standing right now; looking at the large table where they all congregate around for every special occasion whether he’s there or not. He has always assumed that Sandra didn’t want to live here and raise her own family. Maria is only three-and-a-half years older than Jake, was still in high school and living at home and he’s always considered her the bridge between them all, a middle child acting as glue. Maybe that’s why she stays in the house, reels them all back in every chance she gets.

                Nicola and Amanda are twins, the ones he’s closest to in age, only two years older than him, but he’s definitely closest to Nicola. Nicola came out as a lesbian before Jake even realized that he was maybe not straight and their parents’ easy loving acceptance and support had made it so much easier for him when he figured himself out. The fact that he’s away much of the time means he makes the perfect roommate, only around for a few weeks, always with an end date in sight so she never seems to get sick of him. Amanda, he thinks, is maybe the bravest out of them all, her decision to go after parenthood and take it on single-handed, refusing to wait for some person to come along to make it happen for her. She currently breastfeeding her son and only half of her attention is really on Jake.

                “You going to say anything?” Olivia asks.

                “What’s there to say?” Jake asks, shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. There are collective eye rolls and scoffs around the table and he pulls a face. “What?” he asks again.

                “Maria told us you have a boyfriend.”

                “Did she now…” Jake says dryly, shooting Maria a look and she gives it right back.

                “Did you take the idiot route?” Maris asks, one eyebrow shooting up like she’s daring him to prove her right or wrong either way.

                “No. I didn’t. However if you think me bringing him here for dinner tomorrow isn’t an idiot move on my part then you all need you head’s examined.”

                “If he can’t put up with a little ribbing from us he’s not worth your time,” Nicola states, and she leans back from the table and folds her arms, looks like she’s ready to throw hands.

                “After seven days? You think introducing a guy to all of you, what,” he looks to Maria. “Forty-eight hours after we actually decide to try having a long-distance relationship when he leaves, that meeting my entire family isn’t a complete overkill?”

                “But Maria got to meet him!”

                “That’s because I knew she’d be able to help him better than I could. And I wasn’t… we were just hooking up.”

                The looks his sisters all now exchange have him throwing his hands up in the air in annoyance, no idea what they’re communicating silently. He skulls back the last of the coffee in his mug, regrets it almost instantly given how hot it still is, but it looks like Amanda is finished breastfeeding Lincoln and he grabs the burping cloth and makes grabby hands for his three-month old nephew. While he’s around he gets first dibs on everything and he’s totally going to use Lincoln to hopefully redirect the conversation.

                “You sleep well for your mom last night?” Jake asks, and Amanda snorts.

                “Stop trying to deflect Jake.”

                Damn. He’s out or practice. Not even one question before he’s getting called out; although trying with someone unable to answer back was probably a mistake. Ah well, it was worth a shot.

                “This is the first guy you’ve ever brought home. It’s a big deal.”

                “Okay. First off. There was no conscious decision to bring a guy home. He just… I literally bumped into him at the market on Saturday.  Until yesterday afternoon we were just fucking –”

                “Jake!” “Language!” “Can you not?” Their voices all overlap and he’s reminded that while he spends most of his time with guys who are trying to get their photo in the dictionary beside curse like a sailor, his sisters have never liked curse words, although when he’s with them one on one they usually let it slide.

                “Making sweet sweet love,” Jake says, giving them all an annoyed look while jiggling Lincoln and patting his back. “Look, I wouldn’t be bringing any guy home after a couple of dates.”

                “Except it’s not just a couple of dates. This is your guy from Italy…” Nicola states.

                “Nicky…” Jake starts, because only she knows quite the extent of his maybe little thing for Leo which he’d built up in his mind. The fact that he’s pretty much had all of that in more the last few days cementing some of his wildest fantasies isn’t something he wants to examine too closely yet.

                “What guy from Italy?”

                “I thought you said it was Bradley Bradshaw?”

                “Yeah. It is. And apparently they met years ago in Italy and Jake calls him Leo,” Maria provides, like she’s repeating something and Jake frowns.

                “It’s what his Italian family call him…” he says defensively, not adding that it’s also what he’s called him in his head for around eight years.

                “It’s how he introduced himself to you,” Nicola provides and Jake shoots her a glare over the top of Lincoln’s head.

                “Italy… didn’t you stop there as part of your first deployment?”

                “Yeah, it was, he sent us a postcard.”

                “Wait. Was he your first?”

                Jake feels hunted, as he often does when they’re all pursuing the same thing or all trying to get him to do something, or find something out.

                “You’re all a bunch of gossips!”

                “Like this is news…”

                “Also that wasn’t an answer. You know…” Amanda says, turning toward Nicola instead of Jake and he groans. Nicola cannot keep anything from Amanda once she knows there is something to know.

                “He wasn’t my first…” Jake mutters, hoping to maybe head them off, but Amanda is studying Nicola with narrowed eyes, Nicola is looking between her twin and back to Jake helplessly and he shakes his head and Amanda’s eyes go gleeful.

                “Ooohhh… there is definitely something. He was –”

                “He’s the first guy Jake ever kissed.”

                “Maria!”

                “What? You told me when you came home very briefly in between rounds of sweet sweet love. Remember? I didn’t realize it was a state secret. We all know who each other’s first kiss are…”

                “Well, we do now.”

                “My first kiss was actually Suzanne McKenzie,” Jake says smugly.

                “You were four. That doesn’t count.”

                “Oh… he was the first man you kissed. And DADT was still in effect.”

                “Yeah,” Jake says on a sharp exhale, and he swallows, looks down at Lincoln to avoid looking at any of them. It was one thing to have their support when he decided to apply to USNA, but they had each taken him aside and told him that DADT was going to make it difficult. They hadn’t been wrong, but other than Nicola he’d felt at the time it was all I support you but…. Nicola had said, fuck them, you go in there and show them what you’re made of.

                So he had.

SEVENTEEN

[katelynnwrites]

I Find Myself Running Home (To Your Sweet Nothings) | Ona Batlle

warnings: only a little angst

word count: 2895

summary: you find yourself running home to ona and her sweet nothings

chosen song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

a/n: chapter 6/6 of you were bigger than the whole sky (you were more than just a short time)

When a ray of sunlight wakes you, Ona is still there.

She’s still there but fully clothed and sitting up.

Tears prick your eyes immediately as you reach out to grab her arm.

‘No.’ Your voice breaks because you think she’s leaving (she can’t be leaving you again can she?) but Ona rushes to reassure you.

‘Only for a week amor. One week. I will be back exactly seven days from now, I promise.’ Ona determinedly says.

‘A week?’ There’s a wobble in your voice that has the brunette kissing your forehead fervently.

‘One week. I need to go and finalise the end of my contract at Barcelona.’

‘The end of your contract Ona what?’

‘I’m done with Barcelona. I’m not taking them up on the offer to extend my contract.’ Ona shrugs casually as you stare at her open mouthed. (she was acting like it was no big deal, giving up her childhood club and becoming essentially jobless).

‘After that I’m going to pack. I’m packing up everything I have in Barcelona because if you’ll have me, if you want me, then I’m coming back to Manchester (i’m coming back home).’

Your silence has her backtracking and she stammers, ‘A-Arsenal is interested too. If you don’t want that, I can go to London. I don’t have to re-sign with United, I can go.’

‘Stay.’

Ona stops, trembling slightly as her eyes meet yours.

Taking her hand in yours, you lead her over to your photo wall.

‘I didn’t take down all the photos of you. I kept this one.’

You point to an old Barca B team photo that Ona had somehow missed. It’s a starting eleven photo and in it, though you and Ona were separated by two other teammates, you were looking over at each other.

It’s a grainy poor quality photo but one thing is clear.

There’s an unmistakable look of love in the shared look. Anyone who looked at it could see that you were each other’s favourite person.

Turning around to face Ona (who looks a mixture of being close to tears and confused), you give her the explanation she had been waiting to hear.

‘This is a photo of us, from the day I told you I love you. You wanted to know why I didn’t treat you the way you expected? It’s because I have never stopped loving you. I love you Ona, from that day till now, I have been in love with you.’

Ona bursts into tears and you pull her in for a hug.

‘Stay. Please don’t ever go again.’ You murmur into her ear.

‘I won’t mi amor. For the rest of my life, you have me. However you want me, in whatever capacity you want me, I am yours.’

‘I want all of you Ona.’ (the good, the bad and everything in between, you just wanted her).

‘Then that is what you will have.’ Her words are muffled by your hair but it makes you hug her tighter all the same.

‘Okay. So when does our flight leave?’

The fullback pulls back slightly to quizzically ask, ‘Our?’

‘You didn’t think I was going to let you pack alone? I think if I help, we can finish much faster and then I can have you back home sooner.’

Ona’s resulting smile is brilliant. She half laughs, half sobs, shaking her head with some disbelief.

‘You know I got up early to write letters for you? You were meant to have one for each day I was away.’

You simply grin at her, ‘I can read them when we’re back.’

And so you do.

******

The first you read as Ona puts her clothes back in your shared closet (clothes that you could now steal again).

The second you read as Ona puts her toiletries back in the shared bathroom.

The third you read as she naps, head resting on your stomach (she snores slightly but denies it whenever you tell her she does so).

The fourth you read as she takes her signing photos for United (she looks stunning in them)

The fifth, well you begin to read that only to be interrupted by Ona, whose eyes widen comically when she sees you opening the letter.

‘It’s best if you read this one on your own.’

Her cheeks are bright red and that’s what makes you begin to read it aloud (it’s something about how much she loves your boobs).

Ona chases you around the apartment for that. It ends with her tackling you onto the sofa.

‘Amor…’ She whines in a huff, flopping down on you so that her brown hair is all you can see for a moment.

You laugh, pushing her off you good naturedly.

‘I already know how much you love my boobs Oni. It’s not a secret.’

Ona sighs and feebly mumbles, ‘I can’t help it.’

‘I know.’ You hum, brushing her hair back and kissing the top of her head.

‘I love you. Thank you for your letters.’

The fullback looks up and smiles beautifully, ‘I love you too.’

She’s silent for a moment, simply gazing at you for a moment before she asks, ‘You watch figure skating now?’ (you were really hoping she wouldn’t have noticed the channel your television was last on)

It’s your turn to be embarrassed now.

‘You remember that huh?’

‘I could never get you to watch it with me when we were growing up.’

Blushing faintly, you murmur, ‘I watch it when I miss you because it reminds me of you.’

Ona pulls you in for a kiss, lips slowly moving against yours as she tries her best to convey how much she had missed you too.

******

The sixth you read as she showers, her music playing through the bathroom door. You also can smell the shampoo she’s using, the one that makes her hair smell so good.

And the seventh, you read that one with her sitting beside you, the softest of smiles on her face as she watches you.

You reach the last line of Ona’s letter, ‘I’ll be coming back home today amor. I can’t wait. I miss you. I love you and you’re the person I want to marry.’

Your eyes jump from the piece of paper to Ona’s eyes immediately.

‘You want to marry me?’

‘Yes. I do.’

Ona is serious, you can tell she is by the way she steadfastly meets your gaze.

‘I want you to know that I am on the same page now. You asked me once before but I said no out of fear. I am still scared but I will not let that change my mind. I will not run again. I love you and I want to be yours. I want to know if you still want me to be your wife. It doesn’t have to be now but just let me know if you still want that someday.’

‘Onita…’ You blink back tears and after a moment, give her the tiniest of nods.

The Manchester United fullback lets out a breath of relief, kissing your cheek quickly in response before continuing, ‘I think it’s fair that I propose to you because you already made the effort once. I won’t ask you to marry me now because I know you need time. Take all the time that you need. I promise that I am not going anywhere and I will use that time to show you that I am ready. I am ready and I am willing to do anything to prove to you that I want to be yours. I just want you.’

Ona squeezes your hand in hers and you cry softly.

‘Vale.’

******

It’s a few months later that you return home from a thoroughly exhausting training session (Ona got a pass because she was given the day off).

It’s been the best four months you’ve had in the past couple of years. Going to training with Ona, coming back home with Ona (sometimes coming back home to Ona).

Kissing Ona, being loved by her, being told and shown that you were loved by her…it’s been almost like a dream (Millie pinches you when you ask her to, she tells you you’re being silly every time but you can’t help it).

Four months of ‘mine’ and ‘yours’ and ‘I love yous’ to make up for the lost time.

Unlocking the door, you enter your apartment to hear your girl. She’s in the kitchen humming (she’s also cooking what looks and smells like tortilla de patatas).

That alone is enough to put a smile on your face, washing away the stress and weight of your day.

Your presence has gone unnoticed so far, so you lean against the doorframe and watch her (with more than a little adoration).

Her long hair is pulled up into a messy bun, loose strands framing her face. She continues her humming, the sound of it making you fall more in love with her.

As you watch on, she blows a strand out of her face.

It makes you giggle and Ona jumps, (dramatically) putting a hand over her heart.

‘Babe!’

‘Hi.’ You grin and Ona rushes over to give you a hug.

And a kiss that you are more than happy to receive and reciprocate until she abruptly pulls away.

‘You scared me.’ She accuses.

Ona grabs your hand and puts it over her heart, letting you feel how fast it’s beating.

‘See. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’

Laughing, you pull her in for another kiss, murmuring a quiet apology against her lips.

Ona gifts you with one of her smiles (it’s one of those special ones she reserves just for you) to let you know you’re forgiven.

The former Barcelona player, now playing in Manchester United colours once again, picks up her spatula and waving it nervously, says, ‘I made dinner, hope you don’t mind tortilla de patatas.’

‘I don’t. In fact, I missed your tortilla de patatas so much. I tried making it but it didn’t taste the same.’

‘I missed your paella. I really did try to make it but I couldn’t get it the same.’ Ona sheepishly admits.

‘I guess I’ll just have to make some for you soon then.’

Ona gives you yet another smile, whispering a grateful, ‘Gracias.’

******

Six (blissful) months go by before Ona anxiously brings up the subject of her wanting to visit her family, back in Spain.

She fiddles with the hem of her top, biting her lip as she nervously tries to build up her nerve.

Finally she asks, ‘What do you think?’

Ona has always been close to her family, calling her parents every evening no matter what.

You gave her space whenever she did so, not wanting to intrude on her family time. You did, however, hear her mother and father’s voices sometimes as they spoke. They were still familiar to you, so much of your childhood had been spent with them that you could never forget their voices.

They had been your family growing up and while you still considered them to be (you missed them so much), you weren’t sure if you still held the same place with them.

******

Ona’s parents knew you better than your own did.

They were the ones who took you alongside their own daughter to buy new cleats and new shin pads.

They were the ones who invited you along to their family vacations once they saw how much you meant to Ona.

You were at the Batlle house so often that Ona’s mother included your share in the meals she cooked.

She learnt your favourites and you were given your own place at their family table.

It wasn’t that your own parents mistreated you but rather that they were always far too busy for you.

So Ona’s parents stepped up in their place and adopted you as their own.

******

‘I think that you should go Oni. I’m never going to stop you from visiting your parents mi amor.’ You reply.

Ona groans (because you’re missing her point entirely), ‘I know. And I love you for that. But what I wanted to know is if you want to come too.’

‘You want me to go with you?’ You repeat, trying to make sure you hadn’t misheard her.

‘Yeah…’

Ona hesitantly nods.

‘Do your parents know you’re inviting me?’

Your girlfriend nods again, ‘They insisted I invite you. They miss you so much.’

‘They miss me?’ You quietly ask and Ona hugs you, kissing your cheek gently.

‘They miss you. They ask about you all the time. When I broke up with you…Mama wanted to call you but I-I told her not to because I didn’t want her to remind you of what I had taken from you.’

‘I miss them. Ona, I miss your parents so much. I miss your brother too. Whenever you call them and I can hear their voices, it feels like I’m a teenager again and hanging out in your home. I miss them so much Oni.’ You admit.

‘You should have joined me baby. They would have loved to talk to you.’

‘I was scared that they would no longer think of me as family. It’s been three years.’

‘Love. You are family. You will always be family. Trust me when I say that my parents and brother would love to see you again.’

Ona holds your hands in hers, trying to convey how much she means her words.

‘So will you come with me amor?’ She hopefully questions.

‘I’d really like that.’

******

When you walk back into Ona’s childhood home (also the place where you spent the majority of your childhood), her mother drops everything to hug you.

‘Mija! I’ve missed you so much.’

‘I’ve missed you too, Mrs Batlle.’ You mumble, your voice muffled by how tightly she’s hugging you.

Ona’s mother draws back to give you an affronted look.

‘You haven’t called me Mrs Batlle since you were twelve.’

‘Lo siento. I just really really missed you Mami.’

Ona’s mother beams and she just about nearly suffocates you in another hug.

‘Okay. Let her breathe Mama.’ Ona laughs.

She lets you go but pats your cheek affectionately, making your smile grow even bigger.

‘I made your favourite mija. Come on, the food will get cold.’

She pulls you towards the dining room, casting a glance over her shoulder at her own daughter who has a fond look on her face.

‘You, I’m so glad you finally saw sense. I guess I raised you well after all.’ She tells her (making her blush in response) before calling for her husband.

‘Mi amor. Mija’s home!’

******

Ona takes you out to the beach with her after dinner.

It had been a lovely one, within minutes you had felt right back at home with her family. Joan had been teasing Ona about the way she looks at you, just like he always had (he says she looks at you with complete heart eyes) And the brunette had ducked her head and blushed, just like she always had.

Now she holds your hand in hers, gently swinging them as you walk.

The both of you ditch your shoes at the side, exactly like before, when you were children.

It’s a cool night, the breeze from the ocean making the strands of your hair tangle but you couldn’t care less, especially when Ona brings your joined hands up so that she can kiss the back of yours.

The feel of the sand between your bare toes makes you giggle and the brunette looks over.

There’s so much affection in her gaze, so much love that you can’t help but stand still and kiss her (you feel safe with her and you know in your heart that you can trust her. she wouldn’t hurt you again).

You pour all your emotions into it, letting go of her hand so that you can cradle her face with both hands.

Ona shares a small breath with you, the intensity of your kiss entirely surprising her.

The brunette laughs, kissing you lightly just once before she teases, ‘What was that for? Not that I am in any way complaining mi amor.’

Smiling at her, you take a step closer so that your body is right in front of hers (you’re so sure that what you’re going to do next is right).

Pressing a kiss over her heart, you quietly tell her, ‘I’m ready. When you ask me to marry you, know that I will say yes.’

Multiple emotions play across Ona’s face in rapid succession, surprise, love, determination, happiness and relief.

It takes a moment for her to find a way to express herself but she does.

Ona silently cries, kissing your forehead through her tears as she holds you against her.

‘Gracias mi amor. Gracias. I promise I won’t disappoint you again.’

‘I know you won’t.’ You whisper as you intertwine your fingers with hers.

******

There’s a line of pebbles on the windowsill of your apartment.

The first, a little oval shaped gray one. It’s from your first date with Ona, way back when you were both fourteen.

The last, a white almost circular one from last July. It’s from the beach in Vilassar de Mar that Ona married you on.

All that she ever wanted from you was sweet nothing.

Spanish Translations:

amor - love

mi amor - my love

vale - okay

gracias - thank you

mija - affectionate term for daughter

lo siento - i’m sorry

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Eleven)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: This one is a short one. Technically, it should have gone at the end of the last chapter, but it felt right putting it on its own. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting the next chapter right after so you won't be waiting long lmao

I'm so excited already to get to Act Two where all the pain and angst is, where Simon is Ghost and I can torture you all with tears o3o Alas, I have more of Act One to get through lololol

Placebo - Come Home

Stuck between the do or die, I feel emaciated Hard to breathe I try and try, I'll get asphyxiated Swinging from the tallest height, with nothing left to hold on to

Every sky is blue, but not for me and you

Come home, come home, come home, come home

Glass of petrol vodka gin, it feels like breathing ethane Throw yourself from skin to skin, and still it doesn't dull the pain Vanish like a lipstick trace, it always blows me away

Every cloud is grey, with dreams of yesterday

Come home, come home, come home, come home Come home, come home, come home, come home

Always goes against the grain, and I can try and deny it Give a monkey half a brain, and still he's bound to fry it Now the happening scene is dead, I used to want to be there too

Every sky is blue, but not for me and you

Come home, come home, come home, come home Come home, come home, come home, come home

Charlotte lay there stiffly, the sun starting to shine through the window. She hadn't slept at all, she hadn't been able to knowing Simon was being shipped off so soon. She felt a lot of things she couldn't quite make sense of, but the biggest one was sadness. Six months was a long time to not be able to see him and she was so used to his presence in her life that she knew she was going to struggle to be on her own again. 

It was stupid really, she’d known from the beginning he was military and yet she hadn't even thought about him being deployed, it hadn't even crossed her mind. The emotion weighed her down and clogged up her throat and she knew she was being dramatic and stupid. Or maybe she wasn't since they were official now. She was right to worry about her boyfriend being in a warzone, right? She wouldn't know, her last boyfriend had been a lazy twat. 

Simon was fast asleep, soft and deep steady breaths brushing the back of her neck while his arm lay heavily over her waist. He had to be up at 5am, had to leave by 6. Looking at the clock, she saw it was 4.30 and her heart dropped at what little time they had left. She was sure her eyes were red due to lack of sleep and maybe, just maybe, she'd silently cried a few times in the night. There were a lot of disjointed thoughts in her brain over this situation but it always came back to the same one. What if he doesn't make it home? 

The idea made her heart go cold and she clenched her jaw tightly as she willed her tears to stay away. She knew deep down what she felt for Simon was more intense than what she was used to. Was this real love? She thought she'd loved Ethan but it had been fleeting and barely there and really didn't take long before it was gone. This was something else. There had been a connection with him since the moment they met, some kind of tether pulling them together. She'd never really believed in soul mates and the whole red string of fate nonsense but Simon was making her rethink a lot of things. She'd never felt such an instant connection before, never felt things so deeply or so quickly.

It felt far too soon to be even thinking about such things yet, but now knowing he'd be gone for half a year, it felt like her feelings were staring plainly at her. She wouldn't tell him, not yet at least. She had no idea how he'd react and she wouldn't risk messing his head up before he left. She needed his head firmly affixed to his shoulders and working soundly when he was over there because the idea of him coming back in a coffin made her feel sick. Would she even get told? Did his family even know about her? So many thoughts and not enough energy, she felt her lower lip wobble again. 

She took a few deep and shaky inhales to steady herself, she wouldn't get upset in front of him and make him feel bad. This wasn't a guilt trip, she was just feeling far too much. As she glanced at the clock again, she figured she'd get up since the sleep ship had well and truly sailed. She could at least feed him before he was off. She wasn't sure if a full English would be too much, too heavy for the day he was going to have but you couldn't go wrong with some bacon butties. 

Carefully, she tried to extract herself from his grip and started to sit up. His hand snaked back around her though, splaying over her stomach and pulling her back against him with a tired groan. 

“Where d’you think you're goin'?” He asked. His voice was deep and raspy from sleep and she tried to relax even though she felt so tense. 

“Was gonna make some bacon butties for us before you… have to go,” she explained, clearing her throat, trying to shake the emotion that was stuck there. He hummed, the arm around her tightening as he placed a soft kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Five more minutes, yeah?” He asked, not really giving her a choice with his iron grip. She forced herself to relax in his hold, telling herself this would be the last time in six months she'd be waking up in his arms, that he'd be holding her. She wanted to soak it in, to memorize what it felt like. His thumb rubbed circles on the skin of her stomach, his nose rubbing at her neck softly. 

“Gonna miss this,” he admitted quietly. Her breathing stuttered at his honest admission and her body went rigid, blinking rapidly to stop the onslaught of tears that were threatening to break free. 

“Me too,” she replied with a strained voice. He moved then, rolling her over to face him. Those beautiful dark eyes scanned her face, taking in her tired, red eyes that shone from unshed tears. His brows pinched together a little as he let out a heavy sigh. She felt bad at being so openly sad about the situation, not wanting to make the whole thing worse. 

“You not sleep, love?” He asked knowingly. She shook her head, not trusting her voice in that moment when his warm eyes were shining with concern. 

His hand came to her face, a finger trailing across her cheek in a featherlight touch before moving back up and along her temple. It danced across her forehead before sliding down the bridge of her nose, all the way down to the tip and then back up. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling and how gentle his touch was. He mapped out the planes of her face for a moment longer before his fingers then trailed down her neck, down her arm until it reached her hand. He took it gently and her eyes opened once more, watching as he brought it to his mouth, placing a sweet kiss on it. He placed it between them both, his hand still enveloping hers. 

“Wanted to ask somethin'...” He murmured, sounding unsure. It always surprised her when he seemed unsure of himself for a man such as him. 

“What is it?” She asked, watching as his eyes darted across her face. 

“Wanted to know if uh… if you wanted to write to me when I'm over there,” there was something shining behind his eyes she couldn't quite place as he asked but she felt her chest warm up at his words. 

“I'd really like that,” she smiled. 

It was a stupidly romantic thought, one she'd never really considered. She'd always been a bit of a romantic deep at heart but she hadn't been able to pay much mind to it outside of indulging herself in sappy romance novels. Her life hadn't had a place for romance in the past and yet the soldier in front of her had been quite romantic in their short time together. The flowers on her nightstand were proof of that. A handsome smile tugged at his lips at her answer and he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers firmly. It was a chaste kiss, one that carried a deep longing and yearning from the separation they both knew was coming. 

“I should make breakfast,” she murmured when he pulled away. She didn't really want to get out of bed, to leave his presence, but she knew time was running out. She wanted to see him off with a full stomach, she wouldn't be selfish. He opened his mouth and she had a strong feeling he'd been going to protest, so she quickly darted out of bed. She knew it wouldn't take her much convincing to abandon her plans of feeding him to stay in bed with him instead. 

