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emepe · 7 days

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— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The first 48 hours are crucial when a person goes missing. Eren can only pray it’s enough to reach you..

— Content warnings: emetophobia, mention of assault.

— Notes: Helloooo!!! Welcome to TV Friday number 12 <3 I thought about posting earlier but I thought best to keep up our little tradition ^^ Please read the notes at the end for extra notes about TV’s future. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

Forty-eight hours

Hour One

A missed call shouldn't have been enough to raise an alarm, but his gut instantly told him something was wrong. And yet he tried his best to remain calm — stepped out onto the street and made his way to the bus stop where you should've been dropped off, glancing into convenience stores just in case, hopeful that the bus was just running a little late. But when the bus you would've taken showed up — allowing Eren some time to sigh in relief and shake his head at his own presumptions — and you were nowhere to be found among the few people to scatter onto the sidewalk, it only confirmed that previous gut feeling.

Hour Two

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

There's a stiffness to Eren's breathing that makes the process more painful than its intended effects — his lungs feel too big for his ribs, which seem to be pressing them against his heart, pushing his brain into hyperactivity to keep him from imploding.

Where does he even start? Where should he even go?

If there's a proper protocol to follow to find you, he's no idea of it and he's strangely aware that his anxiety might lead him in the wrong direction when there's so much he has to do — so many places he has to be — at once. It's infuriatingly difficult to not have a cool head when you really need it.

He didn't think to bring his car — perhaps it's for the best, considering his vision continues to blur and it's not a sign of good condition to hear your own frantic heartbeat pounding in your ears.

His eyes anxiously scan the faces of every person in his path. Paired with his dazed footing and the sick expression on his face revived every couple of minutes from the nausea stemming from some sort of sensed doom that he continuously swats away, there hasn't been a shortage of odd looks and aversions since he ventured into the dark streets in hopes to find you fine and well out of thin air.

It's been too long to dismiss as a casualty since his calls stopped going through, and yet he insists on redialing your number each time he's met with the automated message that only further fuels his dreadful symptoms, hopeful that your voice will reach his ears again, for that comforting sound to put an end to the infernal crescendo of his insides.

Just as he's about to redial once more, his phone starts buzzing first, and for a split second his body is at peace and his heart soothed in the spare moment that it takes for him to accept the call and bring the phone to his ear.

“Have you heard from her yet?”

The voice on the other end causes his stomach to plummet to his feet for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

It takes a moment for his brain to assimilate that it's not you on the other end and another for him to hate himself for not checking who was calling and stupidly spit a response to an Armin who has no fault in anything, especially for not being you.

Armin, as understanding as ever and assuming the more collected role for Eren's sake, dismisses the frustrated tone in his friend's voice, fully aware it's nothing personal.

“The security guard says she left a little over an hour ago and Mika called me a minute ago and said she hasn't been home. Are you sure she wasn't going to make any stops on the way?”

“No, Armin, she would've told me. She would've come here first or she would've at least texted me.” Eren's voice cracks. “Something is wrong.”

The weakness in Eren's voice is enough to fracture Armin's composure for a fraction of a second.

“Let's go to Levi.”

Hour Three

Being in the police station feels more reassuring than Eren would've imagined. At least this means he's doing something — and something right, at that — and the drive over spared him enough time to ease his nerves, even just a little, as he continued to repeat inwardly to himself that everything is going to be fine.

Time is everything and frankly, he can't help but feel a bit dumb for not thinking about getting some help from Levi in the first place. He'll find out what's going on — if there was an accident, if you got mugged and that's why no calls go through, or even if your bus broke down and that's why he hasn't seen you when he should have by now. Even if it turns out to be a misunderstanding, better to cause a scene than to sit on his hands. Though three hours without any sign to say otherwise can't be a misunderstanding.

Eren hunches over, resting his forehead on the edge of Levi's desk, not minding one bit as it digs a dent into his skin. His knee bounces every couple of minutes as he and Armin wait for Levi to get back to them.

“Eren Jaeger?”

He looks up to find a tall blond man instead of Levi.

“Yes?”

“I'm Captain Erwin Smith. Come this way please.”

Eren stands to follow the man's lead, only sparing a nervous glance to Armin, who replies with a comforting one from his seat, only morphing into a more accurate depiction of his worry once Eren turns his back to him.

“Where's Levi?”

Eren's eyes wander the barren space he's been led into. Nothing but a table and a pair of chairs set opposite of each other.

“He'll be here in a moment. I just want to ask you some more questions about the missing person's report you're filing.”

“Of course.”

Doing his best to hold in his exasperation at the ticking clock in his head, he dutifully replies to every question he's already answered for Levi when he first walked into the station — what made him come to the station, his relation to you, your description, what happened before he lost contact with you, amongst other basic things to paint a picture of the situation.

“Was there ever any trouble in your relationship?” Erwin asks.

Eren's brow furrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm asking if there was any indication that your girlfriend,” he makes a vague motion with his hands as he reads your name from the folder in his hands, “might’ve been upset with the relationship. Did you ever argue or have any trouble? Perhaps something in the past few days? Or ever?”

Eren hardens his jaw in an attempt to remain calm. He knew he'd have to spend a while at the station, answering questions more than once — as frustrating as the lengthy process could be, he expected that much.

Erwin's tone has remained neutral for the entirety of the questioning, and it's only natural to want to rule out any immediate suspects, but it doesn't make the implication of the captain's words any less offensive and borderline cruel.

“No,” Eren chokes out, horrified by the mere idea that either of you would walk away without warning. That isn't you.

“So no reason for her to break off contact with you.”

“She didn't break off contact,” Eren spits, growing heavily frustrated at the sudden turn of events. “We were supposed to meet, she was on her way already. I saw her just this morning and she called me first to tell me she was coming home.”

“Maybe she only said that to throw you off?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just tell me what you might think,” Erwin replies, voice stern. “You say it's only been three hours since you last heard from her but she's a mentally stable, healthy adult. Unless she has any conditions that could put herself or others in danger, chances are she's safe and sound somewhere and this is all a misunderstanding. Was there anything suspicious or weird about her?”

Eren's shake of his head grows more and more frustrated as Erwin does little to conceal his skepticism, which only shapes as a misunderstanding from Eren's increasingly impatient point of view.

“What's suspicious and weird is that she never made it to our date at all and it's been three hours and I haven't gotten a single word from her.”

Eren's expression is one of pleading, yet Erwin's remains neutral and made of marble.