She sorted herself out in the bathroom before swiping his jumper off the floor, sliding it over her head to stave off the cold and to enjoy the deep, spicy scent she loved so much. She padded over to the drawers to get a fresh pair of knickers before moving over to the kitchen. She busied herself with making the food but her eyes kept darting to the clock. The ticking felt louder and louder with each passing second, like it was mocking her and her aching heart. 

She heard Simon rummaging around in his bag but she left him to get ready as she tried to get the bacon just how he liked it. He slid behind her, something she noticed he seemed to love to do, not that she minded, and wrapped his arms around her. One of his hands slid up inside of the jumper to lay over her bare stomach. It wasn't a sexual touch, but one of intimacy and she felt her body melt into him as she tried to continue with the food. It made her feel a little better that he seemed to want to be attached to her, like maybe she wasn't the only one bothered by the whole thing. 

“Alright, foods ready,” she murmured, putting it on the plates. He released her then, grabbing the plates for the pair of them before he went over to the couch. Nothing good was on tv at this time so she just left some cheesy infomercials on while they ate in a tense silence. His leave was like a dark cloud looming over them both. He finished before her and once she was done, he grabbed both of their plates and put them on the coffee table in front of him out of the way. 

“Come here, love,” he held his hand out to her, gesturing with his head for her to come to him and she did without thought. She was careful when she moved to straddle him that her bare thighs didn't scrape on his belt now he was decked out in his fatigues ready to go. She settled into him and he used his hand on the back of her head to guide it to his shoulder. One of her hands clutched his t-shirt, the other wrapped around him as she snuggled into him, breathing in his scent deeply. 

“Just wanna hold you for a bit, yeah?” he asked and his soft and gentle tone broke something inside of her. She felt the lump expand in her throat and she pressed her face into his neck as the waterworks started. She felt so stupid, she promised herself she’d wait until he was gone. He didn't need the drama. 

“Lottie… Don’t cry… please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he held her tighter, the hand on her head pressing her closer to him. 

“I’m sorry… just ignore me, I’m being stupid,” she sobbed pitifully, her chest stuttering as she tried to suppress them to no avail. 

”It's not stupid, love,” he chided but she didn't reply as she stayed put, crying into his neck. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’m gonna miss you, as well?” he asked and she scrunched her face up at the pain that lanced through her chest. His fingers massaged her scalp and she wished it would soothe her but it didn't. 

“Or that I’ll be thinkin’ of you every day I’m over there? That I have somethin’ to look forward to, comin’ back to you?” he finished and there was a weight in his tone that made her sit up, looking at him with tear stained cheeks. His eyes looked troubled at her emotional state and she wiped her eyes quickly, trying to compose herself. The idea that he’d miss her and was already looking forward to coming back to her eased the knot in her chest somewhat.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry,” she sniffled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She really hadn’t mean to be so emotional in front of him. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the residual tears that lay there.

“Don’t need to be sorry, love,” he said firmly, giving her a look that told her he meant it. She was just used to always apologizing for things, it was second nature to her. A habit he was trying to help her break. 

She lay one of her hands over his that was still on her cheek, tilting her head to lean into him, seeking out his warmth. He watched her for a long moment, those piercing brown eyes feeling like they could see down to her very soul. She wished she could know what went on in that head of his sometimes. She felt like she was so easy to read and half the time with Simon, she felt lost. 

His eyes cut from her to the clock on the wall, a deep frown pulling at his brows that told her it was time. She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the chest. He looked back at her then, his mouth opening and closing for a moment as if he couldn't figure out what to say.

“I uh… I always felt like I was livin’ life in the dark. Just goin’ through the motions, gettin’ on with it. But then… then you came along and suddenly everythin’ was bright light. Every fuckin’ dark corner of my miserable life was lit up and you chased all the shadows away…” his words were rushed as if he was just spewing his thoughts as they came to him and her heart felt like it stopped beating entirely. 

Had she really made him feel that way? Did he really like her that much? She felt like he had to be talking about someone else, she felt like she hadn’t done much to get him to feel that way. But his warm and soft gaze told her he was indeed talking about her. 

“I’m really glad I have you in my life, Simon,” she admitted, not having such poetic words as he did but hoping it got the message across. A few things flit across his face at a pace she couldn't keep up with but then he smiled and it seemed like his dark eyes were glowing amber. 

“I’m glad too, love,” he replied fondly, stroking her cheek again before he moved his hand. She knew that was her cue, knew he didn't really want to say the words that he had to leave. She didn't want to make this harder on either of them so she got up, feeling the cold already. She hovered near the door as she watched him fuss about his duffel bag for a moment before he came over to her with a handful of t-shirts. He handed them out to her and she took them, raising a brow.

“What are these?” she asked even though she knew what they were and she should have been asking why he was giving them to her. He shifted on his feet, running a hand through his short hair.

“I… I haven't washed ‘em. I know you like to sleep in ‘em so I thought…” he trailed off and she felt a blinding warmth hit her suddenly in her chest. It was so thoughtful she almost burst into tears again. She brought the pile of tops up to her face, burying her nose in them for a moment to confirm they really did smell like him. It was so overwhelmingly comforting. 

“Thank you,” she swallowed thickly, her eyes shining with unshed tears and his face told her he fully understood how much she appreciated the gesture. 

“Could I…” his mouth floundered, his cheeks turning a light pink color that she never got sick of seeing on him. It was rare he blushed but she was still shocked he blushed at all. “Could I have one of yours?” he finally spat out, unable to look at her. She wanted to make a witty quip about how it wouldn't fit him to sleep in but she could see it took a lot for him to ask her that. She wanted him to be able to talk to her or ask her for anything, no judgment. So instead, she nodded eagerly, moving to the wash basket. There was a t-shirt in there that hadn’t been washed yet and she moved over to her nightstand, spraying her perfume on it for good measure. She padded back over to him, handing him the shirt and he gratefully took it, stuffing it into his bag quickly as if he was trying to hide evidence. 

“I’m keeping this for now too,” she remarked cheekily, tugging at the soft jumper she’d commandeered from him earlier. She wanted to lighten the mood a little before he left and she didn't want him feeling so self-conscious around her. It seemed to work as his lips quirked up in that lopsided smile she was so fond of.

“Guess I’ll let you since I won’t need it,” he huffed playfully and she smiled up at him. 

His eyes danced around her face for a moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss. It started off gentle but it was like a sudden urgency had come over him. He grasped her face, deepening the kiss as he explored every inch of her mouth. She moaned softly, clutching onto him for dear life as he tried to suck the soul out of her body. It wasn't just a kiss, it was a whole fucking experience and when he pulled away she felt like she was in another dimension. She blinked slowly up at him and a proud smirk graced his face. It didn't last too long though as the reality seemed to hit him again at the time.

“I’ll let you know the address to write once I get back to base,” he said and she nodded. She was eager to write to him, it was better than no contact at all. She quickly moved to wrap her arms around his middle, squeezing him one last time. His arms wrapped around her like snakes trying to constrict her as he pressed his nose into her hair.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he murmured and she nodded, giving him one last squeeze before she reluctantly let him go.

“I’ll see you soon, Simon,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from wobbling and failing miserably. 

He gave her one last sad look before he turned and left through the door, jogging down the steps. She shut the door quickly, leaning against it as a sob ripped from her throat again. She knew she needed to get it all out after trying to keep herself in check in front of him. So she allowed herself to cry it out, to feel every shitty emotion she was feeling, because she’d never get through six whole months if she tried to bottle it up. 

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 5

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: the Millers invite everyone over at their place for Valentine’s day, and things have never felt lonelier for you. But the end of the night has a surprise twist for you.

word count: 5k

A/N: now we’re getting into the juicy part. huge thanks to @cheshire-noir​ for helping me with a good part of this!

Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕 

gif: @pascalsky

series masterlist | AO3 

As much as you tried to remain the professional and hardworking person you have always been, that Friday had your mind spinning relentlessly.

Last night’s dinner was still fresh on your mind, taunting you alongside Frankie and Andrea. Worst part was that you actually liked Andrea. It was virtually impossible to nest any negative feelings towards someone so incredible. 

But then you recalled Frankie’s hesitant side glares, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each nervous gulp he took, the sheer regretful expression on his face whenever the two of you locked eyes, and you wondered if somehow, maybe, he wasn’t so confident in his relationship. 

It couldn’t have been. It was just your jealousy talking deep in your subconscious, giving you false hope. You’ve been down that road before, being fed up lies by your own mind and tricked by your heart. You did not need that again, and certainly not when Frankie was engaged.

You had to be on your best behavior. The two of you were no longer friends, but merely old acquaintances, so you shouldn’t have had an issue with giving him the cold shoulder. The farther he was from you, the better. Even if you had foolishly agreed to go to the Valentine’s Day bash that Will and Benny were throwing, that didn’t mean you could act reckless. 

So you came up with a plan.

“Good news, your girl finished her presentation early, which means I am available for some weekend fun,” Rose’s confident voice giggles over the phone.

It’s a little over eleven p.m., and you’re already half asleep in your bed, but as luck would have it, Rose’s timing is impeccable. 

“Congratulations,” you say, genuinely impressed by her work ethic. “At least one of us was professional today.”

“Uh-oh. I take it dinner was awkward last night?”

“Frankie came with his fiancé.”

Silence. You can hear Rose’s jaw drop and her steady breaths. If you listen closely enough, you can hear her processing what you just told her.

“They both came?” she asks.

“Yeah. It was dinner with friends and their significant others, of course he would’ve brought his fiancé. It was stupid of me to think he wouldn’t.”

“Still, I can’t imagine it was pleasant to just have her in your face like that.”

“She’s actually pretty awesome.”

“What?!”

Rose’s indignation actually steals a chuckle out of you, for which you are thankful.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she continues.

You scoff. “I’m serious! She’s an incredible, accomplished woman.”

“I don’t care, that is the enemy!”

“She’s really not. If anything, Frankie is. He’s the one who fucked it all up.”

“Fair point. What’s so incredible about this woman, anyway?”

“Well, her name’s Andrea and she’s a dermatologist, she regularly volunteers for different charities, she’s hilarious and sweet… oh, and she’s unfairly gorgeous.”

“How gorgeous are we talking here?”

“Green eyes, light brown hair with cute bangs, caramel skin… and she smells great.”

“Shit, that does sound great.”

“So you see my problem.”

“I do. But I can hate her.”

“What—Rose, you don’t even know her.”

“When has that ever stopped us? We’ve hated people for no reason before.”

“Yes, but those were celebrities. And it was usually because they either had something we don’t have, or because we just didn’t like them.”

“Hello! How is this any different?”

You chuckle again, your chest growing heavier with concern regarding tomorrow’s plans.

“Hey, listen, since you’re free this weekend,” you start, “how do you feel about spending Valentine’s Day with me tomorrow?”

“Uh… okay, I really appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not sure what kind of message did I send to you before.”

You both laugh. “Will and Ben are throwing this little Valentine’s get-together between friends—and their girlfriends too, I guess—and I could really use a friendly shoulder there.”

“Hmm. So everyone’s gonna be happily nuzzling next to their significant others?”

“All, except me and Frankie. Andrea can’t come apparently.”

“Gotta say, I’m a little relieved, I thought I was going to have to show some PDA in order to be able to stay.”

You laugh some more, eagerly anticipating her response.

“Won’t it be awkward?” Rose asks.

“Possibly. Every interaction I’ve had so far has been more or less so. Please, you gotta come with me.”

“I will, I will. Just gotta stop by at my grandma’s first to check in on her.”

“How is she doing after the hip replacement surgery?”

“Pretty good. More mobile each day.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah. But after that, I’m totally gonna be there for you.”

“Good. Cause I’m your best friend, and you have to help a friend in need.”

“True.”

“Also, Santi will be there.”

You can tell that has Rose’s attention. Hell, even you smile. You’ve been hoping for a long time that she and Santiago would act upon their feelings, but clearly they both had been shy to initiate.

“I was gonna come anyway, just to clarify,” Rose pushes, to which you smirk.

“Mhm.”

“This is just… an added bonus.”

“Of course it is. I’ll see you tomorrow then, at the Millers?”

“You got it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Oh, and thank you, Rose. I love you.”

“You don’t have a thing to thank me for. I love you too.”

Knowing that Rose will be there makes it easier for you to fall asleep, and to navigate through next day’s tasks. You wake up pretty early in order to go your grocery shopping, your cleaning and your cooking, and when the clock strikes five p.m., you are in your bathroom, showering and putting a little makeup on.

It’s not a party, you keep reminding yourself of Will’s words. So you don’t overdress, and you don’t overdo it with makeup. Just something cute and casual for a night out with your friends.

And their girlfriends. And, with Rose there, probably making heart eyes at Santiago, that means it’ll be just you and Frankie.

Okay, so maybe your plan wasn’t so well thought. Maybe you could back out of going. Who would really care, on Valentine’s, no less?

Oh, but they would. You knew the guys, you knew your friends, and you knew how relentless they could be about group hangouts and such. You knew they would bother you consistently, bombard you with questions about why you were a no-show at the very last moment.

Honestly, the idea of free drinks kept you motivated enough. In the event of Rose disappearing somewhere to snuggle with Santi, you’d have your trusted companions, the beers.

But you refuse to show up empty handed, so you carry with you a big plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine. You put in the location on the GPS and drive through the snowed streets.

You’ve been to Will’s and Benny’s plenty of times, but you felt safer having the address right there in front of you, especially on an icy evening like that. Even on a tender day such as Valentine’s Day, February knows how to remind you of its cold, cold wrath.

Standing on the doorstep of the Millers’ humble bungalow merely twenty minutes later, your warmest clothes prove nothing on that bitter evening. You rang the doorbell once and are now anxiously waiting for either Will or Benny to let you in.

Soon, waiting becomes a daunting task. But not only because of the bitter wind chills.

Will and Benny are hosting this party—scratch that. A get-together. Friendly faces, and yet all of them seem to belong to mere ghosts of your past. For them, Valentine’s Day didn’t need the frills and ties, but rather friends and stiff drinks. Plus, they had their wonderful girlfriends by their side, so even the most mundane tasks could be deemed as romantic and well-thought. Will reassured you it would be a smaller gathering, just the lonely ones and the dorks who actually managed to score someone. Still, the sight of the cramped cars in the driveway spiked your anxiety when the GPS told you “arrived at your destination”. But you prevailed, and marched to the front door nonetheless. You had made a promise, after all. 

Hurry up, guys, your mind begs, huffing into your hands to keep you warm. Finally, you see a familiar face grinning from the door window. Not Will, rather Benny. Your eyes soften, eagerly pushing your way in, even as Benny already starts fussing over how long you waited.

“It’s fine,” you tell him sincerely.

“I shouted at Will to open the door a dozen times,” he seemingly apologizes. “I had the glasses in my hand, but no, I gotta do all the work. So much for big bro duties. Here, let me take that.”

You chuckle as Benny takes the plate and bottle of wine from your hand, and you take a look around. You were swathed in warmth as soon as you crossed the threshold into the home. Something about being inside made you relax much more. It could be the coziness of the two-story living, where every room in the house bled into each other. Or it could be that the furniture choices were plump and rosy leather adorned in animal themed blankets, tapestries and cushions. In the living room, MTV is playing on the television, the soft drones of Robert Smith from The Cure filling you with the melancholy you had come to associate with the holiday.

From the couch, Will greets you, inviting you to sit as you hand your jacket off to Benny. Will and Mia are sitting over at one of the two olive couches that surround the fireplace. Benny has no problem plopping himself next to his brother and his girlfriend, the latter having his own significant other join in, but you decide to pick the couch across from them, the one closest to the kitchen. Not just because it might be useful should you require more drinks, but also because you think five’s a crowd, and couples need their intimacy.

The light in the kitchen is on and you can see two shadows bouncing across the walls. They are talking about something, but you can’t pick up on any of it, not when you have Will and Mia’s conversation ringing in the other ear. Although, you still can’t help but stare at the shapes.

One looks stocky, and seems to be the one making the most noise out of them. But the other. The other has a cap on, larger arms, a deeper voice, dripping with age like a fine wine. He and Benny are the youngest among the boys, but his voice is coarse and thick with plenty of emotions that still have a grip over you.

You shake your head briefly, forcing yourself to smile and even giggle at the excited voices in front of you. It’s a favorable situation rather than staring at Frankie the whole time, which you swore you wouldn’t do, no matter what.

You fleetingly check your watch, wondering when Rose will get there. You grow to hate this feeling of helplessness when it comes to being around Frankie. It’s not that you are not strong, quite the opposite: you are more than capable of being cold and distant, but gazing over at him, looking and longing at the same time? A whole other story.

You’re not quite sure what it is about Frankie that still has you in a chokehold. Actually, you do know, you just like denying it, especially now given the circumstances. In every way, Frankie is the embodiment of your dream partner. He’s kind, funny, sweet, smart, protective, and just overall a warm person that once made you feel like you were truly yourself, and not just playing a game.

After all this time, your feelings for him have not vanished as you had hoped. You foolishly thought distance would help you forget, but now that you have been thrust back into your old life, you see things are no different than when you left.

At least in that regard.

Looking at Will and Benny happily sharing with you stories of their adventures with the girls, you sport a sincere smile. You have never seen them so fulfilled, so blissful, and it makes your heart tremble with joy. Yet there is a permanent ache in your heart that you cannot deny, one you doubt anyone would fully understand.

“Hey, you’re here!” Santiago says, pulling you in to hug you tight.

You reciprocate, eyes landing on Frankie’s figure in the background. He seems apologetic, averting your gaze as much as he can, as if he’s guilty of something. Deep down, you do understand his reaction and, oddly enough, you are thankful that he’s not pushing the note in any way.

“I heard Emily made heart shaped cookies, and you know I’m a sucker for cookies,” you joke.

“You have to try them, they are out of this world,” Mia fortifies.

You all chuckle, and you do in fact stretch your arm towards the coffee table in the middle to grab one of the cookies on the plate and take a bite out of it, instantly melting.

“Oh my God,” you nearly shout, immediately taking another bite. “These are heavenly!”

“Thank you!” Emily smiles, her cheeks now flushed. “I don’t make them that often though.”

“I can see why! It’s tough to stay away from them, shit.”

You finish the cookie and grab another one, causing everyone to giggle.

“It’s also why I told her to never, under any circumstances, share the recipe,” Benny adds. “This is cause for fight.”

“It sure is,” Will says.

You don’t realize you’re still in Santiago’s arms; when you do realize that, you inch away in the slightest, right under Frankie’s studious eyes. Curiosity has him by the throat, yet he can’t bring himself to ask you or Santiago any questions. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“Hi,” you finally greet Frankie, voice small and anxious.

“Hi,” he replies.

You’re tired of this; you are so tired of walking around on eggshells, measuring your words and actions and trying to stay away while also wanting to be part of the group again. It’s absolutely exhausting.

“You want something to drink?” Santiago offers, and you nod.

Frankie’s eyes don’t leave the two of you, silently studying you from the corner of his eye. He watches you go into the kitchen, exchange some words as Santiago opens up a beer bottle and hands it to you, and then he sees you lightly touching his arm.

He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know. It’s none of his business. He has no right asking or even caring anymore.

Then why does his chest ache so? Why does it feel like there’s a beast trapped inside of him that roars and scratches violently at the simplest of sights?

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“Okay, so,” Will announces, standing up now that you and Santiago return to the living room. “Now that we are all here.”

“Actually, Rose should be here any minute,” Santiago intervene.

“Oh. That’s okay, we can wait then.”

“What’s going on, guys?” you ask.

Will and Benny exchange a glare, as well as Mia and Emily, and you instantly know both couples have news. The options are limited, although you can pretty much figure out what’s going on before it’s even said.

And before you know it, you’re halfway through the beer bottle, wishing you had called a cab instead of driving to the bungalow.

“Well, uh… Mia and I are engaged,” Will says, reaching to grab his now fiancé’s hand.

It’s then that you notice the ring on Mia’s finger, shining as brightly as her eyes when she looks at Will. Laudatory exclaims burst among you all, and you’re quick to finish your beer before hugging Mia and then Will. Your heart swells and trembles with even more happiness, admiring them as Santiago and Frankie congratulate their friend.

“Benny has some news too,” Will chuckles.

All eyes turn to Benny, who instead looks over at Emily. Her cheeks burn auburn still, indicating nervousness and flattery.

“We’re moving in together,” she says.

More congratulations are being shared, the entire group hugging the other happy couple. You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this very moment.

Or lonelier.

What a fascinating mixture, that of delight for your friends and loneliness for yourself. Contradictory, opposing poles, yet equally true.

You don’t let it show, though. Tonight it’s cause for celebration, and you are too focused on your friends’ fulfilled lives to allow any negative emotion impact it.

Although you can’t help but think that your steps are guided by some sort of negative emotion when you find yourself into the kitchen, grabbing another beer to toast to your friends.

“To Will and Benny, finally committed and off of our hands,” Santiago toasts, and you all laugh. “Girls, best of luck.”

“Here, here!”

You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, and you swiftly notice a text from Rose: “Be there soon, max one hour. Sorry for the delay!” You don’t know why, but your stomach drops. Rose will be there soon, why do you feel so disarmed and hopeless? It doesn’t make much sense, and you don’t try to dig deeper. Not tonight.

You’re feeling a bit of a mess, so the best you can do is smile and nod along, drinking cheerfully along your very joyful and gratified friends. You look at them all, admiring and holding out hope for all of them, so much so that you forget about yourself momentarily. Just for one moment, you forget about the confusing mixture of feelings and how it fucks you up in this very moment.

So Will is engaged, Benny’s getting his own place with his girlfriend, and Frankie is engaged. That leaves you and Santiago as the lonely bachelors in the group.

Except Santiago’s smitten with Rose, and vice versa, and you have a feeling those two will end up together. Which means, when that’ll inevitably happen, it will be just you. Stuck in the same cycle, no matter how hard you have tried to run away from it or tell yourself you changed.

Definitely should’ve taken a cab. Tonight requires a whole lot more drinking.

Music starts blasting in the speakers, with the two happy couples and Frankie settling for an excited talk regarding the upcoming nuptials and move-in. You settle in the kitchen, taking a seat and sipping from your beer while your eyes remain on the five people on the couch. There is an odd sense of melancholy washing over you, like you are an intruder in all of those people’s lives, and that they’d be much happier without you. Like their lives would also be easier without you.

“Hey,” Santiago’s voice brings you back to earth. “You okay?”

He takes the seat next to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah,” you reply flatly, voice a little shaky, too. “So many good news tonight already, it’s… a lot.”

“I’m pretty surprised myself. More by Benny, not Will. Will’s got this commitment thing covered. Benny, on the other hand…”

You chuckle, staring at the bottom of the beer that’s dangerously close now. “But look at him now. A grown man, our Benny.”

“They’re all moving on, building their lives.”

“Yep.”

“Guess it’s just you and me now. The last two bachelors of the group.”

You purse your lips together, staring at him in a haze. “Maybe you and I should’ve given this a proper go.”

Santiago smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Is that so?” he smiles.

“We might’ve actually had a real shot a while back.”

“At the very least we could’ve followed through with that little moment in the car.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“One complete and good memory from back then.”

You nod, reminiscing of the time when you returned to town for a few weeks, a couple of years back, and decided to try something new. You thought it was the right thing to do, but the short-lived romance proved otherwise for you both.

“Or we might’ve screwed things up completely,” you say.

“Or that.”

“I mean, look at me and Frankie. One wrong move and it’s all fucked up.”

You sigh deeply, your head now resting in the crook of Santiago’s neck. He smells of cologne and forest, fresh and… uncomplicated. His arm wraps around you, pulling you in closer.

All under Frankie’s eyes.

He can’t stop staring at the two of you, so close and intimate in the kitchen, and his mind starts to wonder, to fabricate little scenarios that make the room spin around him. It all comes crashing down on him when he starts to acknowledge the fact that you and Santiago make perfect sense.

“You good there, Fish?” Benny asks, hand on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

He’s blatantly staring and he didn’t even realize it till then. Now, his gaze returns upon those in the living room.

“You good?” Benny repeats the question.

“I’m good, yeah,” he replies.

“Cause… you were staring.”

“I was just… curious.”

Mia and Emily look over to the kitchen as well, then back at Frankie. “Oh, those two?” Mia chuckles. “Yeah, we’re curious, too.”

Frankie, instead, frowns.

“They’ve gotten very close in the past few years,” Will admits. “Not sure to what extent, but they sure are close.”

“I for one think that if there is something going on, we should give them some space,” Emily says. “Friends dating… it can be tricky to navigate. Let’s leave them alone in the meantime.”

Frankie gulps, finishing his beer, eager for another one. He stands up, heads to the kitchen, where he locks eyes with you and Santiago. The two of you separate, staring at him, but Frankie doesn’t say a word. He just reaches in the fridge for another beer, opens it and walks away, right outside into the cold.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He definitely shouldn’t care.

“What’s with him?” you ask.

“I have no idea.  Maybe it’s the stress of planning a wedding.”

“Right.”

The doorbell is heard, turning towards Santiago with a smile. “That’s Rose.”

You see him take a deep breath, his mind clearly racing just as much as his heart, and you know he’s overthinking the moment. You have the same look on your face when you do it.

“Go,” you nearly push him off the chair. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m going, okay? I don’t wanna seem too eager.”

“You’re reeking of neediness already. Go.”

When you’re alone in the kitchen, you have the nerve to finish the beer, then raiding for another one. You’re probably going to regret this, but you need something to take the edge off.

You spy into the living room, noticing Santiago and Rose emerged into a conversation filled with shy smiles and flushed cheeks, and you smile. God, I hope this works between them. They’re too good for each other to not make this work.

But life sometimes has a funny and cruel way of pulling two perfect people apart from each other. You’ve experienced it firsthand, and you’d hate seeing this happen to two of the dearest people in your life.

You keep hearing music, and after a while, those in the living room start dancing with each other and you take that as your cue to leave. You feel like an extra there, just looking at the happy couples giggling and talking to each other.

Before you know it, you find yourself outside, slowly inhaling the cold air. You’re a bit tipsy, so this is just what you need to remain grounded in the present. A present where you’re basically left behind, alone, just you and the professional ladder you are desperately trying to climb in order to feel like you are achieving something.

By all means, you are happy. You have a great new job, great life, health… everything is good. So there is no reason for you to be feeling like this, is there?

“It’s freezing, you should get back inside,” a voice shouts.

You come to realize that it’s Frankie. He’s on the porch, few inches away, barely staring at you.

“Could tell you the same thing,” you say.

“I happen to be okay with the cold. I know you hate it.”

You tsk, hating how much he still knows about you. You stare into the far off distance, beer in hand. Luckily the alcohol keeps you a little warm, so you don’t really care about the freezing temperatures right now.

“Needed some air,” you say.

“Aka a break from all the happy inside.”

“I didn’t say—“

“You didn’t have to.”

“Would you just—knock it off?”

It is now that you turn to meet his gaze, fury radiating from your eyes. He can feel it, too; you see it in his body language, the way he’s trying to make himself seem smaller next to you. But he doesn’t avert his eyes. Instead, he seems to be staring right at you, with a certain darkness in his eyes that you fail to recognize.

“Look, I’m tired of this, Frankie,” you surrender. “I am sick and tired of trying my hardest to be distant and keep you at bay… and I’m sorry I’m acting like a bitch. I am not, I’m really not.”

“I know you’re not. You got every right to act this way, though.”

You chuckle. “Well, at least you understand what the situation is.”

“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot, okay? I know this is… fucked up and hurtful and messy… but I miss you.”

The moment he says that, your heart begins to race like crazy.

“As a—friend,” he clarifies, gulping.

“I want us to function normally too, like we used to, but I don’t know if it’s possible, Frankie. I gotta respect you and Andrea’s relationship, and… a single woman is not to be around a committed guy.”

Frankie scoffs, finishing his beer and putting the empty bottle on the porch, half in snow. “Single? Really?”

“Yes, really. Why?”

He falters, trips over his own thoughts, and he keeps quiet. It’s his best play at this very moment.

“I missed you too,” you confess shyly, in an almost non-existent voice.

But he hears it. He hears and sees you crystal clear, burning and aching with his whole body. He should not be feeling this way. He should not be surprised that you’d be interested in Santiago. He should not be upset by it, nor should he be feeling this way around you. It’s not okay. It’s not normal to burn this much for someone.

And yet here he is, secretly doing it anyway, and shoving it deep down with every ounce of strength imaginable.

You sneak a peek through the window, noticing Rose still talking to Santiago, seemingly laughing out loud, and your heart quickly swells and then deflates. When you finish your beer, you find Frankie to stand much closer to you, cutting out the air from your lungs. You barely feel the cold anymore, even if your fingers turn purple and your face is red with something you can’t quite discern.

“I’m really sorry that I let you go,” he mutters. “I was a dick. Pope reminds me once or twice a year.”

You actually chuckle. “Good.”

“He’s a great friend.”

“That he is.”

“And you guys seem to be very close. Kind of like…”

“We used to be?”

He nods. When your eyes meet and neither shies away, it’s electric. It’s a rush, a moment filled with unspoken emotion. You want to look away, you know this should not be happening, and yet you can’t look away. It’s years of deprivation, missing him and missing the two of you, but you just don’t want to look away from him.

You just want to look at him, admire him for the man that he’s turned into. Nothing more.

“I missed you,” he repeats, his voice almost like he’s begging. “So much.”

You don’t reply. You can’t really focus; your mind is foggy, clouded by all sorts of emotions tonight, and you know you should back off, act with respect. Because, at the end of the day, you do respect Frankie and his relationship with Andrea, and you respect Andrea just as much.

Every cell in your body screams at you to just back off, go back inside to your friends and celebrate alongside them. You swear you moved your feet in the desired direction. You start to feel warm again, warm all over, particularly your face.

Seconds later, you realize that is because there is warm breath all over your face, and your lips become swollen, reddened with a foreign, yet familiar and much needed touch.

Another few seconds later and you realize that Frankie’s lips are on yours, and his hand cups your cheek, pulling you in.

The worst of it is, you kiss him back. You kiss him back till you’re running out of air and Frankie’s breath is the sole source of air that you have. You kiss him back till you become fully aware of the implications, and then, before you can pull away, Frankie does it first.

He pulls away from you, his lips just as swollen and red as yours, and he stares at you in shock. Truthfully, you’re just as shocked, unable to utter a single word.

“I’m so sorry,” he coos, looking around in disbelief. “I am… so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should go.”

You still don’t say anything. You simply stare at him, incapable to remove the feeling of his soft lips pressed hastily on yours.

He’s slowly backing away from you, eyes locked with yours, as he keeps muttering “I should go”. So he goes, leaving you half frozen on the porch, with a taste on your lips that nothing would ever wash away.

previous | next

[bluejaysandblackbats]

It Takes A Village

Fandom: YJ98, Flashfam, DC Comics

Summary: After witnessing Bart murder someone, his friends scramble to cover Bart's tracks and stumble upon an international scandal as a result.

(Minor background: Bart took a gap year, and Conner did two years of community college. This starts shortly after Bart's 19th birthday. So, Conner and Jenni are 20, Bart and Cissie are 19, Tim and Cassie are 18, I made Greta 17 for the sake of the fic, and Judy is 15. I decided to make Owen 22 and Thad 16 for plot reasons. Clark and Conner are brothers in this fic, and Clark is 12 years older for the sake of this fic, so he's 32.)

Chapters: 11/?

Characters: Bart Allen, Conner Kent, Judy Garrick, Jay Garrick, Joan Garrick, Cissie King-Jones, Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake, Greta Hayes, Jenni Ognats, Thad Thawne, Owen Mercer, Meloni Thawne, Clark Kent, Wally West, Linda Park, Courtney Whitmore, President Thawne

Relationship(s): KonBart, CissieCassie, WallyLinda

Additional Tags: Serial Killer AU, No Powers AU, Angst, Dark Comedy, Bart Allen Kills in This Fic, Minor Thad Thawne, Separated in Childhood, Some Smut in This

Chapter Eleven: The Road to Hell

Bart lay motionless for nearly an hour, staring upward with laser focus. His mind played over everything he’d planned, and he kept his breathing even and slow. The door opened, and he heard a weak cough, Bart waited for the car to go dark as he raised up. His arms rested on his chest as he used his stomach to raise up, gently and quietly to keep from shaking the car. By the time the man noticed him, it was too late. Bart pulled the cord tight around the man’s neck, He leaned back, bearing down as he tightened his gloved grip on Dr. Donnovan’s neck. The man struggled for air and a grip on the cord, fighting for nearly two minutes before he lost consciousness. Bart held on for several minutes before he finally let go. The man was dead. Undeniably dead. Bart got out and opened the front door. Bart took a melon baller and scooped the man’s injured eye out. He set it on the dashboard, a tongue in his back teeth as he focused on the act. He shut the door with his hip and quickly shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked out the opposite end of the alley before placing his soiled gloves in a plastic zip-sealed bag. He walked to his grandfather’s office and washed the coveralls and gloves in the washing machine twice while he showered. 

The ice-cold water kept him calm while his adrenaline pumped. He slowly turned the water up as he deep cleaned. Despite wearing gloves, Bart still insisted on scrubbing his hands. He conditioned his hair, trying to calm himself down, but he was giddy and warm inside. The warm water didn’t help, so he turned the water down again, rinsing and scrubbing his body under ice water until he started shaking violently. Bart moisturized his skin, putting powder on, and lightly spritzing himself with cologne.

He stashed a few pairs of underwear in the locker and dressed in another one of Barry’s sweatsuits. He put the coveralls in the dryer. His sweatpants fit baggy and the sweatshirt swallowed him, but he left in them as soon as his coveralls were dry and put away. Bart’s car was parked out front with his travel bag in the car, so he drove straight from there to Conner’s. 

He was a day early, so Conner didn’t expect him. His hands shook and his heart pumped as he approached Conner’s dorm apartment. He called Conner, so he wouldn’t wake Cassie and Greta. And Conner crept to the door, half-asleep and smiling. “You said you’d be here tomorrow mor—.” 

Bart kissed Conner’s neck as he reached underneath his shirt. “Take your clothes off,” Bart whispered as he kissed Conner's neck, up his jawline to his lips. He rubbed the front of Conner’s shorts as he begged. “Please…” Conner pulled away. 

“Not here… You’re gonna wake the girls up,” Conner whispered. Bart let his teeth graze Conner’s neck as he breathed on him. “Let me show you my room.” 

Bart followed Conner to the bedroom where he dropped his bag and stripped down to nothing, and he lifted Conner’s shirt, kneeling on his uninjured knee as he kissed Conner’s stomach, his lips dragging against Conner’s belly button down to his waistband. Teeth caught Conner’s waistband, and Bart pulled his basketball shorts off with his mouth, his chin grazing Conner’s bulge on the way down. Conner stopped him. “What are you doing here?” Conner chuckled. 

Bart looked up, blinking hard as Conner pulled him to his feet. “I couldn’t sleep… I got so hard on the drive here just thinking about you—.” Bart stopped mid-sentence to pull Conner’s shirt off. “Why do you still have your clothes on?” 

Bart lifted him up before falling onto the bed. Bart kissed Conner all over, his mouth open and hungry, tongue tasting skin, teeth gently biting tender flesh. “Don’t stop,” Conner whispered. 

Bart nodded, spreading Conner’s legs to kiss his inner thighs. He lay on his stomach while he did it, grinding against Conner’s sheets as he came up for air. Conner reached into a tin lunchbox and gave Bart a condom. Bart was impatient, returning to Conner’s inner thighs. He sucked and kissed them, and Conner spread out on the bed, reaching out to clutch the sheets. Conner accidentally grabbed the remote, turning on the TV, and it drowned out his moans. “I missed you too… but if you don’t slow down—.” Bart pressed a knuckle to Conner’s taint as he took Conner into his mouth. Conner’s toes curled, and he arched into Bart’s mouth. Bart bobbed a few times before rising up for air. 

“You can cum. It’s okay… Whenever you want…. Wherever you want,” Bart whispered, almost begging. 

“I—.” Conner patted the bed, searching for the condom he dropped, and he touched Bart’s chest with it. Bart gripped his thighs, pulling him close as he thrust inside him. “Bart—. Fuck.” 

Bart pulled out, unsatisfied with their position, and he flipped Conner onto his stomach. Before Conner could catch his breath, Bart grabbed his hair, pulling him up by wrapping his arm around Conner’s chest, and driving into Conner by rolling his hips and stomach. Conner gasped, surprised at how fast and rough Bart moved. Bart wrapped a hand around Conner’s dick, licking Conner’s neck as he pumped into him. Bart grunted. “Cumming,” Bart groaned. Conner fell onto his palms, and Bart stroked Conner faster before stopping to spit into his hand. Conner reached for a towel with just seconds to spare before he collapsed into the pillows. 

Several minutes passed in silence. Conner lay on his stomach, his eyes drooping, and his body warm. Bart caught his breath, but he couldn’t turn off his mind. As soon as Conner started to nod off, he felt Bart grinding against him. “Bart?” Conner chuckled. 

“Please… More,” Bart mumbled as he kissed Conner’s shoulder. Conner lay on his back, gently stroking as he looked at Bart. “Can you—?”

“I can…”

**

Conner trembled as Bart kissed his neck and shoulders. “Okay,” Conner sternly whispered. 

“Okay?” Bart asked.

“I’m exhausted,” Conner answered. Bart lay on his side, pushing Conner’s bangs out of his face. 

His eyes softened as he looked Conner over. “Did I hurt you somewhere?” Bart asked. He could make out a few bruises on Conner’s thighs, and he frowned at Conner’s ruddy and sweaty appearance. 

“No. No, you didn’t hurt me… I just didn’t expect—. It was crazy,” Conner laughed as tears streamed down his cheeks. Conner couldn’t catch his breath, his body and mind were completely overstimulated by their exchange. Bart sat up. “Oh no, I’m not… I just need to cool down. You didn’t hurt me. No… I’m just a little overwhelmed. Let me catch my breath for a minute.”

Bart grabbed his sweatshirt off of Conner’s desk and offered it to Conner to keep him warm. “I’m sorry. Maybe I could get you—. I won’t do this—.” 

Conner pulled Bart into his arms, and he kissed Bart’s cheek. “You didn’t hurt me. I promise. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t like. I promise… How are you feeling? Do you feel better?” Conner questioned as he wiped the sweat from Bart’s brow. 

“I feel better… I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Bart replied. “You’re so soft.” 

“That’s because I’m sleepy,” Conner whispered. 

“Okay… Goodnight,” Bart whispered. Bart got up, searching his bag for a sleeping pill, and he took one with water. Conner was fast asleep before Bart returned to the bed, and he climbed in, closing his eyes as he allowed sleep to flood in. 

**

Bart woke up before dawn, stretching out and glancing down at Conner who hadn’t moved an inch since they fell asleep. He pulled the blankets over Conner’s shoulders before going to shower and brush his teeth. 

After he got dressed, he joined Conner, sitting beside him. Conner smiled, still half-asleep as he reached for Bart. “You smell so good,” Conner mumbled. 

“Thanks,” Bart whispered. He traced the line of Conner’s jaw. “Gorgeous… Good morning.” 

“It’s morning?” Conner questioned. 

Bart chuckled, reaching under the covers to rub Conner’s back. “Do you want breakfast in bed?” Bart offered. Conner opened one eye. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Conner grinned. Bart scrunched down beside him, looking him in the eyes as he moved close enough to almost kiss him. Close enough for Conner to lose his breath. 

“I just want you to know how important you are to me… And I want bacon,” Bart replied. Conner laughed. 

“Eggs and pancakes too?” Conner asked. Bart smiled, his lips brushing against Conner’s. 

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll never leave,” Bart teased. “Go shower. I’ll start breakfast.” 

**

Greta yawned as she left her room, smelling the bacon, and she shuffled toward Bart with her eyes shut. Greta’s head drooped forward drowsily against Bart’s back. “Good morning,” Greta mumbled. 

“Are you hungry?” Bart asked. Greta opened her eyes and squealed as she embraced him. Bart chuckled. “I missed you too.”

Bart turned toward her, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “When did you get here?” Greta asked. 

“Two-ish. How’s school?” Bart asked. 

Greta stood on her tiptoes, looking at the bacon sizzling in the skillet. “School’s fine. I’m taking a film class. I think you’d enjoy it. We’re in this unit called Elements of Genre. It’s a two-term class. At the end of this unit, we have to write a paper on our favorite genre and pick a few key elements from a movie of our choice. Conner said you were a good writer, so I was wondering if you’d proofread it for me when I’m done,” Greta requested. Bart turned the fire off and turned his attention to the eggs. 

Bart grinned at her. “I’ll do you one better... When you pick a movie, I’ll watch it with you. How about it?” Bart offered. Greta nodded excitedly before she noticed something… And she always noticed something. Even if she didn’t say anything. She cocked her head, letting her pursed lips tilt to the side. “What’s wrong?” 

“You’re different… Why are you different?” Greta asked. 

“I was sick last week… But I’m better now,” Bart answered. 

She shook her head. The distinct glimmer in her downturned eyes told Bart everything he needed to know. Greta saw the shift in his behavior, but she couldn’t attribute it to anything he’d seen or done. He pinched her cheek and turned away from her, trying to keep her from digging further. “You’re happier today. A lot happier,” Greta whispered. Bart pinched her cheek between his pointer finger and middle finger knuckles. 

“Does it scare you?” Bart asked as he leaned forward. Greta shook her head. 

“You don’t scare me,” Greta grinned. It set Bart’s heart at ease. “Cassie’s still sleeping, but I can wake her up.” 

Bart turned the fire low, and he shook his head. “Do you think she’ll mind if I go in there to talk?” Bart asked. Greta shook her head. “Can you do me a favor and watch the eggs? I’ll come back.” Greta took the spatula from him, and he left the kitchen. 

He entered Cassie’s room and nudged her. She opened her eyes and jumped. “Bart, oh my—. When did you get here?” Cassie asked. 

Bart scrunched his nose up as he grinned. “Two. I didn’t wanna wake you guys up, so I texted Conner. I couldn’t sleep, so I got on the road... If you don’t want me here, ” Bart teased, “Sorry, Cissie couldn’t come. She had a game.” Cassie hugged him. 

“That’s alright. How are you? You were sick,” Cassie replied. 

Bart softened. “I’m good. It was an overexertion thing,” Bart replied. Cassie frowned and nodded. “If I rest any more, you’ll have to put me in a coffin. I’ll bring you guys breakfast in a minute.” 

**

Bart typed his paper for class while Conner did chin-ups in the doorway. The news played in the background, and Conner watched quietly. Bart’s phone rang, and he answered. “Hi, Thad,” Bart greeted him warmly. 

“My doctor is dead… Dr. Donnovan was—.” 

“Which one is that?” Bart interrupted. He hated lying to Thad, but he refused to pull him into a mess. 

“I want to talk to you. I have to tell you I’m scared,” Thad cried. 

Bart sat up straight. “Don’t be upset. I’ll get you a ticket here if you need me. I’m not home until Monday, but you can come here then. Will you be okay until then?” Bart questioned. Thad sobbed and gasped. “Thaddeus, breathe. I promise you can come with me as soon as I get home.” Conner dropped down from the chin-up bar, and he cocked his head. 

“I can wait,” Thad cried. 

“Good… Now, give the phone to Helen or Max. I gotta explain this to them,” Bart gently commanded. It hurt his heart, and he had to step up and do something to make it better. 

He listened as Thad gave his phone to someone, and he could hear Helen’s boyfriend in the background. “Bart, what’s going on? Thad won’t explain anything to me, but he’s been hysterical since he woke up this morning,” Max asked. 

“He wants to stay with me for a little while, but he’s afraid you’ll say no. I told him I’d fly him out on Monday if it’s alright with you. I’ll take him to class with me,” Bart offered. 

“What’s going on?” Max questioned. 

Bart sighed. “I’m not sure… He sounds like he’s freaking out, though. I don’t want him worrying himself sick. Let me fly him out on Monday, Max,” Bart pleaded. 

“Okay… How long do you plan on keeping him?” Max asked. 

Conner wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt before kissing Bart’s temple. “Um… I don’t know. Maybe a week. I’ll call you beforehand if something changes,” Bart answered. Max hummed.

“You know what, Bart? I’m proud of you. I’m glad you’re offering to look after your brother,” Max whispered. 

Bart lay back on the floor. “It’s good… Let me give him the good news,” Bart replied. His stomach was in knots as he listened to the exchange. 

“Max said it’s okay… I’ll pick you up from the airport Monday afternoon. I’ll send your ticket tonight. Don’t talk to Mom about the doctor who died. Why’s that got you in knots anyway? Stupid sprokking doctors were evil. I hope they all—.” 

“Bart, don’t… Grandpa might—. I think Grandpa’s going to send people to look into it. Retrieval people,” Thad whispered. He seemed much calmer, but Bart could hear the fear in Thad’s voice. 

“What the hell do you mean? What do you mean retrieval people?” Bart asked. 

Thad didn’t say anything for a long time. “The people that killed our father and aunt… And people from the observatory. Lawyers and doctors. Scientists. I think it’s an observatory kid. It has to be. What if they—?”

“No one will ever hurt you again. Do you hear me?” Bart asked. “I will never let anyone do anything bad to you ever again. I love you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. Go pack. I’ll call you again before bed.”

“Okay,” Thad replied, “Bye.”

“Bye,” Bart whispered before hanging up. He groaned and pressed his palms to his eyelids. 

Conner leaned over him. “What’s the matter, hon?” Conner asked. 

Hon. That was cute. Bart smiled, but it didn’t take away the anxiety of Thad’s situation. “My brother’s freaking out. He wants to stay with me for a little bit. I said yeah,” Bart mumbled. 

“Do you regret it?” Conner asked. 

“Nuh uh… He’s my baby brother. I knew he’d end up staying with me once I moved out this way… He’s just a kid. I just—. I didn’t realize how much I cared. I just offered to fly him out. I don’t know why I did that,” Bart mumbled. 

Conner pulled Bart up into his arms. “I love you. I sometimes forget how big your heart is. I need you to know that,” Conner whispered, “You’re gonna be fine.” 

Bart didn’t say anything as he let his weight drop into Conner’s arms. Conner kissed Bart’s cheek, pressing his nose to the side of Bart’s face. “Can you tell me again?” Bart asked. Conner smiled. 

“You’ll be fine… And Thad will be, too. You know, this makes me think about Clark and the little bit of time that I stayed with him. Bart, take it from me. Sometimes younger brothers just want to know they mean something to you,” Conner whispered, “I try to pretend I don’t care, but I look at Clark like he’s perfect. I try to look for the flaws sometimes, but I know it’ll just—. Sorry. It’s not—.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I want to hear it,” Bart whispered. Conner smiled against Bart’s cheek. 

“I’ve been through so many phases because of Clark. At first, I wanted nothing to do with him. I was hit with so many comparisons that I was convinced I had to be his polar opposite to be seen as my own person… And then some... stuff happened that made me want to—. I didn’t want to be me, but he figured it out pretty fast. I think it made us close. We both had stuff going on at the time, and Clark was really understanding when I finally told him everything I’d been going through,” Conner explained. Bart didn’t press for Conner to elaborate. He worried that it would only open up old wounds. Without words or any idea of an appropriate response, he took Conner’s palm and kissed it. 

“I—. I feel weird like I’m keeping a secret from you… But, I—. I don’t know how to talk about what happened without feeling like—.”

“Is it something I have to know?” Bart asked. Conner looked down, pondering over Bart’s question. 

“No,” Conner answered. 

“Would it help me treat you better?” Bart questioned. Conner shook his head, timidly pressing his forehead into Bart’s shoulder. “Then, it’s none of my business… And until you feel comfortable, I’m okay with that. You’ve never forced me to talk about anything I didn’t want to.” And he meant it. It was an accidentally transactional agreement. A perfectly expressed and partially selfish loophole, but he thought his heart was in the right place.

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

Like Real People Do, Chapter Eleven

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav x Astarion Ancunín

Chapter Synopsis: Seraphina stumbles in her faith while events at Moonrise Towers lead Astarion to finally get something off his chest.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Four and a Half. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Nine and a Half. Chapter Ten.

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 5.3k

Notes: Time to make way for the angst.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Eleven: Tell me where your love lies

Tell me where your love lies Waste the day and spend the night Underneath the sunrise Show me where your love lies

Seraphina was silent as Astarion exchanged words with Vadan. The words, harsh and insulting from Astarion and passive-aggressive from Vadan, floated in and out of her ears. Astarion took her hand and led her into the inn. If he was speaking to her, she didn’t process any of it. She was underwater – everything was muffled and murky. He didn’t lead her back to the table where their companions were now playing a card game with a few Harpers. Instead, Astarion walked her upstairs.

The vampire pulled a brass key from his pocket and unlocked a room. He shut the door behind Seraphina and, with two quick fire bolts, Astarion lit candles in the room. It was when his hands settled on her hips and pushed her against the door that some of the fog lifted.

“I’m not too fond of another elf taking you away like that,” Astarion whispered, pressing his body against hers. 

“Astarion, I have to get back downstairs – ” 

“Hush,” he continued. Astarion leaned forward and kissed Seraphina hungrily. Her body responded. She allowed him to kiss and nip down her jaw and neck, his hands working at the clips holding her armor together. She tangled her fingers in his hair, desperate to hold on to something. His fangs grazed her neck before they pressed lightly in one spot and he paused, asking permission. She nodded and she waited for the expected pain, but none came, as Astarion instead slowly grazed his fangs down her neck.

“You don’t seem to be that present,” Astarion whispered, one hand squeezing her ass and the other holding her jaw. “Is your former lover on your mind?”

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type, Astarion.”

“What is there to be jealous of? A barbaric oaf who thought he could just waltz up for a hug after how he left you?” Astarion scoffed. “Or the wizard who thinks asking if you’ve read any naughty books is adequate seduction?”

“You have incredibly stiff competition. Don’t act so sure,” she replied, forcing a smile.

“And yet you’re right here with me, beautiful,” he grinned, kissing her again before lowering his lips back to her neck. “May I?”

Seraphina nodded. When she felt the pain of his bite, she returned to her thoughts, grateful she didn’t have to continue faking happiness for just a few moments.

What did she truly want for her life? It seemed ridiculous to think about when death or transformation into a mind flayer hung over her head, but only entertaining the possibility of survival was keeping her sane. Her current path had led to her to the hells and put her at risk of becoming a mind flayer. If she had acquiesced to Vadan’s request to end her trial and stop adventuring, right now she would be comfortable in a home with a warm hearth, blissfully unaware of the Absolute until her husband arrived home with stories of his recent conflicts.

If she survived this and passed her trial, she would spend most of her time on the road, risking her life, fulfilling Tymora’s divine commands for centuries. If she survived and ended her trial…what would that life, a life exiled from her family and her temple, look like? All she really knew about herself was that she liked traveling and helping people. It would be a life without designated purpose or direction. A real life where she made her own decisions and chased her own whims. She’d be alive.

It could be a life where she wasn’t at risk of death all the time. A life where lovers didn’t run because it was dangerous to love her. In the time since Vadan, she had fumbled through flings and people who were seemingly incapable of loving or entirely unwilling to love her. She obviously had no idea what she was doing, as Vadan had often told her when they traveled together. He knew what was best for her. She had no idea what her purpose was.