“And it's not like that,” Eren murmurs. “I was going to ask her to live with me tonight. She called me after she left work to tell me she was on her way.” Eren can feel his heartbeat start to pick up as his ribcage begins to close in on his lungs once more as more anxious words continue to spill from his mouth in increasing pace and volume. “She told me she had news and that she loves me. Why would she tell me that if anything was wrong? Why would she say that if she wasn't going to make it to our date?” The crack in his voice comes at the same time as the stinging sensation behind his eyes and the uncomfortable tickle in his nose. “I was making dinner for us. I had this whole thing planned. I wanted to surprise her with all her favorite food and the pictures from the new apartment. I wasn't going to tell her about the pink bathtub because I want it to be a surprise when we move in. She…” He curls against the table, hands gripping his hair in frustration, pulling at the strands to make sure he still feels something because there are just too many sensations overwhelming him as he tries to get through to the man in front of him. “She really wants a pink bathtub.”

Eren doesn't lift his gaze, just remains quiet and unmoving until he catches a flicker of movement in front of him. It's only when he takes the tissue offered by Erwin that he becomes aware of the tears streaming down his face.

Levi nearly had a heart attack when he first caught eye of Eren's and Armin's familiar faces walking into the police station. The frantic green eyes and anxious expressions made it clear something awful had happened and hot flashes of searing dread burned inside his stomach. That is until nobody pronounced his niece's name. After that, the flame of pain withered to ashes of guilt, consuming him from the inside in such a manner that it was hard to face his niece's friends knowing he'd felt relief it wasn't his family who'd been affected tonight.

Levi's known Eren since he was a kid — a bit childish and whiny, but ultimately a decent man with a kind heart. It's been a pleasure watching him grow up and knowing he's remained a good friend to his niece.

Levi's only met you once. It was at Jean and Mikasa's engagement party earlier this year. If Jean and Mikasa were the happiest couple there, you and Eren were a close second. It was easy to know just how much he adored you, and how attached you were to him. Eren was rarely in a dark place, but next to you his smile was blinding.

After finding out Erwin conducted the interrogation to rule out a possible runaway case — and how he did it — he still hadn't ridden himself of enough guilt to apologize for making the situation more stressful, no matter what the rules say.

It's no secret some sudden disappearances hold more danger than others. An abducted child, an older person with dementia, a mentally and emotionally unstable person who's looking to cause harm to others or themselves — they demand a higher sense of urgency than logging the missing person into the system and following up when there's nothing more pressing on the police's plate.

The desperation consuming Eren's features when Levi finally walks into the interrogation room is enough to kick off his own instincts.

It's upon Levi's insistence that patrols are dispatched immediately.

Hour Five

When a loved one's safety is on the line, any efforts from authorities never seem to be enough and yet one remains oddly hopeful that the people with a proper protocol should know how to better handle situations that leave one frantic and lost.

Calls to the nearest hospitals, pings from cellphone towers, two patrols dispatched to the last known location and its surroundings, questions to potential witnesses who have nothing to report or are rather too invested to go back to whatever keeps their attention inside to provide some detailed tips, one patrol leaving because of a nearby break-in and the remaining one left with nothing more to go off of than one grainy clip of CCTV footage that shows your figure walking down the street, and a second clip from a convenience store's outside surveillance camera where you don't show up at all, but the lack of witnesses lead to nothing in between.

Keeping up the search when there's been nothing gained starts proving to be more difficult when obstacles continue to pile on. Aside from the growing boredom of those in police cars from the lack of fresh information to keep them motivated, the heavy clouds that hover over everyone's head threatens for the case to soon be abandoned for the night.

Hour Eight

Levi is hesitant to leave. But with no leads — no CCTV footage, no unknown numbers blinking on Eren's screen, no mother, an estranged father, no sign of a struggle at the last known location, and so much yet so little more — there isn't much he has to do than drive back with the pair of worried men to the station for more questioning in case of foul play, while constantly eyeing his notifications for any incoming messages on an assault victim found in an alley not too far away from where your phone was last still on.

Eren refuses to leave. Despite Levi's efforts to persuade him that going back to the station was necessary, knowing he was so close to where you'd last been was enough for Eren to stand his ground. Getting into Levi's car means going back miles worth of steps. It means straying from what feels so much like the right path already. And as ridiculous and futile as it is with no leads, it means losing his grip on something much more solid.

How easy it would be if a last known location means he can find you just by looking behind a tree or having someone point and say “yes, she's right there”.

So when Levi makes another plea for Eren to come back with him — he doesn't mention what for to not stir any more nerves — and Eren says no while steering himself down the block for what feels like his hundredth recon of the area — just in case you really were behind that tree in the small playground all along, playing a nasty prank on him — Levi chooses to go back to all the nearby twenty-four hour convenience stores one last time before the downpour begins.

Armin gives Levi a grateful nod before lightly jogging to catch up with Eren, who's already turning onto the next street.

“You can go,” Eren calls over his shoulder after catching a glimpse of his friend's blond hair beside him. “I'll keep looking by myself. Besides, it's gonna rain soon. You'll get wet.”

“What about you?” Armin looks down at his friend's bare arms. “You don't even have a jacket.”

Eren looks down at his sides, like he just noticed his lack of a coat. He could've sworn he had one on him when he walked out his apartment. You would've been upset with him otherwise, that small pout forming on your lips while your brows are weighed down with disappointment.

The instant of amusement he feels is quickly consumed by the ache of why he's out on the street with no jacket to begin with.

The food must be cold by now. He'll have to heat it all up once you're back home.

Light raindrops brush against his skin with a small gust of wind.

You're still not behind the tree.

It's nearly half past two in the morning. Any civilians with useful information have been asleep for hours, and any passers-by would've reported anything had they seen it, Armin thinks.

It's chilling to walk down streets so quiet and empty, with the only reminder that this isn't an alternate universe being the sparse cars that drive by. Surely the people inside might find it strange to see the pair walking up and down the streets, turning, looking, flashing their phones to make out shapes in the dark.

The tickle of rain on skin is no longer, but the temperature continues to drop.

Armin takes on one side of the street while Eren tackles the other. He receives a polite nod from the security guard of a small daycare center, who fails to conceal his look of pity. Levi interviewed him around an hour ago, so he has to know what's going on.

Armin averts his gaze, his cheeks burning at the thought of some stranger pitying him and his friend when everything is going to be just fine.

The rain starts up again. Eren isn't around anymore. With one quick scan of the street, Armin spots him rounding the corner to the next street — pace firm but anxious. He's quick to follow.

By the time Armin catches up, the raindrops have grown in size, a reliable sign that this time, it's for real.

“Eren,” Armin calls him carefully.

Eren continues walking, flashing a light behind a dumpster in a narrow alley between a family restaurant and a bookstore.

“Eren,” Armin calls him a bit more firmly to get his attention, but to no avail.

With brows knit more in desperation than concern, Armin quickens his pace and pulls Eren by the shoulder just before he rounds the corner to the next street.

“Eren!”

“What?”

The anger and volume in Eren's voice shrinks Armin in his place for a brief moment.

Embarrassed by his own reaction, Eren exhales an apology. But his face hardens once more when Armin suggests it's time to go home.

Armin steps back, surprised to have caught a swear word from his best friend among the words he spits back in a negative response.

But when Eren turns, ready to resume his search, Armin pulls at him again.

“Eren, stop!” he half-yells, quickly readjusting his volume before speaking again to not cause any disturbances to sleeping strangers.

“You don't want to pick a fight with me Armin, I'm warning you,” Eren's voice grows low, but still reaches Armin with the same anger and menace.

Eren harshly pulls away and continues to storm down the next street, leaving Armin to stumble behind.

The rain is heavy enough now to spot the pavement faster than it takes for each drop to dry.

“We need to go back, we aren't going to find her like this,” Armin calls after him. His hands do little to shield himself from the rain. Thankfully, Armin thought to bring a jacket along but it won't do much for either of them when it's bound to be sopping wet in just a few minutes.

Eren's shirt is already clinging to his skin in large patches down his back, and yet he continues walking with purpose down the street.

Armin's shivering now under his jacket as he looks around to gather his surroundings. This street isn't far from the office. It's poorly lit which, paired with the rain, is best explored in daylight. There's a single street lamp that's meant to illuminate the area at night, but it's been broken for months and either nobody has reported it, or laziness has kept it from being repaired.

“Come on,” Armin insists, lightly jogging now and losing his breath under the cold shower as he tries to keep up with Eren, who still refuses to listen. “We'll come back in the morning! You need to get some rest if you're going to keep looking! I'll come with you, okay? But we need to go!”

Armin suddenly crashes into Eren's chest as the latter abruptly turns around in a sudden fit of pure rage.

“I already told you I'm not fucking leaving!”

Armin stumbles back, teeth chattering, muscles drooping from his wet clothes and vision blurred by the heavy rain.

“You can leave if you want to! That's what the fucking police is doing! Just go already! But I'm staying because I care! I don't give a fuck about the rain, I'm going to find her!”

Eren's words pierce through Armin's chest, and the next moment he's tackling Eren to the ground. It's not so much to stop him from leaving this time, but out of indignation.

Eren falls on his ass with a wet thud, his palms painfully pounding onto the pavement as Armin falls on top of him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in his hands.

“You think I don't care? Why do you think I'm here, you idiot?” Armin yells in Eren's face. Had the pouring rain not been a factor, he would've been red in the face. But had the rain not been there, Eren also would've easily seen the tears streaming down Armin's face, and that would've taken away from his blue glare.

“She's my best friend! I'm just as worried about her as you are! You can't decide you're the only one affected by this! That only makes you a jerk and you're not!”

Eren is tense all over as he holds Armin's surprisingly threatening glare. His chest heaves as a twinge of guilt surges inside of him at his friend's pointed remarks. The stiff breathing makes its return.

“But we have to go,” Armin's voice softens — it cracks and begs.

And Eren breaks down in sobs. His scraped palms come to his face, aggressively digging the heels against his eyes as if to force his tears back in while his shoulders tremble in cold, grief and guilt.

“You don't understand!” he cries, his shirt still crumpled under Armin's grip. “I fucked up, Armin. This is all my fault!”

Unsure of how to react to this abrupt change in attitude, Armin remains frozen save for his teeth, which continue to chatter under the deafening rain.

“I was supposed to pick her up. I'm never late,” Eren hiccups. “But I didn't come today and now I don't know where she is! It was me, Armin! I did this! This is my fault!”

“Eren,” Armin murmurs gently, eyebrows upturned in sympathy as he finally softens his hold on his friend.

“I can't find her and I don't know if she's hurt or scared or if…,” Eren's words drown in another wave of sore sobs, his lips refusing to let the thought of the worst to escape as a spoken word — to think that someone might have caused you harm and that's what's kept you tonight.

“I need her to be okay,” he whimpers finally, lips trembling as his body begins to react to the harsh cold surrounding him. “Where is she, Armin?”

It takes a while for Armin to gather his thoughts and catch up to the workings of Eren's mind from this hellish night.

He often leaves the office with you, stays behind some evenings when he notices you're close to wrapping up your work and can ride the elevator together. Sometimes even accepts Eren's offer for a ride when he's too tired to deal with the overwhelming setting of public transportation — tired enough to not mind third-wheeling for a short while. If the last place your phone was turned on was before you even had a chance to take a bus, surely he could've done something to prevent this mess too. Why didn't he think to stay behind today, too?

“It's not your fault,” Armin finally says, his voice just barely audible amidst the rain and thunder. He blinks up from the ground to his friend. “And we don't know what happened. We'll try the hospitals again later, we'll keep calling her in the meantime. We have Levi helping us, right?”

Eren blinks back at him, slowly gathering that Armin is trying to encourage him through reassurances, and finally nods in response as he does his best to ignore the tight lump in his throat.

“It's like three in the morning, Eren. I'm not asking you to stop. But we can't keep going like this.” He motions vaguely toward the incessant rain from above and the wet clothes sticking to their skin.

Armin stands, relieving Eren from his weight as he pushes back his hair with one hand and offers the other to his friend whose reluctance casts a shadow over his usually bright features.

Eren trains his gaze on the ground, leaving Armin's helping hand hanging for the while longer it takes for him to convince himself that Armin is right and this doesn't mean he's failing you.

Finally, Eren accepts his friend's hand, who hoists him up just as they both spot Levi's car pulling into the street from the farthest corner.

Armin motions for Eren to follow him toward the car, to which he responds with a weak nod. But just a couple of steps in, something crunches and gets caught under his shoe. Naturally, he looks down, forgetting the deluge falling over him at the moment to frown at the foreign object.

Armin glances over his shoulder, sensing his absence, and turns around fully when he realizes Eren is kneeling on the ground, cautiously picking something from the ground that ultimately dangles from his fingers once it's fully suspended in the air.

Armin retraces his steps, kneeling next to his friend to find his face pallid, and green eyes wide with fear as he stares at the broken chain between his fingers, from which hangs an angel cast in silver with a broken wing.

His features contort in horrified realization. It's almost ridiculous to turn to Eren for confirmation of what he already knows and can already begin to imagine. But when he does, the latter is already hunched over in the opposite direction, emptying his stomach onto the wet pavement while the nearing lights from Levi's car come to blind him.

Hour Fifteen

Mikasa, Jean, and Sasha step into the elevator wordlessly, the only sounds on the way to Eren's floor being the inevitable rustles from the plastic bags with food in Mikasa's hands.