Maybe she should leave this room and go back to Vadan. Apologize and reconcile their relationship. She could end her trial. After confronting the cult at Moonrise, the tadpole would be gone if she was lucky, and they could go to the Gate and be married. She didn’t know what she wanted, and he had everything planned out. It would be wiser to follow Vadan rather than continue fumbling through the fog as she had in pursuit of some destiny that had been planned for her long before she was born. 

She’d been a foolish puppet, blind to every possibility that wasn’t the future Tymora, her family, and her temple decided for her, and now death was her only reward.

A snap.

“Seraphina.”

Seraphina’s eyes focused on Astarion’s hand in front of her face as he snapped again. Their armor was scattered on the ground, the vampire having nearly completely disrobed her while she got lost in her thoughts. She couldn’t make out his expression. He seemed just as irritated as he seemed concerned, her blood staining his lips. He had become impossible to read lately. Had she ever been able to read him? As she looked into his crimson eyes, sadness hit her in a wave, and Seraphina frowned. Astarion was just another soul that she had attempted to flood with kindness and sympathy, hoping that he would love her, when the reality was that he only wanted her body. He only wanted her body while she was desperately holding out her heart.

And then there was Gale. Gale who was charming, erudite, compassionate, and supportive. When she looked at her life, there was no one like him in its archive until she stopped at that unstable sigil near the nautiloid. She felt a sense of peace and confidence with him that she had previously only associated with her faith in Tymora. Gale had become important to her in a way that few other traveling companions had before. How lucky the world was to have him, and yet he was resolute in doing what was necessary to gain his goddess’ forgiveness, which meant his death was imminent.

“You don’t want this,” Astarion said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I…I…” she stammered. She gulped. “Can you just hold me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. She watched his eyes dart to look at the door behind her, as if he wanted to run. His eyes flicked back to her, and a silence stretched on. Seraphina held her breath. Were they finally going to say it? Was he going to call whatever this was between them something and declare that he wanted her for more than her blood and stolen moments in their tents or in the forest? Or was he afraid of this? Was he afraid of her too?

“Come lay down, darling,” he murmured, squeezing her waist. No. They weren’t going to talk about it. She silently followed him over to the bed. The mattress was barely big enough for both of them, creaky, and slightly damp. Astarion rested his head against the pillows and awkwardly held open his arms. She laid on top of him, pressing her forehead against his bare chest and wrapping her arms around his stiff torso. She felt his arms slowly wrap around her.

She breathed in his scent of bergamot and brandy, the smell that had soothed her heart over the last few weeks. After a few minutes, she felt Astarion relax beneath her, his hands beginning to rub over her back and arm. She hummed, some of her dread ebbing away. She would’ve liked to stay like this forever.

“What’s on your mind, love?” Astarion asked.

“Do you care?” Seraphina replied.

“Strangely, yes.”

“I fucked up everything in my life in order to end up here.”

“You’re just now realizing that? You’re not special for that,” Astarion responded. “Darling, something went wrong for every single one of us in our little band of freaks.”

“What’s your plan after this?”

Astarion’s hands paused, stopping on Seraphina’s lower back and wrist.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She shifted, resting her chin on his chest to look at him. He was genuinely baffled.

“What’s your plan after we destroy the Absolute and we’re free?” Seraphina asked.

“You may be free after we get these parasites out, but I won’t. I’ll only be free if I kill Cazador,” Astarion replied, his nose crinkling when he said the vampire lord’s name.

“And I’m going to help you do that. But what comes next? What do you want?”

Astarion’s mouth opened and closed again. His lips twitched.

“I…I haven’t ever been able to consider that,” he murmured.

Seraphina’s heart broke for him. She removed one of her hands from around him and gently pushed a few hairs behind his ear. His eyes closed briefly.

“I hope we’ll all have time to figure out what we want after this,” she whispered. 

“Hmm. You truly are a little optimistic fool, aren’t you?” Astarion hummed as he guided Seraphina’s cheek to his chest.

“One of us has to be,” she replied.

“Well, I am hopeful for something…”

“Go on.”

“But it may require some help from a devil.”

x x x

Raphael happened to be right downstairs. Seraphina tried to shake away memories of the last time a devil took a worrying amount of interest in the party that she traveled with while Astarion laid out his request for a deal. After a talk, where Raphael seemed far too eager to find a method of payment, Seraphina parted ways with Astarion, resuming her duties as the leader of the party. She paid the innkeeper for dinner for her people, accompanied Karlach to get her second upgrade from the smith Dammon, led Halsin to an unconscious man named Art, traded to get potions and new equipment for everyone, and finally sat down for a drink with Jaheira. 

Seraphina wasn’t pleased with being drugged with a truth herb when she had intended to be honest with the High Harper, but she understood the druid’s actions. Seraphina took the party with her to meet the cleric Isobel and receive the blessing that would protect them from the harsh land and any sense of calm was immediately shattered.

The attempted abduction of Isobel by Absolutists made it clear that the party had to infiltrate Moonrise immediately. After briefly meeting the infamous Ketheric Thorm, they all scouted out the tower, taking notes about the floorplan and guard posts and formations.

“Oh gods,” Astarion gagged, gaping at a strange doorway that was filled with a purple-pink fleshy membrane. “All of them deserve a grisly death for this alone.”

“Well, with the offal on the walls and the ghoulish lighting, I think they’ve certainly achieved the macabre ambience they were going for,” Gale added.

“I bet you won’t stick your hand in it,” Karlach snickered.

“You’re more than welcome to do the honors of such a task, my friend,” Astarion replied.

“Is anyone putting down gold for touching it?” Seraphina said mischievously as she reached out towards a closed door. 

“Can you not see that this monstrosity resembles the flesh on the ghaik ship? Don’t touch it,” Lae’zel hissed.

“It’s bad enough to have the one tadpole,” Shadowheart grumbled.

“Or in Astarion’s case…five,” Wyll commented.

“Still alive and tentacle free. Any of you are welcome to try it the next time we split open a True Soul’s skull,” Astarion replied.

As most of her companions wandered into the kitchen, Seraphina continued through the door next to her, carefully peeking her head through. It was yet another dimly lit room, but this one vaguely smelled of herbs, blood, and smoke. At tables against the wall stood a drow woman with braids across the side of her head. The tables were covered in various bottles, pieces of parchment, and alchemy tools.

The drow’s head whipped up at the sound of the door opening and she grinned, waving in Seraphina. As she stepped in, she heard a light flurry of steps and felt a pinch on her backside. She looked only to see Astarion behind her.

“Hey!” she squeaked, swatting his hand.

“It’s dangerous to wander off by yourself,” he shrugged with a smirk.

They both walked over closer to the drow.

“Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguineous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul. And your pale companion,” Araj smiled deviously at Astarion, who recoiled. “I’d like to offer my services, if you’re willing?”

“Why are you interested in my pale friend?” Seraphina asked.

“Please,” Araj scoffed. “You think someone in my line of work wouldn’t recognize a vampire spawn when they see one? I assume he belongs to you?”

Seraphina looked at her with disgust.

“Your assumption would be wrong. Astarion is his own person.”

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” Araj laughed mockingly before fixing her condescending gaze on Astarion.

“Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl. I’ve longed to dance on the edge between life and death. I’ll even compensate you – a potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it.”

“I will have to decline,” Astarion replied right away.

“Excuse me? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer,” Astarion growled, his fists clenched.

“Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?” Araj turned to Seraphina.

“He said no, so the matter can be dropped. I think we’ll be going now,” Seraphina said evenly, glaring at the drow. She and Astarion swiftly exited the room. Anger remained on Astarion’s face, his eyebrows furrowed, his nose crinkled, and his mouth twisted into a scowl.

“Are you alright?” Seraphina asked. “I think we have enough info that we can head out – ”

“Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Astarion snapped.

Seraphina blinked. 

“A-after what just happened, I was just trying to make sure you felt okay,” she stammered. She straightened and looked him in the eye before she whispered. “I’m not your enemy, Astarion.”

Astarion’s face softened and then he immediately frowned. 

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

Astarion walked away and Seraphina considered going after him, but it was obvious he needed his space. She wandered out towards the front room, her short stature making it easy for her to weave through the crowd of brainwashed fanatics.

“Praise the Absolute,” a few cultists said as she walked past.

A cold shiver trailed its way down Seraphina’s spine and fear settled in her bones as one of the men, wearing a dark cloak with the hood flipped up, continued smiling directly at her. He stood near a table with various equipment, potions, and weapons.

Alright, he’s just eager to make a sale she thought. She walked over to him, pulling out her pouch of gold as she touched the fabric of a robe.

“You might want to hide that little pendant of yours.”

Seraphina looked up from the robe in bewilderment. This close to him, she could see what he hid under his hood – black antlers peeked out from the very edges of the fabric. Rage began to flow in her veins.

“Your vile goddess won’t be able to protect you from being struck down at my hand,” Seraphina hissed, lightning sparking at her fingers as she prepared to shock the man.

“That wouldn’t be a very smart move, Tymoran. At least not before you hear the message I bring.”

Gods dammit. The less attention they drew while in the lair of the Absolute, the better. She lowered her hand, and she tucked her Tymoran necklace under her armor.

“I have no interest – ” 

“You intend to kill the General, yes?” the man cut her off.

Seraphina clenched her jaw. Both of their eyes quickly darted around the room, scanning. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.

“The only person listening is your lover. The vampire, yes?” the man said. Seraphina gulped. Her skin crawled knowing that the Black Fingers probably knew quite a lot about her party. She chose to ignore the comment as she watched, out of the corner of her eye, said vampire idly walking nearby in her orbit.

“Why do my intentions matter to Beshaba?”

“The Absolute is a threat that she intends to see eliminated. You seem like an asset in that endeavor.”

“Get to the point.”

“Your goddess continues to test you even while you risk your neck to defeat a cult that could destroy Faerûn. Why continue trusting in Tymora’s fickle luck when you, as a bringer of misfortune, could ensure the ensure the end of this crisis?”

Seraphina gawked at him.

“Beshaba is a fool if she thinks I would follow her,” she spat.

“Accept Beshaba’s boon and you will be able to save yourself. Or her misfortune can befall you and someone else will take your place.”

“No,” Seraphina hissed.

“My ship departs for Baldur’s Gate in 17 hours. I will be at the docks if you see reason,” the man said. 

Seraphina quickly walked away, her legs unstable and her entire body coated in sweat. She tried to even her breathing as her surroundings blurred around her. In the distance, she could see the deep purple of Gale’s robes. She stumbled closer and grasped his arm.

“Seraphina?” Gale said. Concern washed over his face, and he grabbed her upper arms, helping her to stand. Shadowheart turned and her eyes widened at Seraphina.

“Gods, what happened to you?” she asked.

“Could you try and give the others a little encouragement to get back to the inn faster? We’ll be right behind you,” Gale said to Shadowheart.

The half-elf looked to Seraphina, who nodded.

“Alright. But I don’t want to lose sight of either of you,” Shadowheart replied. She walked towards the front of the group. “You know, I overheard the innkeeper say he might cut dinner off early tonight.”

“What? No way he’d actually do that!” Karlach said.

“Then let’s pick up the pace a little, shall we?” Shadowheart said.

As the others began to walk a bit faster, exiting the doors of Moonrise, Seraphina saw Astarion, towards the back of the group, staring at her. His crimson eyes were as big as dinner plates. His eyes flicked towards Gale, but the wizard’s gaze was focused on the tiefling. Something crossed Astarion’s face, a slight frown pulling at the edges of his lips, but Seraphina didn’t have time to decipher it before the vampire whipped around and caught up with the others. She would endure his questioning about what he overheard later.

“Take a deep breath in,” Gale said softly. Seraphina complied.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Hold it.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Exhale for me.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Seraphina could feel her heart slowly reducing its thunderous beating. Gale grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Tell me. What do you see?”

At first, she looked at her surroundings and looking at the darkness, only slightly dispelled by the silvery protective aura that surrounded their bodies, only made the void in her stomach become larger and more consuming. She turned to look at Gale instead. His gentle smile. The lines that surrounded his attractive face. His gray hairs, signs of stress more than they were aging. His gorgeous, welcoming eyes.

“The biggest, brownest, most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” Seraphina gushed.

Gale chuckled.

“Most beautiful? I can only assume that you haven’t looked in a mirror in quite some time,” he replied, smiling before his face became serious. “What happened? Did that trader say something to you?”

She looked ahead towards their party. Did she want to burden him with this?

“He…he was a member of the Black Fingers.”

Gale’s face twisted in anger, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“We can’t go do anything to him. Not in front of all those cultists,” she said quickly.

“Did he threaten you?”

“No,” she replied. “He had a message from Beshaba.”

x x x

“Make your move.”

“I will if you could hold your tongue for just a moment.”

“I thought you were supposed to win tonight, Gale.”

“Yes, and I will. You are surely wise enough to understand that victory takes time.”

“Mhmm. Your steps towards victory just seem to be making you sweat.”

“I think you are more likely to be the cause of that.”

“Seraphina? Do you have a moment?”

The tiefling and the wizard looked up from the game of lanceboard that they were playing cross-legged on the ground in front of Gale’s tent. Astarion stood over them, his fingers tapping on his leg. Gale gave her a small smile, though she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“I think I have a long moment while Gale figures out how he’s going to save this game,” Seraphina grinned. “I’ll be back,” she said to Gale, standing.

Gale nodded at her as she followed Astarion into his tent. He wasn’t moving with his typical swagger and confidence. He seemed stiff and wilted as he kneeled and gestured for her to do the same. She sat and looked at him expectantly.

“I want to thank you,” Astarion said. Seraphina quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re welcome?” Seraphina replied quizzically. 

“For what you said while I was in front of that vile drow. I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master. You could have asked me to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t. And I’m grateful.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me?” Seraphina smirked.

“Oh, don’t look at me at like that. I’m as surprised as you are,” Astarion laughed. “It’s just…it would have been so easy to bite her. To just go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before.”

Seraphina shook her head.

“Your life is your own, Astarion. You make your own decisions now.”

“The entire reason for my existence was to seduce anything with a pulse. And every instinct I have tells me that nothing’s changed,” Astarion frowned. “That I’m still just a means to an end. You made me see I never stopped thinking like I was still his slave, even in freedom. But I’m more than that. More than a thing to be used.”

Seraphina twisted her lips as she considered Astarion’s words. 

“If you feel that way about sex, why sleep with me? Did you think you’d get something from it?”

Astarion paused. He lifted one hand and gently grabbed the back of Seraphina’s neck, pulling her into a kiss. Even with the familiarity of his mouth, this kiss felt…different. His tongue moved slowly, greedily, as if he was trying to memorize how her mouth felt. His fingers wandered into her hair and pulled, tilting her head back and making her open up more for him. Seraphina’s hands went to Astarion’s shoulders, gripping and dragging him closer. His passion made all the breath leave her body.

She felt ready to say it. She wanted to tell him the words that had danced on the edge of her tongue for the last few days. I love you. Despite and because of everything, I love you. He pulled away and she thought he was ready too. A goofy smile made her lips curve up.

Astarion smiled back at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

“All that nearly distracted me from what I asked you,” she replied.

Astarion’s tongue darted out to lick his lips and Seraphina felt his hand tremble on her neck.

“I slept with you because I needed protection. People don’t trust vampires – perhaps understandably – so I needed to get someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly,” Astarion said, huffing out a laugh with a gentle smile. “Imagine how stupid I felt when I started to genuinely feel something for you.”

Seraphina’s smile dropped. 

“Trust me, I was not happy about it. You were a complication in my plan that I didn’t see coming. And yet…” Astarion continued. Seraphina’s blood pumped violently in her ears. Astarion’s hand went from her neck to her cheek, and she snatched away from his touch.

She pored over her memories from the moment she met the vampire. The first night after the nautiloid when she offered to continue traveling together and he told her he didn’t want her to run off from him. The subtle and overt flirting that started in private and that soon bled over to often happening in front of the others in their party. All the times he’d held her and kissed her. His rare, but tooth-achingly sweet words of affection that made her insides warm and her heart flutter. All of it a farce.

“Astarion…you were manipulating me while I was — Is this conversation just another part of your plan?” Seraphina’s voice cracked.

Astarion’s face crumpled.

“It may have started with dishonest intentions, but that’s not what it is now. That’s not how it has been for some time,” Astarion replied, his tone urgent. “I didn’t want to, but I care for you now, and I want you to know the truth. You deserve that.”

“Is there anything else you’re hiding?”

Astarion hesitated, his eyes flickering to the corner of the tent. His gaze returned to her.

“We…have met before,” Astarion started. “One night a few years ago in the Blushing Mermaid.”

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed, searching her brain for the memory. No. Surely, she would remember meeting him. Surely. And yet…

There it was – a foggy half-forgotten memory. In her mind’s eye, among the many drunken nights she had spent at the Blushing Mermaid, there was that one night with the handsome, white-haired stranger that split a bottle of Suzailian Sweet with her. The stranger whose hot kisses and honeyed words nearly led her away from her companions that night. Rose, her halfling companion, had asked about him and Seraphina remembered saying he was a good kisser, but it was weird how cold his skin was.

Astarion would’ve only been in that tavern trying to seduce her for one reason.

“You were going to take me back to him,” she murmured.

“Yes.”

Bile rose up in Seraphina’s throat. 

“What is this between us to you now if not something dishonest? What do you want now?” Seraphina demanded.

“I…I’m not sure. I have no idea what I’m doing,” Astarion said, his voice cracked, and her anger dulled for a fraction of second as Astarion’s sudden vulnerability struck her.

“I want us…to be something real,” he whispered. Her entire body burned. She felt violently ill as she looked at the man that she had desired to share her soul with. Maybe she still did have that desire. But how could he be trusted? 

“I…I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she uttered, her chest tight, her breathing short as if she was wearing thousands of pounds of armor. 

“Seraphina – ”

“Gods, I fell in love with you,” she sobbed, her entire body shaking. “Whatever this was is over.”

“I – yes, alright. I can understand,” Astarion replied, deflating instantly, his red eyes glistening. “Perhaps that’s for the best for both of us. If you want me to leave camp – ”

“No,” she said quickly. “I…I’m sorry. I…I have to go,” she choked out. Seraphina ran from Astarion’s tent as if she was fleeing a fire.

Why am I apologizing? What do I even have to apologize for?

As she made a beeline towards her own tent, Wyll stood over Gale’s shoulder, offering his lanceboard advice.

“Seraphina, glad that you could return to our – ” Gale’s smile dropped when he saw Seraphina’s face up close. “Are you alright?”

“We need to get some rest. We have a long walk to get to the mausoleum,” she said shortly, zooming past the two men to dive into her tent. As soon as she entered, it was as if the gate flew open. Her tears flowed and her cries racked her body. She blubbered through a scroll of silence before curling into a ball, her knees tucked to her chest. She sobbed and screamed until her head ached and her throat was raw. She was almost glad that Astarion didn’t fight her on her decision. If he had, her resolve might’ve disintegrated to ash. 

Seraphina couldn’t deny that she wanted a real relationship with Astarion. She thought all those sweet moments like that first night in the forest, their late-night conversations, the first time he kissed her – she thought all of it was building towards something beautiful. But now, looking at the beginning, it all felt…tainted.

But what if she went back and told him everything that her heart had yearned to say for weeks? What if she said ‘yes’ to a real relationship with him? Astarion had spent two hundred horrible years not knowing what it felt like to be loved. She wanted to give that to him and experience the true, genuine Astarion. Seraphina’s stomach flipped. She didn’t know if she would ever forget how Astarion had deceived her for so long. 

And then one thought snuck in unbidden: Gale would never do this to me. He had made his feelings clear at that party after they defended the Grove. He was honest…at least she thought he was. She had also thought Astarion was being honest like the fool that she was. 

She cried until her face and eyes stung and she felt weak. Hours later, she crawled out of her tent and looked around the camp, silent and dark. Without thinking, her feet carried her to the purple tent that had flickers of candlelight peeking out between the flaps.

“Gale?” she whispered with a frail voice.

“Come in!”

She stepped inside, carefully dodging a pile of books that had fallen over into the entrance. Gale lounged against a pile of pillows, a brown, well-used book in his hand. His welcoming gaze made her want to throw herself at him so he could hold her all night.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your reading,” the tiefling whispered, her tail twitching as it tried to wrap around her leg.

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize. You are far more interesting than the journals of this Balthazar fellow,” Gale said.

Seraphina quirked an eyebrow,

“I doubt that,” she smirked, trying to let her mood shift. “I’m curious myself what he’s been up to.”

“I would’ve asked you to join, but it seemed like you needed to be alone,” he replied.

Gale examined her face, his narrowed eyes very briefly darting down to the puffy bite marks on her neck, and his nostrils flared as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Did Astarion hurt you?” he asked. 

Seraphina sighed, her breath shaking. 

“It’s complicated,” she responded. “Yes, but it’s nothing that can’t be remedied.”

Gale frowned, but he gave her a sad, knowing look.

“It is quite upsetting to witness someone break a heart like yours,” he murmured.

Seraphina thought of Mystra.

“I feel the same way about you,” she said, crawling further into the tent to sit next to him. “And then for that same person to demand something horrific of you…it is a shame indeed.”

“Let’s not discuss that for now. How about we start from the beginning?” Gale flipped to the start of the journal.

Seraphina sighed. She leaned her head against Gale’s shoulder, and she let his rumbling voice, vibrating from his chest and through her own body, lull her into tranquility. In the back of her mind, she thought of the assassin who was waiting at the docks. Even considering the offer that his goddess extended was blasphemy. Serving Beshaba would be an upheaval of everything that she had been taught and believed in her entire life. And yet the safety of being able to direct misfortune upon her enemies, and away from herself and the people she loved, called to her.

[palmviolet]

for the ask game: 11, 13, 18, 22. lol sorry this is many but i want to know!

ooh don't apologise i love these (despite how long it took me to answer this... sorry about that)

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

interesting question. the thing is with fanfic that i actually don't really edit... quick proofread, maybe a sentence or two added but rarely deleted, and any corrections from my lovely beta @shdwsilk, but i don't tend to murder my darlings alas. original fiction is an entirely different matter. editing process is ruthless, but each time i begin a new draft it's a whole new document (even if just duplicated) so i always have my darlings safe in a prior version. and yes, i grieve. such good stuff relegated to the graveyard

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

in terms of what's difficult, i've honestly always found it hard to write about things close to my own life, even the most mundane things like going to tesco, getting on the tube. i guess its authenticity reads as somehow uncanny to me, feels performative and too false. that goes for people in my life as well — i try not to consciously base characters on people i know, but if i do find myself doing it, i immediately feel like the writing is somehow cheap and pretentious and otherwise just not very good. which is very much the opposite of 'write what you know.'

and then the flipside, it comes very naturally to me to write about america and american culture, despite not being american in the slightest. i just seem to like my own writing more when it's further away from my own experience, even if the feelings in the work are my own. but i think this is probably a mental block more than anything else.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

this is the reason it took me so long to answer lol there's too many to choose from. i was tempted to go for one of my PB fics, since that's the interest we have in common, but my TD stuff is much fresher in my head, so here:

Rust doesn’t dignify that with a response. He lights another cigarette — number eleven out of twenty, all smoked in the vicinity of the last hour and a half — and taps out laboriously a reply to Laurie’s text. Cowboy hats. Number keys as letters: what he actually writes, in the physical sense, is 222666922666999 44287777. There’s no function for a question mark. Everything delivered assertive, strident, grammarless, a speech-act. A fact already in motion. And her immediate response: 733777333332228 627778999 222266 4338 844336. Or, perfect marty can get them.

this is from chapter four of out of time man. it's set in 2000, and i knew there'd have to be a text conversation at some point, which got me thinking about the mechanics of texting back in the day and how annoying it was, and how that disconnect between action of typing and sense that comes out (signifier and signified...) maps onto rust's larger deal about body vs. self ('sentient meat'), which is specifically relevant to his relationship with laurie, in which he's very much just going through the motions because he believes that's all he needs to do to maintain the semblance of a healthy life.

and this is mirrored in the text here: 'a fact already in motion.' his belief in the inevitability of his biology translates into the primacy of the physical act of typing, which supercedes its sense or personal, grammatical inflection.

there's also a level of irony here that i couldn't help but imbue, reflecting the series' own wry humour: rust here is being predictably existential and dramatic about the notion of wearing cowboy hats to a costume party. which in itself goes to the heart of what i'm doing with this fic, which is exploring the notion of masculinity as a performance through the arena it's made most explicit — gay rodeo. to dress up as a cowboy invokes america's frontier colonial past, invokes rural masculinity and the violence of the movie gunslinger (himself related to the detective archetype), the death drive as represented by the rodeo — and all of that a costume, a performance of something hollow at the heart of american culture. to transmit this through the code of a phone keyboard only heightens its camp ridiculousness.

anyway. all this to say i'm having a lot of fun with this one. this paragraph did require me a) double checking how many cigarettes are in a pack of camel blues and b) looking up the old phone keyboards to make the numbers accurate. but my favourite paragraphs are the ones that take half an hour of thought and research ahaha

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

....not very lol. all the writing proper is on google docs, original fiction on one account and fic on another, and i tend to do all my planning just... in the bottom of the same document? which gets annoying and means i don't know what the actual word count is but. idk. i also jot ideas in my notes app if i'm on the move. as for actual research, i keep my notes in word. for some reason. why do i do this. idk.

i've also become extra disorganised with TD because i don't even keep each fic in separate documents anymore, mainly because each of them has begun with a scattered snippet and slowly grown legs over time, while i'm working on about five different ones at once. hence it's impossible to find anything. again, why. who knows.

thank you so much for the asks! i had a lot of fun answering these, sorry it took me so long lol

[jeonsjiddies]

Toxic | kth [m]

Toxic Masterlist | Chapter Ten

Eleven

7 months into your relationship with Taehyung, and you were still obsessed with him. The feeling definitely seemed to be mutual. You both wanted to spend every waking moment together, and whether it be hot fiery touches or gentle loving caresses, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

Taehyung had become a little more daring at work and people were starting to become suspicious. Just last week, he’d pulled you into the supply closet after a meeting and ate you out until you were begging him to fuck you. Just as he was about to unbuckle his slacks, you heard the door handle jiggle, then the clattering of keys. You both quickly put yourselves together and sprang apart like magnets with the same poles.

The janitor had not looked pleased to find the two of you in the locked closet, but you’d both feigned ignorance at why the door was locked. You’d both had to become more careful, spending less time together alone and forcing yourselves to act far more professionally than you wanted to.

Since you’d had to quit your midday rendezvous, you’d both become increasingly needy once you got off work, to the point where you spent more time at his apartment than your own. You kept several spare outfits at his place and ended up sleeping in his arms more often than you didn’t.

Today was no exception. Taehyung hated staying away from you, hated having to drive to work separately, hated when you got stuck in traffic and took longer to arrive than he did. You find him waiting for you when you pull into the parking space, your door being flung open the moment you’re able to put your car in park. You giggle and step out of the vehicle, aided by Taehyung’s tug at your hand, causing you to go flying into his chest. He steadies you and immediately connects your lips together, his hands gripping your sides hungrily.

“Mmmf-Tae… Tae, baby we’re outside!”

“So?” He murmurs against the skin of your neck, pressing his hips into yours to cage you between him and your car door.

“People could see us,” you explain, your voice airing on a whine as he sucks a hickey into your skin.

“Better give them a nice show, then.”

“Taehyung!”

“Fine, fine,” he concedes, pulling away from you for a brief moment before grabbing your hand and tugging you inside the building.

He leads you to the elevator and wraps his arms around you from behind, placing lingering kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder while you ride the lift up to his floor.

“I can’t wait to be inside you, Princess. That pretty pussy is all I’ve been able to think about all day. Wanna make you scream for me, make up for lost time…” he trails off, his fingers skating across your covered nipples and making you shiver.

“Fuck, Tae… you’re insatiable.”

“Only for you, baby girl,” he smirks, pulling you down the hall the second the elevator doors open.

He unlocks the apartment and ushers you inside, his lips never leaving yours once the door is shut. He walks you backwards towards his room, skillfully shedding his dress shirt in the process and tossing it aside carelessly. Your hands immediately find purchase on his golden skin, marveling at how tanned and gorgeous he is for probably the millionth time. Despite being together for almost a year and having seen him naked more times than you can count on all your fingers and toes, you’re still mesmerized by his beauty and caught off guard at how gorgeous he is every time you lay your eyes on him.

He swiftly undresses your top half, lips attaching to your peaked nipple before you can even suck in a shaky breath. A soft moan escapes your lips and you feel Taehyung smirk against your skin as his tongue circles the bud and his teeth gently graze it.

“Wanna try something new, baby. What do you think?”

He looks up at you, his fingers now pinching and kneading at your breast. You nod, willing to try anything if he keeps making you feel this good.

“Want you to ride me,” he murmurs between heated kisses to your neck and lips, “want you to watch…”

“Watch?”

Taehyung smiles, pulling you to your feet and turning your body around so your back is flush against his chest. He directs your gaze to the full length mirror on the wall that was definitely not there a few days ago. You look at your reflections in the mirror, both of you flushed and glowing. Taehyung’s hands move from your shoulders, slowly trailing down your arms and landing on your hips. You watch his movements in the mirror, captivated by the image in front of you. His fingers dance along the hem of your skirt before he pulls it and your panties down in one swift motion.

You feel exposed and shy, not used to seeing yourself in this type of situation. Taehyung looms over you from behind, kissing along your neck and shoulder before pulling back to undress himself the rest of the way. You feel his thick member pressing into the meat of your ass and shiver.

“Look how beautiful you are,” he coos, his hands trailing up and down your body gently, “can’t wait for you to see how fucking gorgeous you are when you’re cumming on my cock.”

You groan, leaning your head back against his chest and Taehyung leans down to connect your lips before walking you both backwards. He sits on the bed and spreads his legs, inviting you into his lap. You find your position in his lap, your dripping cunt sliding along his erect length. He helps you line his cock up with your sopping hole and you allow yourself to sink down on his cock. He leans back, resting on his elbows to give you a better view of your pussy swallowing his cock in the mirror. You’re completely mesmerized by the way his large member disappears inside of you, filling you up so completely.

You almost close your eyes to savor the feeling of his cock sliding along your walls, but you also want to watch his expressions, so you force yourself to keep your eyes open as you begin bouncing on his cock. Taehyung groans from behind you and your gaze flickers to his own in the mirror. He’s watching you with the most carnal look you’ve ever seen on him, like a lion about to pounce on their prey. You shiver but keep your rythym steady.

“Look at that beautiful pussy swallowing up Daddy’s cock so well, you were made for me, pretty girl,” he purrs, leaning up and kissing along the shell of your ear, his hands coming to knead at your breasts that bounce with the impact of your movements.

Without warning, Taehyung takes over, drilling up into your pussy from beneath you at a punishing pace, making your body bounce with the force of his thrusts. Your moans grow louder and Taehyung wraps an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Watch me ruin you, baby.”

Your eyes wander to where the two of you connect, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, your combined arousals making it shimmer in the light. Combined with the erotic imagery and the way Taehyung is assaulting your pussy, you can’t hold out much longer.

“Baby, I’m close-“

“You gonna cum? Gonna cream on Daddy’s big, thick cock? Do it, cum for me.”

You scream as your orgasm washes over you, watching in the mirror as your pussy gushes all over Taehyung’s cock and his hand comes up to grip your neck, restricting your airflow, which somehow intensifies your orgasm tenfold. Your entire body shakes like a leaf with the intensity of your high, and Taehyung follows soon after, shooting his load deep inside your heat while chanting your name between his deep moans. When he finishes and releases his hold on you, your body slumps, completely spent from the force of your orgasm.

“Look, baby,” he says gently, guiding your head so you can watch his cum drip out of you when he pulls his cock from your aching hole.

You shiver at the sight, equal parts exhausted and turned on. Taehyung litters sweet kisses along your back, kneading and massaging your muscles as he goes.

“Let’s get you a warm bath, yeah?”

You nod, clinging to him as he lifts you and carries you to the bathroom, gently setting you on the counter before running the water and adding the bubbles. He helps you into the tub and slides in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head.

He takes a washcloth and delicately runs the soap along your arms and shoulders, your torso and chest. You lean into his embrace and allow your eyes to close while you savor the feeling of being cared for by the man of your dreams.

You don’t remember falling asleep, don’t remember him helping you into his clothes or tucking you into bed. You only remember the gentle kiss he placed on your lips before he pulled the covers over you both and fell asleep beside you.

Taglist: @telepathytae @sugaflake @ana-rose1 @missxmarisa @azula-karai-27 @turnthepageandbeburnt @appachicken @whipwhoops @bangsterz @calyumlukesgood @m00li55a @chanbitt <3

[seeingivy]

the time of your life

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: character death (LOL), very immature fifteen year old humor (that was cross confirmed with real fifteen year olds), idk reader and eren being mad corny

an: tried my best to make this chapter fun but I will just POST WHAT I HAVE BUT THE NEXT ONE IS ONE OF MY FAVS IM SO EXCITED

previous part linked here

--

Things settle down after the panel, and Eren convinces you to put all your energy into finishing the season. Because you’re going to prove them wrong and now you just have to do it. And as much effort as you put in, the rest of them all make it fun too. 

And Eren’s right. 

They really are great - funny, charismatic, and idiotic in their own ways. 

The inside jokes start one week after filming when you’ve finally learned everyone’s names. And, of course, it starts with Reiner. You and Historia are so tired after filming that you quickly run back to the townhouse just to get snacks from the main kitchen. With the mention of food, Sasha’s following, and then Connie, suddenly, everyone’s marching back together. 

Except when you get there, Reiner is in the kitchen. Not only is he shirtless, but he’s also doing some next-level opera singing. For some reason, he’s trying to sing both parts of the Phantom of the Opera and… actually succeeding?

Connie leans over, whispering. 

“Look at those mommy milkers.” 

You all burst out laughing, which stops Reiner in his tracks. And he momentarily stops and scratches his head before he keeps singing, this time serenading all of you. He’s taking Ymir by the hand and swinging her around and holding hands with Jean as they rock back and forth that even Mikasa’s snorting at the sight of him. You're all sold after that. 

Speaking of Mikasa, as solemn and quiet as she can be, she’s gotten you into quite a bit of trouble. Trouble meaning severe back pain. When she first moved into your room, she mentioned that she was a bit of an early riser. She likes to work out to get her blood moving before shooting, claiming that “it gets her in the zone.” 

Somehow, she convinces you and Sasha to join her one morning, and by the end of it, Jean and Marco are dragging you both back to the house by your legs, having to shove the two of you in an ice bath. 

You just didn’t realize that an early riser meant four in the morning, and working out means an all-intensive full-body press. Levi’s pissed at you and Sasha for being stupid enough to think you could keep up and you’re both mad at Levi for having such little faith in you. 

In true dad fashion, Levi’s always lecturing you guys. More like pretending to be mad, berating you around the set. But you know that he cares because the second that you guys ask him for something, no matter how stupid it is, he’ll be the first to give in. 

Exhibit A? Marco and Jean recently find out that Levi became a triple threat from doing his own stunts on Bond - including a quadruple flip. They’re both so intrigued by it that every time they see Levi, they force him to do it. 

“Levi.” 

“No, Marco. I’m not going to do a flip.” 

“Do a flip! Levi, please please please please please do a flip. It’s just so fucking cool.” 

“Watch your language, Jean. You need to wash your mouth out with soap.” 

“I won’t say fuck for a week if you flip, Levi. Please!” Jean says, shaking Levi’s hands as he talks. 

Levi begrudgingly rolls his eyes and then backflips in the living room, earning half hearted cheers. It was cool the first eleven times, but Jean literally asks him to do it daily. It gets old fast. 

“That was so fucking cool, Levi! Thanks.” Jean says, running off. He bumps into Sasha, who's clearly going to throw up as she runs past. 

Levi’s sick and tired of Jean. And Hange too. And himself for thinking that filming with a bunch of teenagers was going to be a good idea. 

After finding out that Sasha will quite literally eat anything you put in front of her, Hange’s started a dangerously horrible game of seeing what Sasha will eat without paying attention to it.

Ketchup on watermelon, ice cream with salt in it, cake with mayo. It’s become so disgusting that you can’t tell who people are more grossed out with - Hange for making the concoction or Sasha for eating it. (It’s Sasha) 

Armin’s taken maybe twenty before and after pictures of Sasha during these “experiments” that Hange runs and then sticks them onto the kitchen wall - perfectly labeled with the food Sasha ate underneath them. 

And he loves taking pictures so much that there’s now a big wall at the front of the set of just individual and group pictures, Armin’s little pictures and commentary tacked to the wall. 

One of Jean and Sasha playing video games, labeled “the great war” 

Another one of Ymir and Bertholdt tackling each other, labeled “ice cream gate” 

And one of Eren pinching your cheek, labeled “the l/n-jaegers” 

Right. In another life, you’re all convinced that Connie was destined to work for the paparazzi. Because every time you and Eren are together, he somehow manages to capture a picture at the worst time - making something innocent look like totally not.

Like when you and Eren share a blanket on set because there’s only one left. Or when he helps you put the harnesses on and his hands are around your waist for two seconds . When you guys share the breakfast burritos on set because they’re too big to eat alone. With context, they’re not that bad. 

But Connie always catches it at the worst time and then posts it to his fucking TikTok account. His stupid series has garnered millions of views, and you’ve both tried to convince him to stop, to which he refuses

And when you tried to get Erwin involved, he only supported Connie more - stating it was good press for the show. He’s named the series “the l/n-jaegers” hence the label on the polaroid.  

There’s currently 32 different parts. 

But you know you can’t stop him even if you tried because Connie proves to be the most menacing idiot on set. Him and Annie have developed a horrible habit of pranking everyone on around - Levi, Hange, and Erwin specifically. It’s not that Annie loves pranks, she’s just the only one who can keep a straight face. 

“Hey Hange.” 

“What’s up, Annie?” 

“There’s this guy who works in hair and makeup. He has a few ideas for the Female Titan costume design. He wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh. What’s his name?” 

“Ben Dover.” responds Connie, the look on his and Annie’s faces blank. 

“Ben Dover?” Hange repeats the rest of you, trying you shoving your faces into the script to stop laughing as they respond. 

“Yeah. They said they’ve talked to Erwin before. He’s been working with Hugh Jass, on the makeup team.” says Annie. 

Erwin walks over, the look on his face confused. And it just gets worse. 

“Who is Hugh Jass? I’ve never seen him before.” 

“Oh, he’s hard to miss. Really big guy,” responds Connie, his face breaking a little. 

Levi walks over, and when Annie talks again, it’s the final nail in the coffin. You and Eren are literally smacking your hands over each other's mouths, the tears spilling out of your eyes to not give them away. 

“Okay, we’ll go over there now. Thanks for telling us Annie, Connie.” 

“Cool! They’re waiting with Ben Overbich.” 

“What?” 

“Ben Overbich. It’s Swedish, sir.” Annie responds. 

Levi shrugs as he, Hange, and Erwin walk off to go to talk to the costume designers. And when they all walk away, you’re all panting on the floor, gasping for breath. Connie keeps mimicking Erwin, saying Hugh Jass, and Berholdt keeps quoting it’s Swedish sir, which doesn’t make it any better. 

When they return, Levi and Erwin are all yanking you by the ears onto the set since the costume team told them what the jokes actually meant. And there’s something so presidential about Erwin naturally that when he starts lecturing you, it starts feeling like he’s giving a sermon. 

“You guys are premier faces in the industry. Imagine how people would feel if they found out you were making crude jokes like you were fifteen years old.” 

“Sir.” 

“Yes, Ymir.” 

“We are fifteen years old.” 

You’re all snickering as Erwin continues, Hange rolling their eyes as he goes on. 

“You should know better. Ben Dover is not a funny joke. Huge asses are nothing to laugh about. You should wish to have that type of issue.” 

Jean leans over, whispering in yours and Eren’s ear. 

“The divine truths of humanity.” 

You laugh and Erwin stares you down, Eren smacking you for laughing out loud. 

“Y/N. Up.” 

You groan as stand next to him, the lot of them laughing at you, as Erwin stares you down. 

“Erwin.” 

“Y/N. What did you learn in class yesterday?” 

“Uh. States and capitals?” 

“Perfect. Name them all.” 

You groan. Of course, you get stuck with Erwin and his weird punishments. He always quizzes you guys on random stuff from your classes when you take too long on set or are late to a table read. And you’re usually free from that, but Jean’s stupid comment got you. 

“Uh. Okay. California is Los Angeles.” 

“Wrong. It’s Sacramento.” 

“I’m Canadian, Erwin. This isn’t even fair.”  

He shakes his head dismissively as you keep going, literally getting every single one wrong. And when you reach the fifth incorrect state, Eren takes his stand, helping you with the rest of them. 

“Eren. No one asked you if you knew the states and capitals.” Erwin says, pinching both of your ears as they all laugh.

“Can’t leave my girl hanging here.” 

“Your girl?” repeats Connie and the rest of them widen their eyes, leaving you and Eren to be met with a bunch of “oohs” and “aahs”

Which only flusters Eren even more. And makes your cheeks burn.

“That’s-that’s not what I meant! It’s because we’re co-stars! Like the leads, that’s why she’s my girl! Not any weird reason.” Eren stammers, the tips of his ears pink and his eyes not meeting yours. 

No one believes him. 

-

“Eren.” 

“Hm.” 

“Hot sauce.” 

He leans over in the chair, opening the packet of hot sauce and handing it to you. The crew got breakfast burritos again , meaning you and Eren were slouched up in your chairs eating. The scene that was being filmed was primarily a scene for Jean and Marco, but you and Eren always love to watch everyone else act. 

There’s something about the energy on set - Levi directing everyone around, everyone getting in the zone that gets you excited. All jittery and nervous and thrilled that people are going to see this amazing thing that is airing in a few weeks. 

You hand Eren the burrito and he instinctively reaches forward, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. His green eyes focused on your lips and you can feel your heart rising into your throat. 

“Eren.” 

He looks up, right into your eyes. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Oh, my bad. You had some sauce on your lip.” 

And then he takes the excess sauce and licks it off his finger. 

“Did you just-” 

“Y/N, be quiet. They’re starting.” 

You try your best to focus on the scene but all you can think about is yours and Eren’s knees bumping against each other, your fingers brushing across as you share the food, and Eren licking the sauce off of his finger. You try to brush it off as you lean over and whisper into his space.

“What scene is this, Eren?” 

“Don’t remember. I was so busy trying to check my own lines I forgot to read ahead.” 

You nod as Eren scoots closer, the two of you leaning forward as you start paying attention to the scene. Jeans walks closer and that’s when you realize it - Marco leaning against the wall, all charred and slumped over. 

“Hey. Are you…. Marco?” Jean whispers, his voice shaking. 

Eren instinctively reaches for your hand, crushing it in his hold. You look over to find Sasha and Bertholdt giving you the same confused looks as you all keep watching, Jean acting on. It seems like no one read the scene before watching it. 

Jean’s a good actor. Such a good actor that you think he’s actually crying, that his voice is actually wavering. And that’s when you realize it. 

Marco just died. 

Your mind is running at a million miles per hour. Does that mean he’s leaving? He’s not going to be in the show anymore? You guys were all supposed to spend four or five years together filming together, but how is that fair if he’s already dead? That isn’t even an entire season-

Eren’s squeezing your hand into oblivion as the tears are falling out of his eyes, his face looking all types of broken as you glance over. 

“Member of the 104th Cadet Corps and Captain of Squad 19… Marco Bodt.”  

The director calls cut and the crew starts moving around, Jean helping Marco up from the ground as he brushes the tears out of his eyes. And when you catch sight of Erwin, you’re blazing fire angry. And it seems like you’re not the only one, because Ymir and Mikasa are following your suit. 

“Erwin. What the hell?” you say. 

Erwin and Levi look down at the three of you, confused. 

“You can’t just kill Marco! That’s not fair, the show hasn’t even started yet and you already killed him off.” Reiner says, crossing his arms. 

“Erwin. Cut it out of the show. You can’t do this.” Mikasa responds, glaring at him. 

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose as he bends down, Erwin joining him so you’re all level heights. For some reason, angry tears are building in your eyes and your chest is burning, because…you miss Marco. And he’s not even gone yet. And it’s not fair that he died so soon and his character is all but sweet, so why does he have to die and-

Levi places his hands on yours and Reiner’s shoulders as he talks, his voice soft. 

“Are you guys upset that he’s going to be leaving?” 

You all nod, the tears finally flowing out of your eyes and streaming down. You can see that Reiner’s crying too, Mikasa swallowing her own tears. 

“Yeah. Erwin, Levi he’s our friend. And I’ve never really had friends like this and I don’t want him to go away and-” you choke out, stammering on your words. 

Levi squeezes your shoulder as you hiccup and Erwin leans forward to press all three of you in a hug. Levi’s hands are in your hair, whispering something under his breath about how you’re all sweet kids. 

They both let you go and you look over to find Marco, still in his death makeup, hugging Eren, who has tears streaming down his eyes too. And when you walk over, Marco opens up his other arm, you and Eren and Jean and almost everyone crushing him into a hug, the discomfort sitting in your chest. 

As you all trail back to the townhouse after set, quiet for once, you’re all milling around the main room, aimlessly. You and Armin are playing a very underwhelming game of Uno, Reiner and Marco half-assedly playing Mario Kart, and Mikasa’s teaching Ymir how to braid her hair. 

Hange walks in and plops down between you and Armin, the polaroid camera in her hand. 

“Hey, you guys.” 

“Hi Hange.” you both mutter, flipping the cards down. 

“Got an idea. You know, this shows kind of… dramatic . A lot more of the characters are going to die, but it doesn’t have to be a sad thing.” 

“It is sad. That means Marco’s leaving and we won’t see him anymore.” you say, boring your eyes into Hange’s. 

They lean forward to pinch your cheek, softly laughing as they continue talking. 

“You’re so sweet. He’ll be back to film other scenes, yeah? And you’ll definitely see him again.” 

You both nod, agreeing with Hange. They hand the camera to Armin, whispering the plan in his ears and then duck out of the hallway. And when you and Armin have everything you need - the industrial box of Rocky Road ice cream and the camera - you head to the center of the room, Armin standing on the couch to get everyone’s attention. 

“When you fall off, I’m going to fucking laugh at you, Arlert.” says Ymir, looking up from braiding Sasha’s hair. 

“Shut up, Ymir. Listen, we should make a deal. Every time a character dies, we all eat ice cream. Play games, stay up late, and then at the end of the night we’ll add their picture to the wall. So we don’t forget them . Like, one last hurrah or whatever. ” Armin says. 

“You sound like Hange.” Annie mutters, flicking Reiner in the forehead. 

“It was their idea. But we should. If Marco’s leaving in a few days, I want to spend all the time I can with him, having fun and-” 

“Yeah. I want to.” says Marco, which has almost all of you agreeing.

You and Armin start by opening the tub of ice cream, all eleven of you refusing to get bowls and instead leaning over, bumping heads as you eat. 

“Eren. Move your big head.” 

“Shut the fuck up Connie. Your bald head is bigger than mine.” 

You all start snickering as the two of them argue, smacking each other and rolling off the couch. And when Marco suggests that you play truth or dare, you all start nervously giggling as you go around the circle, all jittery from the sugar in the ice cream.

Reiner asks Connie to share the last dream that he had, which he begrudgingly shares is that he kissed Ymir. Ymir is thoroughly disgusted. Historia gets dared to call Erwin dad by accident, which just leads to Erwin giving Historia a lecture about how he appreciates that she can see him as a father figure and that he is already very proud of all of the work Historia has put in. 

Bertholdt has to eat a spoonful of mayo, which he consequently throws up and Armin gets dared to steal something from the set. He takes Levi’s coffee cup and hides it in the storage room, which he is sure to get an earful for later. 

“Eren. Truth or Dare?” Connie asks. 

“Dare.” 

“Kiss your favorite person in the room on the cheek.” 

They all start giggling as they stare you down, your cheeks burning at the thought of Eren pressing his lips to yours. Connie and Bertholdt are making kissy faces at you, Ymir and Annie leaning over to pinch your cheeks. 

And you brace yourself, for when Eren’s going to press his lips into your skin. Except he doesn’t.  He leans over and kisses Armin on the cheek and you try your best to hide your…disappointment? Sadness? But that’s on you. 

Why would you assume you’re Eren’s favorite person on set? 

Everyone boos at Eren for picking a copout answer and you pretend not to be offended as you keep playing the game. And on hour two of playing, Levi comes and yells at you all to shut the fuck up and go to bed , which leads to Armin taking the picture of Marco - all cheesing and smiley and tacking it to the wall. Connie takes a sharpie and labels the wall “fly high angel” to mark the occasion. 

Except his dumbass writes angle instead of angel. 

You all shuffle back to your rooms, giggling and laughing, and you and Eren giving each other a smile as you switch into your respective rooms. 

- 

You hear a knock on your door and instantly jump up, ready to duck out of set to go get slushies with Eren. Except when you swing the door open, Jean’s standing at your store instead of Eren. 

“Oh. Hi Jean.” 

“Hi…is-” 

“She’s in the shower. You’re welcome to wait for her here if you’d like?” 

You swing the door open and he flops onto Mikasa’s bed, watching your fan spin around on the ceiling. 

You’re not sure what it is or why Jean and Mikasa are assuaged from the barrage of teasing and cooing that you and Eren get whenever you’re around each other, because you’re almost a thousand percent sure that the two of them are worse than you and Eren. 

Because they actually like each other. You’ve often come home from filming or playing games with Bertholdt and Historia to find the two of them sitting on the floor, holding hands while watching a movie. Or Jean giving Mikasa bracelets or telling her that he thinks she’s really pretty. 

Maybe they’re not paying attention and that the only person who knows is you. Or maybe it’s because they don’t turn red or deny their feelings, because they actually like each other. You and Eren aren’t like that, because in earnest, you two really are just friends. 

“You okay? Your room must be pretty empty.” 

Marco moved out earlier today. Not a single dry eye in the room. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I came. Sometimes it just feels kind of lonely, but I think Levi and Erwin might move someone in with me or put me with Connie or something.” 

“That’s nice. It’ll be fun to have a roommate.” 

He nods, cracking his fingers as the shower runs behind the two of you. 

“Hey Jean.” 

“Hm.” 

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot.”

You sit up, hopping off your desk chair and onto the bed where Jean was sitting. He’s leaned back against Mikasa’s perfectly propped pillows, lazily swinging the charm of his necklace back and forth on the chain. 

“How do you know you like Mikasa?” 

He looks up from his chain, giving you an inquisitive look, before answering. 

“Dunno. I like being around her. Like, whenever I’m in a room, the person I want to be next to is her. Or the first person I tell good news to and I want her to know like…random things about me. My moms name, my first pet, how I hate my first grade teacher. I just like to share things with her. Like how it feels when I'm with her you know - like...like that's Mikasa. She's my girlfriend."  

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.” 

He nods, plopping back down on her pillows and twisting the chain in his hands again. 

You halfheartedly nod as Mikasa rolls out of the bathroom, giving you two smiles as she takes the seat next to Jean. You give the two of them a smile as you pad out of the room and straight into Eren and Armin’s across. 

“Hi. Mind if I sit? Jean and Mika are-” 

“Sure.” Eren says, scooting over on his bed and patting on the sheets. 

“Where’s Min?” 