Jean offered to take them, but Mikasa insisted she'd hold onto them. Maybe it's because of her cold hands, but it might also be because she needs something to help keep her grounded — literally; she feels as though she might float away otherwise. Because if anyone were to ask her, nothing has felt real since last night after Armin's call.

The elevator’s hum ceases as it comes to a gentle stop and the doors slide open.

The same somber silence continues to hover between the trio as they mechanically walk down the hall to Eren's door. Jean takes out his copy of the key from his jeans pocket and pushes the door wide open, gesturing for the girls to enter first before quietly closing the door behind them.

Spare keys aren't rare between them. It was chain reaction that stemmed from Eren's father's passing. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay. The rest is history.

“In case of emergency.”

“Can you please water my plants while I'm gone?”

“Can you check something for me?”

“I'm really sick, just let yourself in.”

“Just keep it.”

Jean's copy has rarely been used. In fact, not many of them have made use of Eren's key once he started dating. Not that it's been a dramatic change, but now there's not much need to be wary of barging in on something they'll all laugh about later. And today, after Eren passed out on the street in the rain, it seems crucial to brush the dust off an old habit for their friend's sake.

The trio is careful not to make any excess noise — Eren might still be sleeping —, but the further they venture into the apartment, they realize their efforts are in vain.

They expected Eren to be lying on the sofa where Jean and Armin had so carefully helped him settle down, still fast asleep considering it's only been a few hours since. Although Eren's sudden nausea was a mere reaction to finding the necklace, Armin still spent a couple more hours watching over him as a precaution while he cleaned up the kitchen and dining area, and quietly left for his apartment to make another round of calls before work.

They're met with the view of their friend bustling around his work area in a corner of the living room, his brow furrowed and eyes laser focused as he refills the ink tanks on his printer. Stacks of missing person's posters cover his desk with a handful of faded ones having been scattered and crumpled on the floor as evidence of the ink shortage he's tending to. Your face occupies nearly the entirety of his immediate view, which is why a single glance is enough to distract him from his task that he doesn't notice his friends present in his apartment, nor when the ink begins to leak.

At the instinctive curse word that leaves him in a frustrated huff, Jean rushes over to help him.

“I'll handle this,” he assures Eren, who only blinks in surprise as he realizes he's not alone.

Mikasa and Sasha walk over to him unsure of whether a hug is appropriate as a greeting. In the end, they choose to speak the words instead.

Sasha leaves the conversation in exchange for helping Jean clean up the spilled ink. An irregular blob-shaped stain is left behind on the ash gray wood.

“Are you– How's your stomach?” Mikasa asks.

An uneasy grimace makes its way onto Eren's face.

“It's fine. It was just… Yeah.” He shrugs it off, unsure of how to properly explain the incident without triggering more discomfort.

Mikasa nods in understanding.

“Armin said you're going back to the police station later.”

Eren huffs at a humorless puff of air from his nose.

“Yeah. More questioning,” Eren replies, his head continuously shaking in disbelief, to which Mikasa frowns.

“What's wrong?”

It takes Eren a couple of tries to let the words out, his mouth opening and closing with hesitancy.

“They all left, Mika,” he softly murmurs, a hint of helplessness infecting his fragile voice, that births an ache in Mikasa's chest. “Nobody could say anything and they got bored. What kind of excuse is that?”

Mikasa drops her gaze to her shoes, submitting before the hurt and impotence Eren's words awake in her.

Then she shakes her head briefly, recalling a good thing.

“Levi's on the case… and there's evidence for foul play now, there's a lead,” she says, trying her hardest to appear more hopeful at each thing on her list. “He'll find her, Eren. This'll just be nothing but a bad memory soon.”

She smiles, but it comes out sad from the red that tints her waterline.

Eren doesn't have the energy to try to appear cheerful from her encouragement, and limits himself to a nod.

“Eren, how long have you been up?” Sasha asks with concern from his desk, where her eyes scan over his computer screen and the stacks of paper with your face printed front and center.

“A few hours?” Eren replies with a shrug, to which everyone else exchanges concerned glances.

Jean breaks the silence with a loud clap, refusing to make way for any awkwardness in the air.

“We brought you some food, buddy. Come on, let's eat.”

Sasha eagerly nods, her enthusiasm a bit too stiff it almost seems rehearsed, as she encourages him to follow them to the dining table.

Eren allows himself to be tugged along for a couple of steps before he tethers himself to his spot for a moment and then decidedly takes a step back under everyone's puzzled expressions.

“I'm not really hungry,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Mikasa gently asks.

“We got your favorite soup,” Jean smiles, though Eren is too busy staring at a blank point to notice. “Minestrone.”

“Extra parmesan,” Sasha adds.

“It's fine.” Eren assures them with a forced smile. “You guys eat. I have a lot of things to do.”

“Well, you can't do them on an empty stomach. Let's eat and then we'll go through your to-do list together,” Jean insists.

“Yeah,” Mikasa agrees, shooting a grateful smile to her fiancé. “Jean can drive you to the station after breakfast and Sasha and I can handle the rest.”

Every offer is sensible and comforting, but Eren still refuses. He can't eat, not when you still haven't come home.

“No…” his voice trembles ever so slightly as his eyes wander around the room, as if looking for an excuse. He ultimately makes his way back to his desk, where the stacks of posters await him. “I'll just head out now. I'm gonna hand some of these out before going to the station.”

The rejected trio exchange another round of anxious, meaningful looks. Mikasa's the first to break away from the group to join Eren in gathering a stack of flyers and a roll of tape from the black metal organizer on his desk.

As her hands roam around the surface of the ash gray wood, the jewel on her finger catches the sunlight peeking through the curtains.

Eren's movements grow slow as his focus is stolen by the silver engagement ring.

Mikasa notices the pause in his movements from the corner of her eye, and looks up at him to assess his status. Eren tears his gaze from her ring — embarrassed —, but not fast enough for it to go unnoticed, nor does he remember to ease his hardened jaw afterwards. He moves in silence and sets a fast pace toward the door, leaving an anguished Mikasa to trail at his heel.

Hour Twenty

It takes a handful of hours for Eren to get back home from the station, with a significant reduction to the baggage he left with. The stream of questions would've been fairly simple had he not been charged with so many uneasy feelings as to why he was doing all of it in the first place. It certainly didn't help that he had to face the same people who had simply left this morning. But he has to do things right — even if it means swallowing his anger to contribute with any useful information.

Social media presence, daily routines, bus routes, habits, friends, family situation.

Saying you know someone like the back of your hand is an odd saying, he thinks. He's not that vain to spend lengthy periods of time observing himself. In his case, it suffices to say he simply knows you — all he's done is look at you.

He knows your hands quite well. The shape of your fingers, the curves of your knuckles and the warmth of your palms when they latch onto his heartbeat and manipulate it to your will. And now what's been left since last night is a painful cavity. It's all wrong. Your hand should be here, filling his void.

The apartment is empty, Jean and Sasha long gone. The plastic bags have been folded into neat triangles and the counter has been cleared. Upon opening the fridge, Eren finds stacks of containers that have been added to those Armin helped put away the previous night from the uncelebrated dinner.

He stares at his packed fridge for a long time, any energy to step away vanishing into thin air and leaving him stuck in place, looking straight ahead until he no longer recognizes the shape of anything inside, and he grows numb at the cold air that slowly envelops him.

A ring from his pocket is what finally pulls him out of his daze and he's quick to whip the device out and accept the incoming call with pure urgency and no thought.

“I'm only assuming you've been too excited to call me to tell me how it went last night,” Carla's playfully accusing tone comes through the speaker.

“Mom,” Eren pronounces in a voice so soft, yet empty as he only acknowledges it's her, but any word that bounces off his tongue is devoid of meaning until he can speak the name he wants to.

“So,” Carla's enthusiastic grin is evident through the phone. “Was she thrilled? What did she say?”

Eren's voice fails him.

In all the anxiety and chaos, with all the things he's had to do within the last twenty hours, he completely forgot to tell his mother what had happened and that moment is catching up to him now.

His lips roll inwards, a habit reserved for when he's feeling shy because of things you say or do, and now has come back because of his lack of words — or rather the will to expel them.

His hand comes up to his hair, his fingers brushing his hair back as he struggles to find his voice.

It's only when Eren takes a second too long to reply that a shift in mood can be sensed from Carla's end of the line.

“Eren,” she calls him carefully, which only makes the lump in his throat grow. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“Mom,” is all Eren can muster, voice cracking as he pushes the word out.

“Did you have a fight? Is everything okay?” Carla's concern amplifies through the speaker, as something rustles in the background, a sign that she's taken on a more alert position.

“You didn't break up, did you?”

Out of all the things that could've gone wrong last night, Eren wishes that had been it. At least he wouldn't be as helpless. At least he'd know where you are. At least it's something he could reverse.

“No.”

The word comes out choked, his throat instantly sore for the second time.

His monosyllabic replies must be getting to her, because Carla takes a deep breath before trying again.

“Eren, honey. You have to speak clearly, okay?” Carla's voice grows gentle, as it always has whenever Eren would have trouble speaking his mind. Granted, that's been lost as he got older, but Carla's sweet attention hasn't. “What happened?”

Her patient voice finally manages to coax the lodged words from Eren's throat.

“I don't know where she is. She's missing.”

Hour Twenty-four

Rain is bad for detective work. Eren heard about it in a documentary or a podcast, or maybe he read it somewhere — he can't remember. But it supposedly washes away any evidence, making easy cases tricky and difficult cases nearly impossible. Considering the silver angel necklace was found in the midst of the sky falling, it comes as no surprise when he comes home from a casual meet up with Levi at a nearby coffee shop with the news that no DNA or signs of a struggle were found on site after a thorough search in the light of day. The other half of the broken angel wing was found stuck on the edge of a sewer grate, though. Eren would feel any comfort at all if it meant it would lead to something. But at least the necklace can be fixed for when he finds you and this is all over.

The necklace is pretty much a dead end, but it'll remain under the police's hold just in case.

Eren has never gone so long without seeing your face. Now that the clock has found its way back to the hour you were supposed to walk through his door, it's unbearable to know that you won't. And still he looks over in its direction every few minutes, expecting you to burst in and throw yourself into his embrace, marking the end to a day-long fever dream.

That's probably it. A dream. No, a nightmare. It's nothing but a wicked play of his subconscious — to teach him a lesson on appreciating you more. Maybe to scare him into doing a better job of protecting you. Maybe he's gotten too lax, too careless. After all, the city hasn't been terrorized by any violent crimes in the last few months. But that's no excuse to dismiss the possibility of danger. Right… There was a killer last year. Two murders. No suspects. No arrests. And there was a burglary just last night. So what if…

No.

Eren pulls at his hair, agitated by where his mind is leading him. He pulls hard on the strands, like they're the reins of his thoughts that he needs to redirect onto a less horrifying path.

His phone dings as if on cue with a text message.

I'll be there soon, honey. Get some rest, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.

A tap on the attached file opens up a copy of a plane ticket for the day after tomorrow under the name Carla Jaeger.

His heart feels a tad lighter.

It'll help to have his mother around for a few days. He types his gratitude into his phone and presses send.

He lets his face fall into his hands as he hunches over his desk.

Everything will be okay, he repeats to himself in his head like a mantra.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Everything will be okay.

Outside, rain starts to fall.

Hour Thirty

The rain has been on and off for hours.

By the time Eren reconnected with his surroundings, ready to go out and look for clues on his own around the area, the rain was nearly as heavy as it was at three in the morning.

He sits by the living room window, watching the downpour. His phone is charging on a wooden stool next to him, taking a break from another round of calls to nearby hospitals to ask for any patients bearing your name. Still no.

His stomach has been growling for a while, but any energy he possesses isn't the kind that'll get him off his chair and into the kitchen — it's the kind that's meant to be used to stare out the window and grow numb over any trivial needs.

It's fine, he thinks. It'll pass.

Hour Thirty-seven

All five of his friends come through the door a little past seven in the morning, with bags of fresh meals to share.

Eren sits down this time, allowing Mikasa to fix him a plate and Connie to pour him a glass of juice.

Nobody mentions the dark circles under his eyes, and Eren's gaze is too lost on a blank point to sense the meaningful glances exchanged all around him.

There's not much room for conversation. Any sense of normalcy is lost in the thick air. It seems equally wrong to create a lighthearted break for the length of a meal as it is to talk about the empty seat across from Eren when everyone is trying so hard to make sure he's at the very least feeding himself.

Eren merely pokes and stirs at his food with his fork the entire time. There's a fresh stack of flyers on his desk that demand more urgency in his eyes than sitting down to eat.

His demeanor is easy to read by everyone at the table, yet another round of concerned glances and subtle nods in his direction being tossed around with silent messages.

In the end, nobody says a thing and the groups is broken off in pairs to tackle the surrounding neighborhoods.

Hour Forty-five

Nobody has called. Not him or the station. As the only person outside of the police to be contacted for any updates, his phone should've rung at least once. But aside from yesterday's encounter with Levi and his visits to the station to see if his presence alone will bring something up, there's been a drought in leads. And despite his determination in making sure every person he passes knows anything, there's still nothing.

It's been hours since his stomach has demanded his attention. It's finally reached the point where it's so empty, it's gone numb. His body is running on nothing more than sheer will and water.