“Ah. With Erwin. I think he’s taking the Marco thing kind of hard.” 

You nod, shuffling on the bed as Eren shuts his laptop, leaning back onto the headboard. 

“Are you okay, Eren? With him being gone?” 

“Feels weird. It kind of just makes me nervous for who else will leave us, you know?” 

Us. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren tangles his hand with yours at your side, taking turns cracking each of the knuckles on your fingers. 

“Do you ever wonder why they tease us so much? For being friends?” 

He angles his head over, the wisps of his brown hair tickling on your forehead.

“Like. Mikasa and Jean really like each other. They’re always holding hands in my room and-”

“What? They like each other?” 

“I think so. I don’t know, they’ve never really hid it from me.” 

“Well, you’re sweet. You’d never make fun of them for that. I had no idea that they liked each other. They’re probably just not outward with it in front of everyone else.” 

“And we aren’t outward with anything. I don’t know, we just act normal and they’re always like saying this stuff about how you and I-” 

“Y/N.” 

You stop talking as he squeezes your hand three times, almost like a little knock signaling you to stop talking. 

“I think they just… don’t get us. You and I are special. I just feel like I’ve known you forever and that we really fit together and I think they can sense that or something. And they think it’s romantic even if it’s not, you know?” 

“Yeah.” 

He squeezes your hand three more times, the words knocking through your head. Special. Fit together. Not romantic. He leans over, green eyes staring into yours. 

“You and me. Always?” 

You nod, swallowing hard as you lean back. 

“Plus. They can’t kill us off. We’re the main characters.” 

- 

You shuffle in your seat as the director yells action, as you look down at Eren, tied up against the post in the middle of the set. You’re filming the scene where Levi is supposed to just kick Eren’s ass in the middle of the court, to prove to the other characters that they can control him and his titan powers. 

Except you’re on your fifth take of this scene, Eren getting increasingly frustrated because Levi’s been yelling at him all morning, claiming that he isn’t acting good enough for the scene. Levi’s a bit of a perfectionist, meaning he won’t let anyone leave until the scene is perfect the way he wants it. 

Eren especially. You could always tell that Levi was always more fond of Eren than everyone else, but you never thought that would mean Levi would be extra harsh on him. Which is clearly just pissing Eren off today. 

“Maybe we should dissect her just in case!”

“Wait. Maybe I am a monster, but she has nothing to do with that! Nothing at all!” Eren screams, his voice straining and his eyes pinching shut as he wrestles against the handcuffs. 

“As if we could believe you!” 

“It’s a fact!” 

“You’re defending her? She must be one of you!” 

“No!” 

Levi stomps into the middle of the set, leaning down and getting level with Eren. And then he starts yelling at him. 

“Eren. You can do so much better than that. You have to give it your all or this isn’t going to work.” 

“I am giving it my all. You’ve had me working for five hours now and I-”

“So? You have to get used to that type of time commitment if you want to be the best like you said you did and-” 

Eren and Levi keep going back and forth, Hange signaling at you from the back of the set as you both arise from your chairs, leaning down to meet them. 

“Levi. Go easy on him, we’ve been-” Hange starts, 

“No. He can do better than this and I know he can. He just doesn’t want to. If he would just put in a little effort, it would be better.” 

“Levi, maybe you’re being too harsh on him-” you start. 

Levi rolls his eyes as he stands up, calling for a break as you unhook Eren from the post. The second you unlock him, he storms off straight off of the set. 

“Hange.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you take a longer break from us? I’ll talk to him.” 

“I’ll talk to Levi. He just…he knows Eren can be really good. That he has potential. He’s just trying to get him there faster because he wants Eren to do well.” 

“I know, Hange.” 

You shoot them a smile as you run into the storage closet, yanking out the tandem bike and heading to find Eren. 

- 

You kick the rocks in front of you as you hand Eren the slushie, anxiously looking over at him. He’s still radiating anger, from the way his shoulders are tense and how his knuckles are nearly white against the cup. The two of you biked in silence and even the cashier could tell Eren was having some type of fit today. 

“Eren.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He sighs as he leans into your touch, resting his head against your shoulder. 

“I just-I’m trying really hard to get it. And Levi’s always just so hard on me, I can’t even tell if I’m doing a good job or if I can do this or-” 

You reach down, crushing his hand in your hold, as you respond. 

“Eren. You’re doing a really great job. Even Levi thinks that. He just… he knows you’re great and he’s trying to tap into that.” 

“I know, it just makes me wonder sometimes if I’m cut out for this. Or that Best Actor savant that I-” 

“Eren. You’re going to get it. I know that for a fact. It might not be this season or the next, but you will get it. You’re- you’re literally amazing, I just know you’ll be one of the best of our generation and-” 

“You’re just saying that because-” 

“I’m not! I really do think that, I- I’d even bet on it for you. You’re the best person for this role and you’re perfect for it and in general too and I just think you should be more confid-”

“Y/N, I-”

“Like really, I think you have the chops to be great. I can’t even believe I have to be your costar because I am infinitely mediocre next to you when you’re just so amazing and already have so many credits and-” 

You’re cut off by Eren’s lips on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. You reach up to the skin as you look over at him, positively bug eyed. 

“You-why would y-” 

“The other day. You are my favorite person on set. I just didn’t want them to make fun of us for it.” 

“Oh. Right, I-” 

“Finish the slushie. We’ll go back after.” 

When you return, Eren finishes the scene in one take. And gets Levi’s golden stamp of approval. 

- 

When you and Eren film the last scene of the season, on your last day of shooting for a few months, you can’t help but feel a despair in your chest. Everyone else was already long gone, having given your wistful goodbyes and promises of keeping in touch until you come back to (hopefully) film the second season. 

Which leaves you, Eren, Erwin, Levi, Hange, and the crew to film the last scene. The backstory of how you and Eren came to be, where he wraps the scarf around your neck. 

While you love having everyone else around, it was nice to have a few days of just you and Eren, where you can soak in his company before you have to be apart for a few days. You make ramen together in the mornings, he teaches you how to play video games, and you talk about almost anything and everything in those three days.   

And when you go to film the scene, the despair of being apart from him…from your best friend really settles in. You’re sure it makes the scene all the more better. 

“It’s cold…. I don’t have anywhere to go home to.” you say. 

Eren walks over, his voice uncharacteristically soft, so gentle when he wraps the scarf around your neck that it makes your cheeks burn. 

“You can have this. It’s warm, right?” 

Grisha walks forward, placing a hand on Eren’s shoulder as he says his line. 

“Y/N. You should come live with us. You’ve been through plenty.” 

And when you look at Eren, you can feel your heart beating as he says the next lines. And for some reason, this version of Eren feels less like the character Eren and more like the real Eren. 

Your Eren. Tandem bikes, slushies, squeezing hands three times Eren. 

He reaches forward, squeezing your hand three times like he was reading your fucking mind, as he says the next line. While he acts dismissive, you can see the warmth in his eyes, and it feels like something else. Like he’s trying to hint something at you, tell you something you can’t exactly pick up on. 

“Come on. Let’s go back already. To our home.” 

And when you squeeze Eren’s hand three times back and trail off out of the shot of the camera, you both smile at each other, Eren turning to face you. 

“See you in a few months?” 

“Yeah.”

“Call me every day?” 

You roll your eyes as you reach over to flick his forehead, to which he pinches the sides of your waist. You squirm out of his hold, the feel of his fingers ticklish as you both laugh. 

“Yes, Eren. I’ll call you every day.” 

“Okay, good. Don’t forget me when you become famous overnight.” 

“You’re so full of shit, Eren. That’s not going to happen.” 

You’re totally wrong, for what it’s worth. The first episode of Attack on Titan airs on Friday. You and Eren start trending on Saturday.

--

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[holdmytesseract]

Against the odds

Chapter Eleven - Recovery and Revealments

a/n: So... A lot is going on in that chapter. 🤔

Word Count: 6,5k (Sorry!)

Warnings for this Chapter: mentions of past trauma, pregnancy things, FLUFF, light smut/suggestive smut, thirst, singing?

Masterlist

The first thing you saw, when you opened your eyes on this morning, was the handsome face of Tom. He was laying beside you, hand tucked underneath his head, causing the muscles in his arm to bulge. His oceanic blue eyes were sparkling in the morning light and the smile on his face was brighter than the sun. One thing definitely hadn't changed... You would never get tired of waking up beside that man. Never. "Morning." Tom's gruff, husky morning voice urged to your ears, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine. "Mornin'," you returned with a smile, and noticed how Tom scooted closer to you. His arms sneaked around your waist, as he pulled you against his chest and started to kiss you; both of you still somewhat half asleep. Tom's mouth moved lazily against yours, entrapping your lips gently in between his teeth once in a while. You smiled against his lips, enjoying those lazy kisses he gave you. At first, they were completely innocent and emanated from love - that was what you thought. But when Tom suddenly pulled you on top of him, slotted your hips onto his perfectly and placed both his hands on your sleep shorts clad bottom, you knew exactly what was on your boyfriend's mind and that those kisses wouldn't stay innocent.

A giggle against his mouth quickly turned into a low moan, as he bucked his hips up, straight into yours. While his palms sneaked underneath your sleep shorts to give the soft flesh a squeeze, wandered your hands down the sides of his defined torso; fingertips skimming his rips. You swallowed the low growl which escaped Tom's lips. His baby blues slipped shut at the feeling of your hands tracing his skin and the hem of his underwear.

You hooked your thumbs underneath his boxershorts, in order to free Tom from the redundant item of clothing and were about to slip one hand between his thighs, when the door to your guest bedroom suddenly burst open. "Good morning you two! Rise and shine!" You and Tom flinched, almost scared to death by the sudden interruption. At lighting speed, you pulled the covers over the both of you and slumped down on his body, providing him visual cover as well. The both of you stared wide eyed at the door, literally caught in the act. Nobody else than Chris was the intruder. "Chris!" You squeaked up. "Never heard of something called 'knocking'?!" Your brother had a smug smirk on his face now and was leaning casually against the door frame. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He asked, causing you to roll your eyes. Of course, he knew exactly what he had just walked into... "Sorry to interrupt, but our brunch is waiting for us. I've been calling you both on no end with no response." His smile even grew. "But as I can see, you have been... busy." You rolled your eyes once again, feeling the blush already creeping up on your face. You started a desperate try to convince Chris, that this wasn't what it looked like, but well... In vain. "Chris, we didn't-" "Of course you did, Arielle!" He interrupted you immediately; a shit-eating grin on his face. "I may be blonde, but not stupid or blind. No chance in denying it, sis. And now hurry up! We gotta go!" With those words, he left the room again, closing the door behind himself. Tom, who had said nothing to this whole situation, suddenly squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "Now that was a very close call..." "Mhm..." You agreed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "Next time, I am just going to lock the door." "Yes, we should definitely do that, love." Tom agreed, wrapping both his arms around you. "I don't want to get up, Tommy..." The Brit chuckled softly. "Me neither, but I'm afraid we have to, if we don't want Chris to drag us out of the bed." You nodded meekly and sat up with a sigh, before you climbed off Tom.

It's been three days since Tom was in Australia now. Three days since the important conversation between the two of you - and the discovery that you were having twins. Everything that happened those past three days felt so... surreal. Suddenly was the man you loved and had left without telling him he'd be a father back in your life - almost like nothing happened. You decided to have a break, shutting down the public life and just enjoying being together. It's been three days - and you already enjoyed every second of the vacation. It felt so good. So right. You definitely needed that - and you could tell that Tom did too. Being away from the media and publicity was all you needed. That, and having Tom with you...

The man laying beside you rubbed the remaining sleep out of his eyes and rolled out of the bed. You watched from the comforting sheets, how your boyfriend stepped over to the closet in order to get dressed. You just weren't able to take your eyes off of him. His backside was just as delicious as the front, without a doubt. Oh, how those muscles in his back flexed... And that ass... No wonder it had its own hashtag. You really couldn't blame all the fans for the obsession with the Hiddlesbum... You thanked your lucky stars that you were the one allowed to touch it. A deep chuckle from Tom interrupted your train of thoughts. "Are you done staring, darling?" You looked up to meet his eyes, giggling and shaking your head. "Nope. I will never be done, ogling my handsome man. Especially not now, with all those hormones running wild inside me." You stated, biting your lip. Your eyes travelled down his trained body once again. A fresh pair of black boxers - which were currently stretched to their limits; the single button holding on for dear life, were clinging to his hips now. Tom noticed your hungry eyes, of course; a smug smile spreading on his lips. "I feel utterly flattered that you are so enamoured with my… manliness, but we really have to go, my love." Another sigh left your lips. "Yeah, I know, I know... It's just the hormones, I'm sorry." Tom quickly stepped over to you, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. "I love it, don't apologise. Now come on."

After you had made it to drag yourself out of bed and get ready, the whole family went out for brunch. It was a beautiful Sunday and the food was delicious. Tom made sure that you ate enough and especially healthy things, because you had not only one, but two babies living inside you, which needed to be fed. The weather although didn't stay nice that day. It started to rain sometime around midday, which caused you and everybody else to have lazy day inside the house together, watching a movie and playing some board games.

The first week of yours and Tom's vacation started with a beautiful day on the beach. You were laying on a big picnic blanket underneath a palm tree, clad in your black bikini, eyes closed and just enjoying the sounds of the waves and wind. Tom laid beside you in a pair of black trunks and sunglasses; one hand intertwined with yours, the other stroked lazy, comforting circles in the skin of your slightly protruding belly. You loved how affectionate and loving he was with your unborn children. He'd make a great dad - you just knew it.

The wonderful peace you and Tom were in, got suddenly interrupted by a loud splash sound, directly beside you, followed by loud giggling. Tom's touch left you on an instant as he hastily sat up. You blinked your eyes open, wanting to see what happened. The Brit was soaking wet, from his hair to his toes. The culprits were quickly identified... Tristan and Sasha were fast to flee with two empty buckets in hands, giggling all the way - and Tom was quick to follow. He jumped up, "Oh they are going to get that back!" and sprinted behind them. Of course, your boyfriend was faster than the two little twin boys and caught up to them. You witnessed with a big smile on your face, how he scooped them up - one with each arm and carried them towards the water. Tristan and Sasha were both shrieking with laughter by now. "No, uncle Tom, no!" Tristan tried to get out of the situation, but it was no use. Tom went with them straight into the water, getting the boys soaking wet as well. You couldn't suppress the giggle as you watched them play together in the water, soon to be joined by Chris and Liam. They fooled around together. So much, that you had to ask yourself, if the twins really were the kids and not your brothers and boyfriend.

About twenty minutes later emerged Tom back from the water and jogged over to you, "Done playing?" before he plopped down beside you. "Mhm. Told them I have to go back to you, make sure you're okay." You scooted closer to Tom, in order to cuddle him. "I think I've never been better." He gave you that beautiful smile and leaned down to kiss you.

On Wednesday, you headed with Tom back to the beach, but this time in order to go snorkelling - and this required an eight hours car ride. From Byron Bay, all the way up to Gladstone. Why? Well, the reason was simple. Sure, you could have taken Tom snorkelling somewhere at the beach in Byron Bay, but why show him just a few fishes and algas, when there was so much more to see? For the day trip, you borrowed your brother's car, to get to the destination. Therefore, that it would take you eight hours to get there, you and Tom got up quite early. Six o'clock in the morning, you left the Hemsworth house. The good thing was, that Tom agreed to drive, so could sleep a few hours on the way. Tom insisted, since you were growing two babies and therefore needed the rest. If you weren't sleeping, you were eating, hoovering up one Sandwich after the next. Tom saw it of course, from the corner of his eyes and started to smirk. Luckily, you had packed enough stuff to eat...

"Darling?" You heard Tom's soft voice. "Y/N, wake up, love. We're in Gladstone." With a yawn, you blinked your eyes open, rubbing them. "Already?" A sweet chuckle left the handsome Brit's lips. "Well, you slept half of the ride, in contrary to me." You smiled sheepishly, "Okay, yeah, point for you, Tommy..." and reached over to place your hand on his thigh. "Do you need a break? Shall we rest a bit?" He shook his head, lifting his hand to brush your cheek. "No, I'm good, love. Let's go snorkelling! I was looking forward to this." You nodded, "Alright." and got out of the car, just like Tom. Hand in hand you walked to the beach and to the little kiosk thingy, which provided you with gear for the snorkelling. After you changed and were ready to go, a friendly man instructed you, gave you some helpful tips and taught you how to react in certain situations. That being said, you and Tom were free to go. Nearing the shore, you could feel how excited Tom was. "I'd always wanted to see the Great Barrier Reef." You giggled, taking his big hand back into yours. "Well, now you will, baby."

Together you dived into the warm, inviting water and went on your snorkelling trip. To say it was fantastic and absolutely beautiful was an understatement. It was marvellous and absolutely magical. Yes... You'd never get tired of the breath-taking beauty of the Great Barrier Reef... You and Tom saw countless different species of fishes, corals, seashells and starfishes in every form and colour. Hence, you even saw a sea turtle! It was magnificent.

Once you stepped out of the water again, Tom had a big smile on his face. "That was wonderful, darling." You reciprocated his smile, of course. "Right? I absolutely love snorkelling here." Your boyfriend quickly pulled you against his body, placing his hands on your hips, before capturing your lips with his. "Thanks for showing me this extraordinary piece of nature." "You are very welcome." Tom bestowed another kiss upon your lips. "What now, my love?" You thought for a moment, before rubbing your belly with a smile. "I think our little Hiddles would like to have a biiig ice cream." The Brit chuckled and stopped in his movements to place a hand on your baby bump as well. "Is that so?" "Mhm." "Well then... Who am I to deny my girls - and boys? this wish?"

After having a big ice cream, which you and Tom enjoyed at the beach, the two of you drove back home. Actually, you wanted to drive the whole distance, but after four hours, Tom insisted to take over again. Way after midnight, you were back at Byron Bay and more or less fell straight into bed.

The rest of the first week of vacation was spent the most of the time on the beach, mostly with the kids; and the evenings in Chris' and Elsa's whirlpool. Just like on this Saturday evening, while Tom nursed a bottle of Australia's finest beer. If you would've been not pregnant, you would've joined him in drinking beer, but well...

You were seated on Tom's lap, back pressed against his chest, gazing out into the starry night sky; the soft, warm summer breeze rustling your hair. Tom had an arm lazily draped around you and held his beer in his other hand. You couldn't even describe how happy you were in that moment. Being away from everyone and everything - except your family. "You better stop that now, my darling." Tom's words brought you back down to earth. "Stop what?" You asked in confusion, looking over your shoulder at him. Your boyfriend put the beer bottle aside and grabbed your hips with both his hands. "Wiggling around - unless you want an accident to happen." It took you a second to understand what he meant, but once realisation hit you, you started to smirk. You swiftly moved to turn around on Tom's lap, now facing him. "An accident, huh?" You purred, tracing your fingertips from his broad shoulders down his strong pecs. "What if I want that accident to happen?" The Brit's eyebrows perked up at your words; his oceanic blues following your hands, which were now ghosting over his defined stomach. "Ohhh, I see... My girl wants to play?" You giggled at his words, burying your face in his neck, kissing the wet skin there. "Maybe..." "Maybe?" A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, sending a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal through your veins. "I think it's very clear, darling." He pointed out, his hands toying with the hem of your bikini bottom. You kissed up his neck and chin, before locking your lips with his, kissing the man passionately. While Tom checked the surroundings for any intruders, you worked on slipping his swim shorts down his thighs. "Nobody around?" You asked, panting. Tom had a seductive smile plastered on his face, shaking his head. "All clear." "Well then..." You pulled him in another kiss and lowered your hips onto his, biting your lip to suppress a moan. You clawed your fingernails into his shoulders as gentle waves rocked against the edges of the swimming pool. Only the moon and the stars were witnesses to the love Tom and you made.

The second week of vacation started with a blast. It was Tuesday evening. India, Sasha and Tristan were at their grandparents for a few days, resulting in Elsa and Chris literally having the run of the house. That in return, resulted in the adults making a karaoke night...

"Okay... Who wants to start?" Asked Elsa, looking around with a smile. "I do, I do!" Liam yelled, bouncing up and down on the sofa like a literal four-year-old boy. Everybody laughed at the grown man's excitement. "Go ahead." Elsa said, nodding towards the big flat screen TV. Liam was quick to skip through the several songs, but found one he'd like to perform just as quick. A boyish giggle left his lips, as he pressed the play button. "Get ready for the performance of your lifetime, folks!"

As soon as the first tunes echoed from the little speakers beside the flat screen, standing on the TV stand, you buried your face in your hands, keeping yourself from giggling. "Oh gods..." YMCA by the Village People...

Young man there′s no need to feel down

I said young man pick yourself off the ground

I said young man 'cause your in a new town

There′s no need to be unhappy

Liam started to scream out the lyrics - and to say his singing skills were horrible was an understatement... The youngest Hemsworth man couldn't sing at all - like you and the rest all discovered very soon.

It′s fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.

It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.

They have everything For young men to enjoy.

You can hang out with all the boys.

But as bad as his singing was, the even better was his performance. It was so funny to watch him dance and deliver the known YMCA moves. You and everybody else had a lot of fun watching Liam and jamming along.

Once Liam finished his performance with a sway of his hips, you, Tom, Chris and Elsa broke out in loud cheers and claps. The man on the 'stage' took a bow, smiling like an idiot, before he sat down. "Bro, you're an awful singer, but your performance was absolutely amazing." You stated, patting your younger brother on his shoulder. Everybody agreed with a laugh. "I'm next!" Chris said, jumping up from the sofa. He needed almost five minutes to look for a song to sing... So picky. "Chris, what's taking you so long?" Asked Elsa with a laugh. "Gotta find the right one..." He huffed. But in the end, he made it and found the perfect song. One that represented his - yours and Liam's heritage. Australia. And not just that... It was a song your dad already loved and listened to regularly. Men at Work's 'Down Under'.

Traveling in a fried-out Kombi

On a hippie trail, head full of zombie

I met a strange lady, she made me nervous

She took me in and gave me breakfast

And she said

"Do you come from a land down under

Where women glow and men plunder?

Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?

You better run, you better take cover"

Everyone managed to scream the refrain with Chris; the song familiar to all people present in the big living room.

Through the whole song, you wallowed in memories.

Once Chris was finished, you had to wipe a few stray tears from your cheeks. Stupid hormones. Tom noticed it of course immediately; gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand in his. You blew your brother a kiss, smiling. "Thanks for that, Chris. I love it." He winked at you. "Me too, Arielle, me too."

"So... Who's next?" Tom asked around. Four pairs of eyes landed on him, as Liam patted his shoulder. "The stage is yours, Hiddles." Tom blushed a bit, before he nodded and stood up. "So it's gentlemen first, tonight?" "Seems so." You answered, giggling and releasing quite a bit reluctantly his warm, big hand, which had enveloped yours so perfectly. You would've guessed that Tom being Tom, he was going to sing either something by Michael Jackson - Man in the Mirror, to be exactly, or a love song. Well, you were right. He indeed decided on a love song. What you didn't know - until now, was that the song was one of his absolute favourites...

"I think I don't have to point out for who I am going to sing this song." Your boyfriend announced, oceanic blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

And what could you say? Your heart already started to melt, when you heard the first tunes of the chosen song... 'Stand by Me' - Ben E. King.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

No, I won't be afraid

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

Tom was a great singer, without a doubt. His beautiful deep voice, paired with the heart-warming lyrics, sent you into overdrive. You feared that your heart might bursted because all of the love you felt for the man in the white button up and dark blue jeans.

If the sky that we look upon

Should tumble and fall

Or the mountains should crumble to the sea

I won't cry, I won't cry

No I won't shed a tear

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

The charming Brit couldn't help himself, but to step over to you and take your hand into his once again, before getting down on one knee. Oh Lord, you almost had a heart attack at that move...

And darlin', darlin', stand by me

Oh, stand by me

Oh, stand now

Stand by me, stand by me

While you were literally flying somewhere up high on cloud nine, were the others watching the utterly romantic scenes unfold with heart eyes.

Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me

Oh, stand by me

Won't you stand by

The song ended with a soft hum; tears streaming down your cheeks. The love and affection Tom had shown you through this song was almost too much to handle. You lunged forward, hugging him tightly, before bestowing multiple kisses upon his lips. "I love you, Tommy. I love you so much."

Needless to say, was this karaoke night more than perfect.

With the week passing by and the weekend nearing, the preparations for your and Tom's Gender Reveal Party were running high. Elsa ran from one point to the next, in order to make sure everything was just perfect. You and Tom weren't even allowed to move around the house for the whole Saturday! Elsa literally trapped you in the guest room. But you didn't mind at all. The company was great. Around 4 p.m., Elsa told you and Tom to get dressed, putting on something nice. Of course, you followed her directions and changed from your cosy clothes - being one of Tom's t-shirts and way too big shorts, into a beautiful summer dress, which accentuated your small baby bump perfectly. Tom changed as well, wore now a light blue shirt, with the sleeves hitched up and black jeans shorts. He had freshly shaved and with his short, blonde-brown locks styled to perfection, he looked absolutely gorgeous. "Mhh, babe... You look so handsome." Tom smiled at you sheepishly, "Do I?" bridging the distance and wrapped both arms around your middle. "Mhm." You said, nodding and playing with the short hair on the back of his neck. "I'm not looking even as half as good as you do, darling." Your boyfriend rasped in that deep voice. "Thank you." You were blushing and tried to cover it up by slotting your lips over his, kissing him.