He should at least try to eat, test if he can hold any food down.

The fridge remains packed with food, even more now thanks to what's been gathered from his morning visits.

Ever so slowly, with overly cautious movements, he takes out a container, transports it to the counter and peels off the lid. It's from the dinner you were supposed to share two nights ago.

His lips tremble, eyebrows upturning for the split second it takes him to grasp back at his composure. An outsider would think he's glaring at his leftovers, disgusted at whatever is inside, completely misunderstanding the mental ordeal he's traversing as he takes several deep breaths.

He pulls out a stool from the breakfast bar, sits down and stares.

Hour Forty-eight

It's been two whole days since Eren has stepped foot in his own bedroom.

His feet drag him toward the bed without stopping to flip the light switch. Though the night is cloudy, signaling another shower for tonight, the moonlight still finds its way into the room just enough for his eyes to take in the most basic shapes of his furniture.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, and his gaze zeroes in on the neatly folded white cotton fabric set on the corner. It's the shirt you slept in two nights ago, the one that's the wrong size because it's his and he likes his clothes to be just a bit baggy.

It's the shirt he gently tugged off your body to feel your skin pressed against his. The one that you take care in folding even if you're in a rush and even though he'll throw it in the wash anyway.

His fingers slowly reach out to collect the fabric.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

It still smells like you. Just barely — a mere scrap of notes that have faded over the last two days. A mix of vanilla, citrus and a faint trace of eucalyptus fabric softener.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Breathe, Eren.

It doesn't work. The air is too thick. It gets caught in his throat and forces a choked sob on its way back out.

His face contorts in anguish as he falls onto the bed, curled up in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible, with your shirt clutched in his hands as the world outside darkens and he simply weeps.

Previous chapter | Next chapter (tba)

Minors and ageless blogs who interact will be blocked

Notes: Tunnel Vision will continue, just not with the same schedule it had before my hiatus. I’ll be adding word count and progress updates in the chapter guide in case you want to keep up with the story in that way (It’ll also give you an estimate of when the next chapter will be posted. I have ideas for some ficlets, which I’ll do my best to post in between TV updates just so I don’t leave you all hanging with Eren content. It’ll depend a lot on whether I see any enthusiasm for it or not though (aka comments and reblogs that aren’t… well… empty). In the meantime, thank you for the support and feel free to slip into my ask box to chat :)

Chapter guide | Masterlist | Navigation

taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop @okaystopwhore @bakuhoethotski @f4irygard3n @saybeyonce @indeedbooks15

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #eren jaeger x you #aot x y/n #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n

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garrethweasleyfest · 18 days

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The event is open to writers and artists who want to celebrate our one and only potions prodigy!

How do I enter?

Fill in this form to register as a writer or artist and submit your prompts for fellow creators! Signups will close on 21st September.

How long do I have to create something?

Signups will close on 22nd September. Creators will then have until 23rd of October to finish their piece, at which point all submissions should be posted to Tumblr using the #garrethweasleyfest #garrethweasleyfest24 hashtags!

What kind of content can I submit?

The fest will be prompt-based for both art and fics. When signing up you will be asked to submit three prompts for your fellow creators. This can be anything from a word to a scene. Full prompt rules are below the cut.

Where can I go for updates, ideas and to ask questions?

The fest will run primarily on Tumblr and is organised by @cuffmeinblack and @ellivenollivander who are happy to answer any questions!

There is also channel in the Weasley's Wizarding World discord for the event.

Full rules below 👇

General rules/FAQs

🦁 Participants must be able to be contacted by @cuffmeinblack or @ellivenollivander on Tumblr or Discord

🦁 Works should be posted on Tumblr with the fest hashtags but can link off to other websites e.g. ao3 or Poipiku

Content guidelines for creators

🦁 NSFW is welcome!

🦁 There are no restrictions on ships!

🦁 There are no specific topics that are banned, however we ask that creators tag their work accordingly, including all trigger warnings where appropriate. Topics include but are not limited to extreme violence/gore, non-con and dub-con.

🦁 There is no minimum or maximum word count for fics

Prompt guidelines

🦁 Each creator will be asked to give three prompts

🦁 You will not receive your own prompt

🦁 Prompts should not be too prescriptive or force certain ships, but they can either be vague or something more detailed, still allowing for creativity within the prompt

🦁 Examples include: 'modern!AU meet-cute', 'first time', 'fireworks'

🦁 Prompts should preferably not specify NSFW but at least one should be SFW

Full timeline

Signups and prompts: 7th-21st September

Prompts assigned: 22nd-23rd September

Creators work on their submissions: 23rd September - 22nd October

Submissions posted on Weasley Wednesday 23rd October

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #garrethweasleyfest #garrethweasleyfest24

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omaano · 25 days

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SW Hades AU August Update

Links and previous updates: May - June - July, everything else in this AU

In contrast to the July update, I didn't make as much progress in August as I'd intended, but all the same I'm quite happy with what I get to share with you here:

In the previous poll I only promised to get Echo and Fives to lines and flat colours by this (more than a bit belated) update, but thanks to @lesquatrechevrons keeping me company while I was working on them I managed to get the Domino Twins character art to a state of "almost finished". (I had posted them as "finished" but that was before I realized that I'd forgotten to add the little specks of neon colour to them, but oh well, I hate that stage anyway XD)

I also did some brainstorming with the amazing @elwinged about all the characters, as well as the various weapons and their aspects for this AU. They had some great theories and ideas, and also made me actively think about these things, which was real fun!

Before I go into some ramblings about what went into Echo and Fives' art and design (gotta pad this update with something, and some of you seemed to enjoy it with Omega last time), let's have another poll for next month! I've looked over my table of characters and plans, and I came to the delightful realization that I've made far better progress than how it feels on a day-to-day basis. So maybe it's time to work a bit on the boon-giver characters for a change:

Also would anyone be interested in a taglist for these updates, or are you all fine with me just putting these out whenever and let tumblr do its thing in getting them to you? (send me an ask or reply here if yes, I know my tumblr is a mess XD)

Now on to some thoughts on Echo and Fives:

Depicted but not illustrated in its fullest is that Rex has been a constant presence next to Echo and Fives (and to Cody, too, previous to that). It bears repeating that I really wanted to make sure that the clones are the same in size, and share as many colours as possible (so Cody also stood around as moral support when it came to Fives' hair). So you can also see how the shading on their faces are very similar in their shapes, except for the shadows in that part where nose, cheek and mouth meet, because I wanted to make the Dominoes look a bit younger.

Same with how Rex still has that wrinkle in his forehead that I oddly fixate on so much (don't ask), but Echo and Fives very clerly don't. I'll claim that it had been a completely conscious decision, and not just time passing between the two designs - well over half a year - during which I got it into my head that I should depict the clones during wartime as close to their barely-20-ish age as possible.