You would've even deepened the kiss, if a knock on your door wouldn't have interrupted your soft, slow, lazy make-out session. Pulling away from Tom's intoxicating lips, you peered over to the door. "Come in!" Mere seconds later sprung the door open, revealing a broadly smiling Elsa. "It's ready. You two can come, but-" She started, before she brought two blindfolds from behind her back. "Not without wearing these." A wave of excitement swooped through your belly at the sight. You shared a glance with Tom, both of you nodding. "Okay." The brown-haired woman quickly went to work, blindfolded firstly Tom, then you. "Alright. Are you two ready for your Gender Reveal Party?" A squeak left your lips. "Yes! More than ready!" You heard Tom chuckling sweetly beside you. "Me too." "Perfect. In that case... Here we go." You felt, how Elsa took your hand and led you through the hallway and down the stairs. Your heartbeat quickened with every step you took. This was something you always wanted - and suddenly it became reality. It was so utterly surreal, like being caught in a dream. But at the same time, you could feel it with every fibre of your body. So real, that you were sure you could touch it. The anticipation was rising within you, due to the fact that you had no idea what was about to come your way. Elsa had planned the entire party. Suddenly, you felt how Elsa's hand got replaced by another hand. A bigger one; a stronger one. Tom's hand. He gently squeezed your hand, before his thumb started to trace reassuring patterns in the skin there. This gesture caused you to smile softly. Tom was there - and he would never ever let go. "Alright... Tom, Y/N... Are you ready?" Elsa's voice urged to your ears. You nodded. "Yes!" Your boyfriend answered the same. "Okay..." You felt how somebody untied your blindfold. "Three... Two... One..."

The blindfold fell - and you got immediately greeted by cheers and 'woo's' from all around you. Your brain needed a second to take everything in; clearly a sensory overload. Your eyes darted around, taking in every inch of the beautifully decorated garden. Everything was pregnancy/baby themed. From the pink and blue balloons, which were literally everywhere, over the huge cake - which had pink and blue frosting, alongside some dummies and little shoes out of sugarpaste, to the decoration. Pink and blue paper cups, dishes and napkins. On the left side - across from the pool was a small buffet build up; also decorated with balloons and big paper cut outs. A onesie, nappy and baby bottle on which stood: Boys? Girls? Both?

It was absolutely beautiful. So beautiful, that you almost started to cry right then and there.

Once your brain registered this, you looked around the crowded garden, overwhelmed by so many people. Sure, there were Elsa, Liam, Sasha, Tristan, India and Chris, who was standing behind the big grill, preparing barbecue, but also your mom, your dad, your oldest brother, Benedict and Sophie - and even Tom's mom and sisters. Okay, they were waving at you through Skype on the tablet Elsa held in her hands, but nevertheless. They were here... They were all here. "Oh my gosh..." That was it. You couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Elsa had put this all up, just for you and Tom. Invited all the most important people in your life. Therefore, it was no wonder, that you literally ran to her first, wrapping her up in a big bear hug - but not without greeting Diana, Emma and Sarah through the screen first. "Gods, Elsa, this is amazing! How did you all do this?!" The woman just chuckled, squeezed you tightly. "Thank you so, so much, I'm so happy right now!" "This is only the beginning, sweetheart. Wait until you see the actual Gender Reveals." 

While you went to great the rest of your family, an already very emotional Tom greeted three of the four most important women in his life as well, before he went over to Ben and Sophie. "Ben, Sophie! What are you doing here?!" The Brit smiled broadly, hugging his best friend and his best friend's wife. The other Brit chuckled. "Well, we couldn't miss such an important event in the life of our dearest friend." "That's insane - and awesome. It's so great to see you, Ben. And you too, of course, Soph." Benedict smiled, wrapping an arm around the brown-haired woman, who nodded at Tom. "Likewise, Tom, likewise."

Your eyes fell on a face you hadn't seen in a long time, due to the job offer he had accepted six months back in Santo Domingo - which was over seventeen thousand kilometres away. "Luke?" Your eldest brother turned his head to meet your gaze, breaking out in a bright smile. "Hey Arielle." You quickly ran into his opened arms, hugging him tight. "Don't tell me you came all the way from Santo Domingo, just to be with me and Tom on our Gender Reveal Party." Luke's laughter rang in your ears. "'Course I did. What do you think? That I'm missing this? Hell no."

After marvelling a little while longer on the awesome party Elsa got going and talking to all of your guests - especially your parents (They were a really important part of this and your whole life.), Chris announced that the barbecue was ready, causing you to literally storm the buffet and loading your plate full with delicious food. You were just munching on a piece of garlic bread, when you felt a hand on the small of your back, sliding around to rest on your left hip. "My beautiful girlfriend is hungry, like I can see." Tom came to stand beside you, an amused smile on his lips. You swallowed the piece of garlic bread, nodding. "'Course I am. I have to eat for three. Your kids are hungry, Tommy." He giggled adorably, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Once everyone - or well, the most had feasted off the delicious barbecue and also had a slice of the cake and the sun was about to set, it was time for the main event, like Elsa announced. "Okay, Tom, Y/N you have to stand underneath the rose arch." The rose arch in the garden - which was as well beautifully decorated. All eyes were suddenly on you and Tom, as you stood underneath the rose arch. You spotted India, who had the important task to hold the tablet, on which was Skype opened once again, showing, like before, Tom's mom and sisters. "Perfect. Tristan, your part, sweetie!" Elsa called inside the house, from which the boy emerged, carrying a way too big box for his body size. Although, it didn't seem heavy. When he came closer, you saw that it was a big wrapped box - like a Christmas or birthday present. Tristan handed you and Tom the box over with a huge smile on his face, "Thank you, Tristan." before he ran over to his dad, who ruffled his hair in an affectionate manner. Only now did you realise, that a lot of people had fished out their mobiles, filming this special moment in yours and Tom's life. "Alright you two... It's time. Open the box and reveal the gender of twin baby number one!" Elsa said, grinning from ear to ear. Yours and Tom's eyes met, as you nodded at each other nervously, but also smiling. You still didn't know what exactly awaited you, once you opened that box, but you were excited to find out. "Together, love?" Tom asked in a hushed voice, taking one end of the big bow on top in between his fingers. You nodded, "Together." and took the other end in your hand. Together, you and Tom pulled, undoing the bow, letting it fall to the grassy ground beneath you. The force of what was inside the box, managed to push open the minimal resistance of the lid - and before you or Tom could even blink, a lot of pink balloons ascended up into the sky; accompanied by the loud claps and cheers from the people around you. A girl... One of the twins was a girl... That was what Tom thought as well. "A girl! Darling, we're having a little girl!" Your boyfriend literally screamed, before dropping the box - just like you did - and scooped you up into his arms, twirling you in a circle. A surprised squeak left your lips, which turned quickly into a light-hearted giggle. After your feet touched the ground again, your hands flew up to cup both Tom's cheek, looking into his teary eyes. You had started to cry a long time ago. "Told you we'd have a baby girl." He snorted out a laugh, on the verge of crying, before he pulled you closer, kissing you sweetly. "Okay, you two lovebirds! There's still baby number two waiting for their gender reveal!" You and Tom parted once again, trying to regain some composure. "Ready?" Elsa's sweet voice echoed through the garden as well. The Brit nodded, just like you did and reached for your hand.

"Sasha? Sweetie, you're on!" Just like his twin brother, stepped Sasha out of the house, carrying the same exact box and handing it over to and Tom. "Thank you, Sasha." The young boy smiled as well and ran over to his uncle Luke. Once more, you and Tom took the ends of the bow in your hands. "Ready, babe?" "I've never been more ready in all my life." For the second time, the bow fell to the ground and the balloons broke free - but this time they weren't pink. They were blue. This time, you were the first to let go of the box, before you literally jumped into your man's arms - who caught you effortlessly. "Woah there! Careful, darling!" Tears were running down your cheeks, dripping onto Tom's blue shirt. You couldn't put in words how happy you were in that exact moment. Tom just held you, shedding tears of happiness as well. The blood rushing through your ears and the soft sobs leaving Tom's throat drowned out the cheerful noises around you. All you could hear and feel was Tom - and the tingly feeling of the product of true love inside your belly. "Told you we'd have a baby boy." Tom whispered, mirroring your words from a few minutes earlier. All you could do was laugh through your tears. This was a night to remember. An evening you'd never ever forget in your whole life.

Five days later, it was almost time for you and Tom to pack your bags and head back to London for the premiere of 'The Moralizer'. But before you'd face this section of your life again, after disappearing over a month from the scene, you were going to enjoy the last few days with Tom.

Now that you knew you and Tom would welcome a baby girl and a baby boy in approximately five months into this world, you decided to go on a small shopping tour. Not in Brisbane though. This city would've been way too big to not get noticed, so you just stayed in Byron Bay for the trip. Hand in hand and with sunglasses covering both, yours and Tom's eyes, you strolled through the relatively quiet shopping streets, with your destination being every shop, which had baby things. You made a found really quick and pulled your man immediately inside the cosy, little shop. To say your motherly instincts kicked in on an instant was an understatement... "Awww, oh my goodness, Tommy..." You literally squealed, dragging your boyfriend over to the clothes section. "Look at that!" You pointed at a tiny pair of shoes. "Look how tiny they are!" The soon-to-be dad just giggled, falling all over again in love with you. "And those onesies, ahhh!" You rummaged through the million different onesies, smiling brightly. "Don't we have enough onesies, baby?" You violently shook your head. "Nope." Once again the Brit giggled. "But haven't we ordered at least twenty different onesies two days ago?" "Yes, but you can never have enough, can you?" You stated, throwing another three onesies into the shopping basket Tom was carrying. The man took a deep breath. That was going to be a veeery long shopping trip, he thought - and was to 100 per cent right.

After looking in every nook and cranny of the shop, you and Tom walked out with three bags of baby stuff, ranging from several clothes, over dummies and baby bottles, to burp cloths and rubber ducks. Tom being the gentleman and caring boyfriend/dad-to-be he is, carried the bags of course, all the way back to Chris' and Elsa's house. "Already back from the- wow!" Chris exclaimed, when he saw his best friend, hands full with bags of baby stuff. "Y/N bought all that?" The Brit nodded at his brother-from-another-mother. "Yep." He agreed, popping the p. Chris started to laugh, remembering exactly how Elsa was, when she had been pregnant. "Bro, is that normal?" The Aussie wrapped an arm around Tom's shoulder, nodding. "Absolutely. Elsa was the same. Welcome to pre-fatherhood, mate."

Another three days later, it was finally time for Tom and you to face reality once again. Well, at least halfway. Before the premiere and all the troubles that would come with it, Tom suggested to firstly fly completely relaxed and with no stress at all back to London and visit his mom first. After that, you could start to think about how to deal with the upcoming premier. Not now. Not yet.

"Are you ready to face the world once again, Arielle?" Your brother asked you, as you sat together on the porch swing in the Hemsworth garden, watching the sunrise and sipping a cup of coffee. Well, tea for you. You sighed, rubbing the underside of your ever-growing baby bump. "Honestly? I don't know. The past three weeks were like a dream for me - us. I desperately needed this break, and now that I have Tom back by my side and regained my mental strength, maybe I am. But I really can't tell." Chris smiled softly and placed his hand on yours. "You will be. I know that. Together, you and Tom can face the publicity once again. Like Elsa already said... Show them how happy you are. Show them what you have - or well... Will have." You giggled softly at his words. "Well, it's not quite easy to hide this anymore anyway, Chris..." You said, gesturing towards your clearly visible bump. "No chance to say I only gained weight. No one would believe me that. I definitely look pregnant." "I know, sis, but please don't worry. Tom is going to look after you out there. He's going to protect you and his babies. I hope you know that now." You nodded. "I do." "Good. Now come on..." The blonde-haired man said, taking the last sip of his coffee. "It's time. Wouldn't want you and Tom to miss your flight."

After thoroughly saying goodbye to the kids, Thor, Elsa and Liam, Chris drove you and Tom back to the Brisbane Airport, where this crazy journey literally began.

Tagging: @crimson25 @kikster606 @huntress-artemiss @123forgottherest @lovingchoices14 @ozymdias @vbecker10 @coldnique @lokixryss @simplyholl @peaches1958 @lokibadguy @jennyggggrrr @stephenstrangeaddictions @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mischief2sarawr @mypsychoticlove @mochie85 @muddyorbs @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @simping-for-marvel @lady-rose-moon @goblingirlsarah @kats72 @vickie5446 @buffyfan2833 @12-pm-510 @ladymischief11 @somewiseguy @woooonau @cabingrlandrandomcrap @alchemxx @honeyrydernot @evelyn-rathmore @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mossiswriting

[houppellande]

Read till end for Byron's memoirs 👀​👀​👀​

Wedding attire of Lady Annabella Byron (nee Milbanke) aka Lord Byron's wife. Yes. THAT Byron. From this simple but tasteful ensemble one can somewhat understand her character (and the fate of the marriage) a bit better.

J. C. Hobhouse, Byron's best man, describes her as such on that day:

[...] Miss Milbanke came in attended by her governess, the respectable Miss Clermont. She was dressed in a muslin gown trimmed with lace at the bottom, with a white muslin curricle jacket, very plain indeed, with nothing on her head. [...]

Miss Milbanke was as firm as a rock, and during the whole ceremony looked steadily at Byron – she repeated the words audibly and well. Byron hitched at first when he said “I, George Gordon”, and when he came to “with all my worldly goods I thee endow”, looked at me with a half-smile – they were married at eleven.

And this Lord Byron's wedding waistcoat, who is said to have belonged to King George the 2nd of England (it was re-taylored for regency fashion), and which Byron wore often.

And now for something completely different! An excerpt from the lost Memoirs of Lord Byron. While the manuscript itself was destroyed, many people read (and copied!) some parts. The editor of The John Bull Magazine (1824, on which the following excerpt was published) has of course made some "mutilations" (aka censorship), but the text seems genuine, and Byron's cheeky prose style manages to shine through. Some (including the Magazine's Author) say that THIS EXACT CHAPTER was the main reason for the burning of the Memoirs.

TW: dubious consent . . .

It was now near two o’clock in the morning, and I was jaded to the soul by the delay. I had left the company, and retired to a private apartment. Will those, who think that a bridegroom on his bridal night should be so thoroughly saturated with love, as to render it impossible for him to yield to any other feeling, pardon me when I say, that I had almost fallen asleep on a sofa, when a giggling, tittering, half-blushing face popped itself into the door, and popped as fast back again, after having whispered as audibly as a suivante whispers upon the stage, that Anne was in bed? It was one of her bridemaids. Yet such is the case. I was actually dozing. Matrimony begins very soon to operate narcotically—had it been a mistress—had it been an assignation with any animal, covered with a petticoat—any thing but a wife—why, perhaps, the case would have been different.

I found my way, however, at once into the bed-room, and tore off my garments. Your pious zeal will, I am sure, be quite shocked, when I tell you I did not say my prayers that evening—morning I mean. It was, I own, wrong in me, who had been educated in the pious and praying kingdom of Scotland, and must confess myself—you need not smile—at least half a Presbyterian. Miss N—l—should I yet say Lady Byron?—had turned herself away to the most remote verge, and tightly enwrapped herself in the bed-clothes. I called her by her name—her Christian name—her pet name—every name of endearment—I spoke in the softest under tones—in the most melodious upper tones of which my voice is master. She made no answer, but lay still, and I stole my arm under her neck, which exerted all the rigidity of all its muscles to prevent the (till then undreamt of) invasion. I turned up her head—but still not a word. With gentle force I removed the close-pressed folds of the sheet from her fine form—you must let me say that of her, unfashionable as it is, and unused as I have been to paying her compliments—she resisting all the while. After all, there is nothing like a coup de main in love or war. I conquered by means of one, with the other arm, for I had got it round her waist, and using all my strength, (and what is that of a woman, particularly a woman acting the modeste, to that of a vigorous fellow, who had cleft the Hellespont,) drew her to my arms, which now clasped her to my bosom with all the warmth of glowing, boiling passion, and all the pride of victory. I pressed my lips warmly to hers. There was no return of the pressure. I pressed them again and again—slightly at last was I answered, but still that slightly was sufficient. Ce n’est que la premiere pas qui coute. She had not, however, opened her lips. I put my hand upon her heart, and it palpitated with a strong and audible beating under my touch. Heaven help it! it little knew how much more reason it would, ere long, have for more serious and more lasting throbbings.As yet she had not uttered a word, and I was becoming tired of her obstinancy. I made, therefore, a last appeal. ‘Are you afraid of me, dearest?’—I uttered, in a half-fond, half-querulous, tone. It broke the ice. She answered in a low, timid, and subdued voice—‘I am not,’—and turned to me, for the first time, with that coy and gentle pressure which is, perhaps, the dearest and most delightful of all sensations ever to be enjoyed by man. I knew by it that I had conquered. 

(Please keep in mind that, while I consider myself a Byron enthusiast, I almost never agree with his choiches/courses of action. If you want my personal opinion, i'll be happy to exchange insights!)

[elvendria]

Noticing You - e.m x fem reader Part Two

Chapter Song: Chaotic - Tate McRae (Y/n will act like it's her song)

(Also Eddie has a job as a mechanic apprentice because let's be real, the idea of Eddie all sweaty and covered in grease is appealing)

tw: shy nerdy reader, shy eddie, sleazeball hellfire member (Not the guy unlisted, this is an OC character)

word count: 4467

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part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

September 2nd

My fingertips pressed against the ivory keys of the school's beat-up piano. Robin had asked me to consider joining band, and realistically I never play the piano at home anymore, at least not for myself. But I'm not totally sold on the idea.

It runs the first half of lunch, and it would be nice to get back out there and play with a group of people, not just to the mannequin the art department left in here after they were finished sketching the human figure. The thing is so creepy, I tried putting a hat on it just to make it look less, well, creepy, but all it did was make it look like a sleep paralysis demon with style.

After band, Robin caught up with me in the halls. She started rambling on about something Steve had said during their shift at Family Video. I was only listening to snippets of the conversation, trying desperately to get to the library before she dragged me to the cafeteria. But before I knew it, she'd linked my arms and started walking to the disgusting pit that people choose to eat lunch in. Willingly.

You'd think that I would at least have a chance at overpowering Robin given how tall and slight looking she is, but the truth is Robin spent her entire summer slinging ice cream, and she's got seriously strong arms because of it. An unfair advantage if you ask me, giving piano lessons to kids hardly builds up your strength.

"You're not holing up in your nerd castle just so you can avoid facing him." Robin laughed, practically dragging me down the halls, each step taking me closer and closer to food poisoning.

"I have no idea who you-" I started

"Shut up Y/n, did you forget that I sit beside you in bio already? I've seen how you look at him, I'm surprised he hasn't found out yet, you are one serious stealth master when it comes to hiding how you feel about someone,"

"I don't feel that way about anyone. It's a stupid concept reinforced by stupid people. I just get shy around him that's all,"

Just as I said that Vickie caught up with us and complimented Robin on her trumpet performance at band. Robin immediately went red and kept stumbling over her words, but in the end, she managed a "Thanks, you too," before Vickie walked away.

I keep forgetting how nervous Robin gets around people, especially girls. I guess it's another thing we have in common.

Walking into the cafeteria, I pulled my green and black flannel around myself, partially hiding the Metallica shirt I wore underneath. It used to be my Dad's, but I doubt he's going to come back to scold me about wearing his clothes. Even so, I didn't want Dustin to see it, he'd have a million questions and every second one would be "Are you okay?"

After grabbing what I can only assume is an attempt at lasagna, I spot my brother and wave before going to sit two tables down. He tries to beckon me over to sit with him, or to at least sit at the empty table between us, but he's with his Hellfire group, and I just wanted to be by myself. With Robin.

I taught Dustin how to play D&D when I was 10 and he was 7. Mom and Dad couldn't stop fighting, and he was almost always drunk. I didn't want Dustin to hear him, so I'd take him down to the basement or the back garden and try and distract him. He then brought his friends around and I taught them how to play D&D too, eventually resigning and letting Will Byers become their Dungeon Master. But with him having moved to California with Johnathan and Eleven, I guess they needed someone else to take over for Will.

I just wish it wasn't Eddie.

"Y/n, you're staring at your lunch like it's going to kill you." Robin laughed, sitting down across from me.

"I swear I saw the pasta move on its own," I say, poking at it with my fork. "See? It just blinked at me." I looked at the lunch lady, scratching at the mole on her face, and suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore. That was when I felt the weight of the cafeteria benches shift.

Looking across, I saw my brother's massive grin as he sat down beside me. He was digging into his lasagna and I suddenly wanted to be sick, even going so far as to fake gag. I picked up his lunch tray and put it in the trash in an attempt to prevent anything that may end with him in the nurse's office.

"Hey! I was enjoying that!" He grumbled, folding his arms and sulking in his seat.

"Yeah well I'll make you a grilled cheese later, one that won't leave you with your head in the toilet bowl," I said. He started to mimic me, which resulted in me mimicking him back, and we went on like that until Robin slammed her hands on the table, forcing us both to look at her.

"Oh my god, you two are the most childish people I've ever met, yet somehow you're still the most adorable people I've ever met. If I didn't already know you're brother and sister I would definitely guess that you're somehow related" Robin laughed, exchanging knowing looks with Mike.

"See? Even the thought of being related to you is sending my friends crazy." I nudged him in the side.

"Friend, singular. I don't see multiple people sitting here." He nudged me back.

"Speaking of, why are you sitting here, isn't your club table there," I said, nodding my head in the direction of the table Dustin normally sat at.

"Well you wouldn't sit with us, so we wanted to sit with you," I glanced over and saw that the rest of the hellfire club had started to pick up their lunch trays.

"Well, that's very sweet Dustbin, but Robin and I have something we need to work on for Bio class," I said, kicking Robin under the table. Harder than I meant to.

"What? Ow- I mean yeah, tons of homework, Mr Wright will be pissed if we don't finish it by Monday." Robin said, saving me from humiliation as we both stood up and began to walk away.

"What about coming by Hellfire tonight?" Dustin called out again,

"I'll pick you up at 6:30, but I've got homework and lessons Dustin so I'll be pretty busy." Suddenly mid-sentence my eyes locked with Eddies, and he held my stare for a moment, or a lifetime, I couldn't tell, and deep down a feeling stirred within me. I pushed it down and away as I turned and walked as fast as I could before I had the chance to make a fool of myself, Robin following along behind me.

"Damn," She said, "You've got it bad for that boy huh?" She teased me as we walked down the halls,

"I don't 'Have it bad' for anyone. I've already told you this. I'm just shy around people in general."

"Yes, but you're especially shy around our dear Mr Munson," She said, over-dramatically fluttering her eyelashes and cupping her hands beside her face.

"I'm not continuing this Robin, I'll wind up with a headache that will last for days," I said, stopping to sit on a bench in the hall "Anyways we've discussed this before, I'm more nervous around him because I made a fool of myself in front of him in middle school."

"Fine, I get it. But we have a problem with our excuse. Dustin's going to say it to Eddie, and Eddies in our bio class, he's going to know we have nothing due." Robin said, sitting beside me and placing her head on my shoulder. We both let out a really loud sigh

"Oh god," I said, wanting to hide in the furthest corner of the world where no one will ever find me.

Classes seemed to drag on until the bell rang. I thought about making my way home to start on my English homework. But as I was passing by the music room, I caught sight of the piano, and it was like my heart lulled me to it.

I waited till the halls were fairly empty, getting a few homework assignments done before I sat at the bench and played random notes that had been bouncing around my head all day. Humming the tune as I played, I tried pairing it with lyrics I had written down sometime last week,

"I have this paralyzing fear that I'll maybe go nowhere," I started quietly, afraid in case lingering students still in the halls might hear me.

"But God forbid me ever admitting I could be scared." I continued humming the tune until I got to the next section of lyrics I had written.

"You said it looks like I've been going through hell,  How did you know, how could you tell?"

I didn't have anything else to go along with that just yet, but it was getting there, and I liked the way it sounded.

As I was getting up to leave, I could hear some rustling outside the door followed by the sound of someone running. I just grabbed my bag and left, if I was late to another teaching lesson, Mrs O'Dwyer would find someone else to teach her bratty child how to play the piano. The girl doesn't even attempt to learn, but her mother pays well and doesn't skimp out even though I'm not qualified to teach.

Getting into the car, I saw there was only one car left in the parking lot. He sat in it and looked straight ahead like he was thinking a million things at once.

I suddenly felt awful. Everyone calls him "The Freak," and here I was, acting as if I agreed with them. There were days when I so desperately wanted to speak to him, to say that I liked his tattoos, but the minute I see him I clam up, and no words are uttered until I'm alone in my car that afternoon. Then I go and say everything I wish I said to him during the day.

I checked my watch. It was 3:30 now, Dustin would need me to pick him up in 3 hours.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I did what I do best, and pushed everything down until I couldn't feel anything anymore.

I got home and by the time I finished teaching the little brat and done a few assignments, it was time to pick up Dustin. It was dark out, and it looked like it might rain. I grabbed an umbrella just in case and made my way to the school.

It held some type of fascinating eeriness to it at night. The kind that made the hair on your arms stand up straight and sent a chill down your spine.

Dustin, Lucas and Mike came bouncing out of the school doors, laughing at each other before hopping in the car.

"How was Hellfire?" I asked as we pulled out of the parking lot. The steering had become stiff, which is never a good sign.

"It was so cool Y/n, Eddie is just the best!" Mike announced from the back seat, earning a round of agreements from the rest of the boys.

I was halfway home when my baby made a sputtering noise that didn't sound good. I was only a mile from home, and thankfully we made it to the end of the street before she gave out completely.

"Guys get out, Dustin go to the house and call the Sinclair's and the Wheeler's. Tell them my car is broken down but Lucas and Mike are more than welcome to stay with us till tomorrow. They left clothes from the last time they stayed and mom washed them so they should be OK" I told them as they clambered out of the car and made their way up the road,

"Guess I'm taking you to the shop tomorrow," I said, rubbing the wheel of my car. 

"That should be fun."