One thing I didn't commit to enough though (because I chickened out) was to make Fives look a bit more "dead" and ghostly before I put the blue-green soft light adjustment layer on him was the deeper and darker circles under his eyes, and I fully intended to leave out the light reflection from his eyes... but in the end I went back and added a duller shine to them because I'm weak, it's barely visible and he looked too grumpy and mean already T^T I also didn't want to make his cheeks more hollow or anything, because then I would just feel bad and weird about taking away the roundness from their shapes that I've worked so hard to put on them.

As I was working on this piece I've also thought a lot on the style that I've been trying to mimic through this project.

The thing that gave me pause is that I see more and more of my own style slipping into these pieces, I allow my lines to round out more... and I can claim that it is mostly because that's the compromise I can make with the clones, but I open up and look at Hades references less and less, and I just go freely with what's stuck in my brain while I'd tried to wrap my mind around the style when I first went at it.

I've also always had trouble with grouping my shadows and shapes, and this is exactly what I should be pushing more from now on forward. I keep letting myself get distracted by all the tiny details that I so enjoy to put into my work (case in point all that scarring on Echo, and even Fives' hair - as well as Cody's previously, but I didn't know how else to convey the texture of their hair in less and larger shapes). Hades character designs always feel so rich with detail, but at the same time they are a lot more streamlined than what I'd do if i let my own instincts and desires run wild. I'll try to work with that in the future!

Last but not least a few words on Echo's armor:

I'm slowly but surely stretching my artistic muscles a little and going a bit off-model for the characters, so I wanted Echo to wear armor that is a mix of his ARC and Bad Batch commando armor. So he's got the old plates on his arms (where he still has one LOL), all the straps and pouches (and both blasters!) and old kama hanging from his belt, as well as the hand print paint (because that is personally very very important to me that he has it). Then, beause I desperately needed some other colour in my characters that's not blue or black or grey, he's got elements of the red and orange paint he wears later in TBB (I really wanted him to have that orange stripe down the middle of his chest piece too, but I couldn't make it work with the handprint :() I'm real happy with this balance, and particularly with the shades of blue in his worn paint ^^

I also really wanted to give him a hand (I'll never not be frustrated at how Echo was kept literally handicapped with only his left hand to shoot and grab things (and people) with. It's good that he'd been an ARC and trained in dual wielding, but in a world where people keep losing their appendages (and sometimes half of their bodies) as if it was np big deal at all, it couldn't have been too difficult to get him a hand!! ANYWAYS. I'd first learned how to draw mechanical prosthetic hands/arms during my time in the Overwatch fandom, and I don't think I could draw them any other way (especially the fingers and the lights showing through in their joints) than how I'd done for Cole Cassidy way back when he still had a different name XD

I know there is a relatively limited way in how and what parts you can use to build up a hand/forearm, but I just cannot unsee it, and I thought I'd share this tidbit fun fact as well XD

I hope you enjoyed these ramblings, and I promise to try and keep to the normal mid-month-ish schedule for September!

#my art #hades au #hades au update #long post #domino twins #star wars #star wars fanart #tcw fanart #sw fanart #work in progress #artists on tumblr #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #I have the same imahe in this post twice so sue me :P #I meant to talk a bit about the stars and constellation element in their design as well but... I lost my steam and I just want to post this #I've been meaning to type this up last week but ugh.... I got very stressed and tired with other things so.... this is what it is #I hope you enjoy!

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sleepysnk · 2 years

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a/n: thank you @kxmisato for convincing me to make a pt. 2 of dirty secrets. i’m genuinely loving this, so it might be a mini series. who knows! but i hope you guys enjoy, tehe 😁🤍

pairings: hanma shuji x fem!reader

warnings: modern au, college au, nsfw, smut, hanma is reader’s older brothers best friend, mentions of alcohol, some possessiveness if you squint, dirty talk, praising, use of pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, good girl), kinda public sex, rough sex (?).

taste ft. hanma shuji

Your dirty secret.

Unlike some people, your dirty secret wasn’t something embarrassing. Everyone had at least one in their life, but it was the total opposite for you. Your dirty secret was that you were fucking your older brother’s best friend, Hanma.

For the past two months, the two of you had been seeing one another.

Hanma had kept up with you since the night you both hooked up at that frat party. He made sure to keep your agreement under wraps because of your brother. He wouldn’t exactly be thrilled with the fact that his younger sister was having sex with his own best friend. You two maintained secrecy for a while. Sometimes, you’d see Hanma at parties and give him that “look” to hint that you wanted him. He knew very well what that meant, and he’d make sure to fulfill any desire you had. Other times, he’d link up with you in the middle of the night and fuck your brains out in his car. It was a recurring pattern, but neither of you gave much care.

Despite your “thing” being strictly sexual, Hanma often took you out. He would take you to some pretty nice restaurants or pick you up to watch a movie at his place. He told you that as much as he was attracted to you physically, he adored your personality.

You and Hanma weren’t exactly aware of this, but some people had figured out the two of you were a thing.

Some of his very own friends had seen the two of you walking around town together. They were friends with your brother, but none of them had the balls to actually go and snitch. Hanma could be kind of intimidating and he’s even gotten into some fights where the guys were left stunned by the damage he’d leave behind. They didn’t want to meet the same fate, so they kept their mouths shut about it. However, it could be comical at times to see the lengths you’d both go to keep it private.

It was a surprise that your brother hadn’t figured it out.

Speaking of your brother, he was hosting his annual birthday party that day.

It was his twenty-first birthday, to be exact. He had been hyping up the party for the last few months, and, of course, he allowed you to come because you were his sister. He also wouldn’t hear the end of it if your parents found out, so he decided to save himself a few arguments.

All of his friends would be there, including Hanma. It was also going to be a pool party since his birthday was in the summertime. He was beyond excited to have everyone come over. You were happy to celebrate, but you were also excited to see Hanma. He had been non-stop messaging you about how he couldn’t wait to see you and how badly he missed your presence beside him in bed. The idea of seeing him shirtless in the pool made butterflies swarming inside your stomach. You saw him naked enough, but it never got old for you.

You didn't think the circumstances would lead to what happened the day of his birthday party, but it aligned perfectly.

A little while into the party, your brother began to complain that the alcohol had been running low. His main goal that night was to get blackout drunk to the point where he couldn’t stand, but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t have enough alcohol. His friends were also there too. They wanted to drink with him, so the only choice they had was to go out and grab more.

Your brother had announced to you that he was going to go out with his friends to get more drinks. You figured as much, so it wasn’t really that shocking.