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EDDIES POV

*earlier that day*

I sat in Ms O'Donnell's, twiddling the pen between my fingers, trying my best to pay attention, but all I could think about for the past 37 days was my D&D Campaign, playing the guitar, and the redhead that I knocked over outside the library on the first day back.

I'd seen her around, and I almost always saw her coming out of the library during lunch. The day that we bumped into each other and she dropped everything, she forgot to pick up a pen, and I don't know why, but I held onto it.

Y'know, in case she ever needed it back.

But every time I'd get close to her, She'd rush away. I almost caught her at her locker once, I was going to tap her on the shoulder and give it back, but I froze about 5 steps away from her. I remember my heart was beating louder than Gareth on the drums and my palms were weirdly sweaty. The next thing I know the bell is ringing and I've turned and walked away in the opposite direction.

At first, I thought she was like everyone else, who only saw me as Eddie "The Freak" Munson, but then her brother joined Hellfire, and I slowly but surely wormed the answers I needed out of him when no one was around. And boy, when I got one answer, I pretty much got them all at once.

Dustin did not know when to shut up. Kid was a goddamn blabbermouth. He wasn't a bad dude. Less annoying than I thought he would be, but not by much. Still, I liked him. He brought a decent sense of humor to the party.

-Last Week-

"Oh, Y/n? Yeah, she's just shy around everyone. I'm surprised she's friends with Robin, maybe it's because she sits beside her and is pretty much forced to talk to her. All she ever does is hang out in the library or give music lessons to little kids." Dustin rambled on. "And every other evening she's working in the new diner."

Guess I was going to have to start making more trips to the diner then.

"Oh yeah? What kind of instrument does she play?" I asked after Hellfire one night when no one else was around, not sure what I was expecting to hear.

"Piano mostly," He told me as we packed up the last few bits from the game. "She used to play the guitar a lot." He said quietly, packing the last of his things into his bag.

I had about 10 more questions just off that sentence alone. Why did she stop? Who taught her? Was she any good still? I was about to ask when Dustin called out a goodbye before exiting the room, leaving me with what felt like a million unanswered questions.

-Present Day-

The class bell rang, signalling the start of lunch, and I was making my way to the cafeteria when I suddenly found myself making my way to the library. I stood there for about 10 minutes, not fully knowing why this was happening, but 100% knowing what I hoped would happen. That she would turn the hall and walk down here, smiling and saying hi as she saw me, before walking into the library and doing whatever it is she does in there.

I looked at the ground and thought of where she fell that day. I thought about how her glasses flew from their resting place on the crown of her head, and how I felt when I handed them back to her.

In that moment, all the colours in the world suddenly felt so dull and drab compared to the pool of blues and greens in her eyes.

Suddenly, they were the only thing I wanted to see for the rest of my life. I wanted to study each individual eyelash and watch as her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled.

After 10 minutes, she hadn't arrived, and I couldn't see her inside already. Feeling defeated, I turned and walked to the cafeteria, meeting up with the rest of the guys at "the freaks" table. Gareth, Jeff, Paul and George sat there with Mike and Dustin, the group trying to convince George not to leave the group. Personally, I couldn't care less if the sleazeball stayed or left. When I sat down and started shoving pretzels in my mouth we began talking about the important stuff, the new campaign.

After a while, I saw Dustin waving his arms around like a crazy person, which I've come to realize isn't totally out of the ordinary for him, but this time he let out a defeated sigh, which made me think he was trying to get someone's attention.

This was my chance. I smirked at Dustin from across the table.

"10 bucks you can't get her to sit with us," Giving him a sly smile. Surely she wouldn't say no to sitting with her brother right?

"Hell, I bet 20 bucks he won't even be able to talk to her." George laughed, not realizing the relation. "She's in my English class, and let's just say I'd like to see those lips do more than recite Shakespeare."

I kicked him under the table and shot him a death stare, "Do you have to be so fucking gross all the damn time?" Why was I so angry right now?

"What man? She's a hot senior who apparently listens to good music, of course I'm gonna want a piece of that," He said smugly,

I threw a handful of pretzels at his head, wishing they were something a lot heavier.

"Watch your goddamn mouth George." I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Deal," Dustin said loudly, breaking the tension as he gave me a knowing look, and yet he looked curious at the same time, "On the getting her to sit with us thing. Once Mike and I are over there, we'll give the signal and you come join us. Piece of cake."

I could hear her conversation about how disgusting the lunch looked, and to be fair she wasn't wrong. When she said the food was blinking at her I nearly laughed but suppressed it as Dustin had just sat at her table.

He started digging into his lunch and she looked like he was going to be sick, even feigning gagging.

"Eddie, he is so blowing this." George said smugly as she got up from the table "I can smell my 20 bucks already."

Dustin gave the signal, but I didn't want to go just yet. I motioned for the boys to hang on for a bit before heading over, and just as I suspected, she came back and sat with Dustin,

"Hey! I was enjoying that!" He sat back in his chair and folded his arms

"I guess you're down 20 bucks George, Dustin over there is chatting up a storm." Jeff laughed.

"Yeah well I'll make him a grilled cheese later, one that won't leave you with your head in the toilet bowl," She said back.

"Did she just invite him over? Is that even legal?" Gareth questioned in all seriousness. I just watched her as she poked fun at Dustin. She was terrible at impressions, but clearly, it runs in the family. I didn't realize I was staring until Robin Buckley slammed her hands on the table, pulling me from my daze.

"Oh my god, you two are the most childish people I've ever met, yet somehow you're still the most adorable people I've ever met. If I didn't already know you're brother and sister I would definitely guess that you're somehow related," Robin laughed at them. I wanted to laugh too, but I was trying to keep a straight face.

"Wait, they're related? No fair! I'm revoking my bet, it doesn't count if they already know each other." George was such a sore loser, both in and out of D&D campaigns. Things will be so much easier when he quits, and thank god he's not in the band so I don't have to see him outside of school.  

"A deals a deal gentlemen, and we said we'd go join him. Grab your lunches and let's go." I said to them, but just as we picked up our trays, I heard her say,

"Well that's very sweet Dustbin, but Robin and I have something that we need to work on for bio class." She hurriedly rose from the table as Robin muttered something about homework for Mr Wright.

We didn't have biology homework. 

Wait did we?

No, we didn't, I remember class this morning. He was talking about cells and other boring shit, but I remember not getting homework because Harrington would not shut up about having more time over the weekend.

As she got up to leave she told Dustin she'd get him from Hellfire tonight after her lessons. Does she give lessons? I remember Dustin saying she gave them to little kids, but I thought that was just a summer job-type thing.

Our stares met for a moment, her eyes were like the colour of a golden hazelnut and I felt a weird tightness in my chest. As she turned away I saw her Metallica shirt and raised an eyebrow.

"So, big sis is a heavy metal fan huh? Doesn't seem the type." I asked Dustin as lunch ended.

"Oh, the shirt? It was my Dad's. He used to love heavy metal music. He used to put it on and dance around the room with her. Or at least attempt to dance," he spoke both quietly and nonchalantly, "When he left, she stopped listening to it, but she still keeps his old vinyl collection in her wardrobe and she wears that shirt when she's stressed or upset," He let out a sigh as I walked alongside him in silence "She thinks I don't know that, but I do."

I couldn't think of anything else to say. I felt like I was starting to know her, to relate to her, without ever actually speaking to her. I couldn't bring myself to say her name, it felt weird to call her by it when she hadn't even officially spoken to me.

I gave Dustin a pat on the shoulder and a small smile, before turning and walking to class.

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

I spent most of my time in my last few classes doodling notes for tonight's campaign. When the bell finally rang, I jumped out of my seat and was almost out the door when Mr Finch called me back into the history classroom.

"Eddie, I know you don't care now, but I hope you understand that you need to work a bit harder in class and pay attention. You may not care now, but if you want to graduate you need at least a C in this class. It's very important."

I nodded in agreement and he let me leave the class. How is anything I learn here going to benefit me in the future? I grabbed a few books from my locker but when I was passing the music room I could hear someone playing the piano.

I looked through the window in the door to see if it was her. She sat playing a few keys once in a while and then jotting something down. Did she write music?

"I have this paralyzing fear that I'll maybe go nowhere," She sang quietly

Well, that answers that question.

I listened to her finish her piece, sitting on the floor outside just in case she might see me. When I heard the music stop, I peeked my head up to look at her, and she was just about to get up to leave.

"Shit," I whisper-yelled to myself, grabbing my bag and sprinting down the hall before anyone could see me, almost falling a few times in the process.

I reached my car and sat there trying to catch my breath. There was a reason I didn't try out for the track team. I thought about her singing, her voice, her laugh, and the tightness in my chest came back.

I reached behind me into the back of my van to pull out my box of cigarettes and a lighter from my duffel bag with my spare clothes in it for work at Wayne's Mechanic shop later. I was only going to check stock, but that place is covered in oil, and I didn't want to ruin my clothes.

I sat around for a few minutes and smoked, not thinking of much, before heading in to start up the club.

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

"Hellfire can not be run in just 3 hours," Mike groaned at the end of the session, "Every time we get somewhere good, we have to finish up for the week."

"Normally I'd agree with you Wheeler, but next week is going to blow your minds!" I laughed whilst twiddling my thumbs, attempting to appear manic and succeeding.

Everyone filed out of the classroom turned dungeon and into the car park, and there she was, just like she said she'd be. Dustin, Lucas and Mike walked over to her, her eyes lighting up slightly as she saw them. I wanted to go over and talk to her about anything and everything. To let her know that she has a fantastic smile that I wish she would direct at me, just once. But before I could move my feet, they drove off in her little yellow car.

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

Later that evening, I was about to close up shop when the phone rang. Probably someone in need of help during the rainstorm.

"Hey-lo, Munson Motor Shop, Eddie here," I answered

"Fuck." the woman on the other end of the line whispered, followed by a dead silence.

"Um, hello?" I was getting impatient now, it was 9 and I wanted to close up shop.

"My car broke down, there was smoke coming out of the hood but it seemed to have stopped, I don't know if that's because of the rain or what, but I was wondering if you could send a tow car out tomorrow to bring it back and have a look?" She rambled off.

"We can send one now if you need immediate assistance, the rains really coming down out there."

"Thanks, thankfully I broke down near my home, so I'll be okay for tonight."

"As long as you're sure,"

"I'm sure," She breathed down the phone.

"Okay well, if you just want to give me a number and address I'll come by tomorrow and pick it up," I said, taking down her details as she called them out to me.

"I'll also just need your name." I held the pen to the paper, ready to start writing again,

"It's Y/n Henderson," She replied, I could almost hear her shiver down the phone.

As if on instinct, I removed the person's name from the very first slot and put hers in. Mr Carver could find someone else to wash his sons car.

"No problem Y/n, I'll be out to you first thing tomorrow,"

We both said our goodbyes as we hung up the phone.

Tomorrow should be fun.

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

let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming parts!

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

[fwtomura]

Breathe Into Your Hungry Appetite

cw: ghostsoap (simon riley x john mactavish), modern au, drug dealer au, mentions of weed, eventual smut, that’s abt it.

CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE

this is my first time posting on fucking tumblr so don’t give me shit for this😞😞 this fic is abt drug dealer soap and buyer simon where they’re got a ton of sexual tension but don’t really know how to act on it without the help of weed :3 !

Mornings were never a favorite time of day for Simon Riley. Eleven o‘clock could hardly even be considered morning, but it was by his standards. He awoke with that same dull, aching pain in his lower back. He wasn’t able to tell if it was from sleeping weirdly or his mattress that was nearly half his age at this point, but he didn’t entirely care regardless.

Whatever the reason, his joints still ached as he sat up to stretch, pushing the blankets off of his body to form a messy pile in the empty side of his bed. His feet met the carpet before he stood up, prompting his lazy shuffle towards the bathroom as he rubbed the residual sleep from his eyes.

He didn’t spare a thought towards his unmade bed. What the hell was the point of making it if he was just going to sleep on it and mess it up again?? He went through the motions of the rest of his morning routine; brushing his teeth, splashing a bit of water on his face to wake himself up fully, and getting a comb through his hair just enough to make it look a bit less of a mess than usual before he went back into his room to smoke a bowl. He was running low on his weed. He made a mental note to message Soap about it later.

He’d only been smoking for the last year or so after some encouragement from his brother, Tommy. God only knows how much Tommy heard from his complaining about his insomnia and back pain. His suggestion had been to start smoking weed and to his credit, it worked. it was a bit less of a conventional method by most people’s standards, but it worked and saved Simon the trouble of having to book too many doctor appointments just to be giving medication that could make things worse instead of properly helping him.

The gratification was nearly instant as soon as Simon felt the smoke hit his lungs, the gentle burn in his throat keeping him grounded as he exhaled. His morning ritual of smoking a bowl was always just as rewarding. Feeling his head slowly filling with cotton and everything around him dulling was euphoric, even bordering on therapeutic. The ache in his limbs and back dulling with each slow inhale from his pipe, his head finally seeming to grow quiet for just a moment was nothing short of pure bliss. He was shocked back into reality by a small piece of ash maneuvering it’s way through the pipe, into his mouth, and conveniently striking him in the back of his throat, sending Simon into a rather brutal coughing fit. Roach would call those “scooby snacks”and Simon felt the need to tell him how stupid it sounded every time he said it. It sounded childish but he still felt it was an accurate description.

He quickly cleaned up his setup as soon as he finished, clearing out the pipe and making a mental note to properly wash it later, but it was highly likely that he wouldn’t end up actually doing it. He headed downstairs to make breakfast. It was just a bowl of cereal, but he needed to keep himself fed at the very least. He turned the TV in the living room on for some background noise, not too bothered with properly watching it.

The vast majority of his mornings started off like this. He worked part time evening shifts at a record shop that was a ten minute walk away from his house. If Simon wasn’t working, he was more than likely spending time at home either playing his guitar or sleeping. He didn’t tend to get out of the house too much, but he preferred it that way. He rarely left the house aside from work or to get weed and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meeting up with friends was exhausting and he always needed to be alone for a few hours after any kind of heavy social interaction. Every overlapping sound of conversations, to music, to people just walking around were overwhelming. Smoking helped him stay calm for the most part, but it only helped to a certain extent. He would proudly be a hermit for the rest of his life, it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

One of the few people Simon interacted with regularly was his dealer. His name was ‘Soap’ but Simon knew he that wasn’t his actual name. He just hadn’t gotten around to bullying that information out of him yet. Soap was.. a fairly interesting character, to say the least. He was only a couple years younger than Simon and around half a head shorter than him.

Simon had never seen Soap dressed up nicely. The vast majority of the time, he was wearing a black t-shirt, either black or grey matching sweatpants, and a pair of slides with socks that looked like they’d been to hell and back. He always wore the same gold cross around his neck, which Simon was almost positive was fake but wasn’t sure. Soap smelled like expensive cologne and weed typically. He was undeniably attractive despite the overgrown mohawk/mullet that Simon would frequently bully him for having. He was good looking but he seemed to have a habit of getting under Simon’s skin every time he saw him. It pissed Simon off, but he still enjoyed his presence.

Fuck. That’s what he’d been forgetting. He needed to text him. He sat down his cereal and grabbed his phone, shooting Soap a quick text.

💀: hey, are u busy rn?

🧼: never too busy 4 u

🧼: what do you need?

Soaps response came quicker than Simon expected. He always had a habit of responding quickly when it came to him, but it still managed to surprise him sometimes.

💀: running a bit low. could you swing by sometime today with an ounce?

🧼: ill be there in 20

As annoying as Simon found himself at times, Soap had always had a habit of being particularly punctual with his “delivery” times. They had built up a bit of a routine through their time together. Soap would pull up, Ghost would get in the car with him, and they’d drive around for a bit so that the interaction would seem less suspicious, and Soap would drop him back off with his weed.

Even though Soap said he’d be there in twenty minutes, Simon still went downstairs and sat on the couch, almsot immediately putting his shoes on and scrolling through his phone to pass time. It felt extremely awkward, and Roach frequently gave him shit for it, but Simon liked being able to head straight out of the door as soon as he heard Soap’s shitty Honda pulling into his neighborhood. He could hear it from nearly a block away every time. Soap never sad to send him a text letting him know that he was there.

“Are you waiting for Soap?” Simon nearly startled when he heard Roach speak. He’d come into the living room from the kitchen. Despite being so tall, Roach always seemed to move through the house without a sound and startle Simon at least once per day.

“Jesus H.. Need to get you a bell or something. Yeah, I am.” Simon sat up properly, watching as Roach gave him a quick nod before walking towards the stairs.

“You don’t need to wait by the door like a fuckin’ dog every time he’s coming by.”

“And you need to get a better fucking’ hobby than giving me shit all day.” Simon waved him off briefly before checking the time on his phone. Soap would e arriving any minute. As harsh as he was towards Roach, he was one of the few people who he was properly close to. They’d both seen each other at their respective low points and were extremely close, but Roach knew how to get under Simon’s skin just like how Tommy would when they were still living together. Simon frequently wanted to put him in a headlock, but that was just their friendship.

Like clockwork, Simon heard Soap pulling up outside and he left the house just as Soap was pulling into the driveway. He drove a rather beat up looking old, white Honda civic. Three of the door had rust on them, one of them didn’t even open, and all of the hubcaps were scuffed as all hell, the cheap gold overlay revealing the lover quality metal underneath. The car was never clean, interior or exterior, but Simon never judged that. He didn’t even have a car so arguably, Soap was faring much better than he was.

As soon as Soap put the car in park, Ghost was opening the door and sitting down. The floor was the cleanest that he’d seen it recently, having only a few empty bottles along with some scattered napkins across the mat. Soap didn’t even have to move anything off of the passenger seat so that Ghost could sit down.

“Even cleaned up for meg How polite…” Ghost mumbled as he sat down, quickly buckling his seatbelt as Soap started backing out of the driveway. His arm was pressed against the back of Simon’s headrest, perfectly displaying the tattoos and veins trailing down his forearms. Ghost would be lying if he said he didn’t want to—

“Only the best for my favorite customer.” There was laying it in thick again. As much as Ghost liked to pretend that it bothered him, he did enjoy how Soap tended to dote on him whenever they were together. It was hard to tell him to back off whenever he’d flash that same charming smile while sily fiddling with his cross. He had a certain charm to him that Ghost couldn’t help but be drawn to.

“Are you hungry? Have you eaten today?”

“I ate today, yeah.” Soap always had the tendency to check on him like this, and as much as Ghost found it annoying, it wa strangely endearing.

“If you’re hungry, we can go get something. I don’t mind the extra trip if you are.” Fucking hell . He wasn’t a child, he could feed himself.

“You don’t need to, I’m fine. You’re already bringing me weed, I don’t need food on top of that.” Ghost fiddle awkwardly with the cash in his pocket, blushing ever so slightly under his back surgical mask.

“I’m just saying.. If you change your mind, let me know, alright?” They sat in silence for a moment, Soap’s playlist on at a low volume in the background. The speakers in his car were blown out. If music was played at too high of a volume, you could barely even understand it. “What’d you think of the last stuff I gave you?”

“It was nice, definitely helped out with the sleep issues and everything else. It worked a little too well, honestly.” Ghost reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack is cigarettes, offering one to Soap before lighting one and cracking the window a bit. “I slept really well with it, but it honestly made me a bit too tired in a way. Going to work after smoking it was a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“I figured it might. That shit put me straight to sleep when I tried it. Did it help much with your back?”

“It did, yeah. Not so much waking up, but it didn’t bug me too much after having a bowl.” His check ins with Soap nearly felt like medication evaluation sometimes, but he appreciated that he cared enough to see if he got the strain right for him.

“Glad to hear it. If being tired is what got you, I have a different strain I can give you. This one’s a bit more of a head high than a body high. Should be decent for keepin’ you on your feet all day. It’s a new one I got in. I threw a couple grams of it in that baggie for you,” Soap gestured at the plastic bag stashed in the corner console. “It’s a separate from the ounce. Let me know if you end up liking it and If can give you a bit more of it whenever I see you next.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Just forty.” Ghost nearly did a double take as soon as he spoke, freezing from where he was counting up his money.

“Only forty? Bullshit.” He turned slightly in his seat so that he could properly face Soap, his mask still pulled down beneath his chin as his cigarette dangled out of the side of his mouth.

“I’m serious. It’s on me.” Soap reached over, giving Ghost a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’s a new strain, and I haven’t gotten many people to try it. ‘M not gunna make you pay for it if you don’t even know if you’ll like it. It’s my treat.”

“If you fuckin’ say so…” Ghost placed the bag in his pocket, puffing on his cigarette as they kept driving. Soap was taking the same loop that he always did. It took around twenty minutes. His excuse was that it made everything look less suspicious and Ghost took his word for it.

“Hey, Soap?”

Soap gave a soft him in acknowledgment, slowly making a left turn with only one hand on the wheel.

“What’s your actual name? And don’t fuckin’ lie to me about it I know damn well your real name isn’t Soap.” He couldn’t give him too much shit, Ghost hadn’t given him his real name either. He’d make the excuse of wanting to keep his identity a bit more private, particularly when he initially met Soap. Since he’d been in contact with him for the past six months, it only felt fitting to ask that now.

“I’ll tell you if you give me your name first.” He glanced over to Ghost briefly before turning his attention back to the rode.

“It’s Simon.”

“Of all the names in the world you could’ve picked, you picked Simon?”

“Oh fuck off. What’s yours then? If you’re gunna give me shit, what’s yours?”

“It’s john.” Ghost fully barked out a laugh, nearly losing his cigarette in the process. His shoulders shook slightly as he tired to calm himself back down. “What? Don’t fuckin’ laugh! My dad picked it out you fuckin’ bastard.”

“You have absolutely no right to give me shit when your name is John. Get the fuck out of here.” Ghost wheezed softly, ashing out his cigarette into the designated cup in the center console. “Did your friends call you Johnny?”

“Fuck no. I hated that shit when I was growing up.” Soap pulled into a parking like briefly, turning the car around and starting to head back towards Ghost’s house. “I don’t mind hearing it from you though. Sounds nice.”

The rest of the drive back home to Simon’s house was made in comfortable silence, neither of them having too much else that they wanted to say. It was oddly comforting spending that time with Soap. He didn’t feel obligated to talk to him and he was extremely grateful for it. He enjoyed his company, despite the fact that he found Soap annoying as all hell at times. He was strangely endearing. He found himself hesitating to reach for the door as soon as Soap pulled into his driveway.

“Hate to drop you back home so soon.. Are you busy later tonight? Id like to see you.” Soap’s eyes felt nearly piercing from where he sat, and Simon almost immediately held eye contact. He wanted to invite him in for a moment, but decided against it.

“I’ve got laundry to do tonight, unfortunately. Maybe some other time.” It was partially a lie. Simon did enjoy his company, but he wasn’t exactly in a rush to hang out with him or have him come over.

“Let me know. Id like to hang out with you aside from just running you over your stuff.” Interesting..

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Simon opened the door of the car, stepping out before leaning down to talk to Soap easier. “I’ll talk to you later, Johnny.”

He shut the door before Soap could respond. Was it rude? Arguably, but he knew that he could end up talking to Soap for hours if he didn’t cut the conversation off. He quickly headed inside, locking the door and kicking his shoes off before heading upstairs to his room. He opened up his stash box and took the baggie that Soap had given him out of his pocket. He separated out the bags, placing the smaller bag with the new strain separately from his remaining weed. In the larger bag, there was a small box of rolling papers and… a note?

“XXX-XXX-XXXX text me? >_0”

It wasn’t entirely out of character. Considering they’d been using different apps for texting, it made sense that Soap would give him his proper phone number. Still, it felt somewhat odd. Particularly with a winky face on the note. Simon decided not to think about it all too hard.

He got everything back into his bowl, grabbing his grinder that had the remaining amount of bud that Soap had giving him previously and loading it into his bowl. He sat down onto his bed up near the headboard, cracking open the window open as not to hotbox the entire room. It was definitely on its way out, but the weed was till perfectly fine. Simon didn’t have any plans for that kuhnt and was only planning on watching TV and tuning out the world. He always preferred a laid back night that like that to going out.

He had just gotten his pipe cleaned out and put away, settling down into bed when he heard a knock at the door. Knowing it was roach, he called for him to come in.

“Hey, party at Garrick’s tonight, are you coming with?” Roach was leaning against the doorway, his hand still resting in the doorknob. A party was the absolute last thing that Simon wanted to do if he was completely honest.

“No, I’m not coming with. Tell Gaz I said hi.” Simon was hoping thad be enough to get Roach out of his hair, but judging by the scowl on his face, it apparently wasn’t.

“Dude, cut the shit. I’m convinced that you don’t leave the house outside of work and getting weed. When was the last time you saw the sun?”

“What are you, my fucking mother?”

“I’m fucking not but jesus christ, Simon. I’m worried about you, seriously. You need to get out of the house more. It’s not healthy.” Simon hated when Roach would fuss over him like this, but the behavior was warranted to an extent. He appreciated it, but it felt a little overbearing at times.

“I’m alright, Gary, I promise. I’m not feeling too good tonight,” That was a complete fucking lie, but he needed an excuse. “I’ll just be a bum if I go. You have fun, I’ll come next time.”

“Aww… does your tummy hurt??” Simon promptly flung the nearest pillow at him, which Roach expertly dodged. “Have fun sulking around the house. I’m holding you to that promise. I’m dragging you with me next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off, go have fun. I’ll catch up with you later.” Roach tossed the pillow back over to him before shutting the door behind him. Simon heard him heading off down the stairs and out of the house, relaxing a little as he heard his car starting and driving off.

He rolled over to face the TV, barely even watching it. He could hear thunder faintly off in the distance and quickly closed his window just before the rain startled up. It was a miserable night to be out anyways. He spent the remainder of his evening curled up with his blankets, being pulled off to sleep by the soft pattering of the rain against the glass of his window.