However, what was most surprising was that Hanma had offered to stay behind.

He had explained to your brother that he’d stay back because he didn’t want to tag along. He claimed that he’d rather wait and it wasn’t a very far drive anyway. Your brother, of course, believed Hanma because this wasn’t the first time this had happened. They were also best friends, why would he not believe a word that came from his mouth?

Well, truth be told, Hanma wanted to stay behind for a different reason.

You.

You didn’t think things would unfold so fast. As soon as your brother departed with his friends, Hanma dragged you up the stairs to your bedroom. You wanted to resist him so badly. You knew your brother was bound to come back with the hour, but Hanma kept kissing you and touching you in places that made you melt. Your body completely betrayed you and gave into his touches.

Soon enough, you were lying against your mattress with Hanma’s cock bullying your walls.

It didn’t help that you looked so fucking sexy in your bikini. The black lace hugged your body nicely and showed off everything he wanted to see. He got so fucking pissed when he caught one of his friends staring at your ass as you walked by. He may have not known it, but you were Hanma’s. It took everything inside him to not sock his friend in the jaw. You drove him crazy.

He hovered over your body, tracing your waist and your hips with his fingertips. God, you were a fucking angel to him. He couldn’t have found a more perfect woman than you. “Fuck.. baby, you’re so fucking beautiful..” he groaned, squeezing your thighs with his hand. “Could fuck you like this for days and I’d never get tired..”

Your hands went into his hair, tugging at the curls on his head. Nobody else could fuck you like he did. He did everything perfectly when it came to you, and you couldn’t get enough of him. “H-Hanma! More.. please!” you begged, looking up at him with desperation swirling in your pretty eyes.

Hearing your voice made him smirk. He felt your pussy squeezing his cock. He fucking loved when you hugged him like that. “Yeah?” he asked. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make you feel really good..”

Hanma then used the hand with ‘Sin’ tattooed on the back to toy with your clit. His ego was stroked immediately when he saw you jolt instantly from the added pleasure. One perk of fucking you all of the time meant he learned what made your body go nuts. He picked up on everything faster than any subject he took in school. He took care of you so well.

You were his best friend’s little sister. You deserved all the princess treatment.

A sharp gasp pooled from your mouth at the double pleasure. His pace was absolutely relentless. You had already felt that coil in your belly appearing, and your vision turned slightly blurry every time his cock brushed against your g-spot.

He was about to keep up with his pace, but suddenly slowed down when you both heard the front door open downstairs. Panic began to flood through your body at the realization that your brother was now home with his friends. Neither of you were close to finishing, but you didn’t want your brother to catch you with Hanma. There’d be no proper way to explain this, and it’s not like he’d actually believe something wasn’t going on. Your brother wasn’t stupid.

Hanma felt somewhat nervous, but the idea of fucking you upstairs again only made him want to continue. The thrill of possibly being caught and having to shut you up drove him up the wall. Fuck, he wasn’t gonna get blue balls because of your brother. There was no way he’d let that happen.

Hanma’s hand went over your mouth as he slowly pumped himself into you. He could feel how shaky your breaths were from how he fucked you. “Shh.. keep quiet.. we don’t want your brother to hear us, right, doll? Don’t make a peep.. or I’ll stop right now.” he spoke into your ear. “Understand?”

You tugged at his wrist, signaling for him to remove his hand so you could speak. “Hanma.. you know I can’t keep quiet..” you whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He knew it was difficult to maintain silence in that kind of moment. You were also really close to your orgasm, and who was he to shut you up? He couldn’t do that to you, no. He was going to make sure he heard your voice when you came on his cock. He knew it was risky, but he had a plan in mind that might get that risk out of the way. It’s not like your brother would come up anytime soon. He just had to finish you off, and that’d be it.

Hanma reached over to his cell phone which was beside your bed on the table. He quickly pressed on Spotify and played one of the many songs he used to play in his car while he fucked you. He turned up the volume nice and loud so it could prevent anyone from possibly hearing you.

He started to pick up his pace now that the music was playing. “How about now..?” he inquired. “You know how much I love hearing your pretty voice when you cum..”

Whimpers and whines began to fall from your lips from his thrusts. The familiar feeling of his cock reaching that delicious spot inside of you soon returned, making you feel such great ecstasy. You couldn’t hold in your moans anymore. It was too much for you to handle.

“Hanma! Oh, god, Hanma! Right there!” you cried, placing your arms around his neck.

Hanma placed your thighs around his waist, gaining a greater access to your cunt. He took the open opportunity to give you a deep kiss. His tongue darted inside of your mouth instantly, swallowing any moans that escaped your throat. You, on the other hand, struggled to kiss him back from how great the pleasure was. Your bottom lip trembled and paused at every move of his hips. Fuck, you were losing your damn mind and right now.

He then pulled away from your lips. He stared at you with lust-filled eyes. “Tell me you’re mine..” he grunted. “Fuck, say it.. now..”

Your mouth fell ajar from his request, but nonetheless, you wanted to fulfill it. “I-I’m yours, Hanma!” you moaned.

“That’s right.. fuck! You’re my good girl, (Y/N).” his pace then quickened, allowing his balls to slap against your sensitive clit. “All mine..”

The knot in your stomach threatened to snap at any second. There was so much going on around you it became almost overwhelming. Your brain had become foggy, your eyes saw white stars, and your body was shining with sweat. It was coming, and it was going to come hard. His dirty talk was only winding you up more. Hanma Shuji was fucking perfect, and you were perfect for him.

Hanma felt your walls slowly closing in around him. He knew your orgasm was close. He was going to give you the best one ever. You were his pretty princess. He wasn’t going to deny you a single damn thing.

“Come on, babydoll, cum around my fucking dick..” he cooed. “Don’t disappoint me, princess..”

Suddenly, your orgasm washed over you. “Hanma!” you screamed, your body trembling from how hard it hit you.

Hanma grinned so hard when he heard his name fall from your lips. Your gorgeous face looked amazing while you came. Your lips were glossy and so fucking pretty. He could kiss them for hours if he really wanted to. “Yeah.. that’s my girl..” he said, trailing his hands down your body.

“What the fuck?”

A familiar voice rang inside your ears. Hanma turned his head to meet your older brother standing right in the doorway of your bedroom. He quickly went to cover you, making sure that he didn’t possibly see you naked. He could see the embarrassment cover your features the second you realized he was standing there, watching as Hanma shielded your body with his own.

“Seems like the secret is out now, huh, doll?”

#summer speaks #smutty talks #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #hanma #hanma shuji #hanma shuji smut #hanma shuji x y/n #hanma shuji x you #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x you #hanma x reader #hanma x y/n #anime fanfiction #anime fanfic

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marvelous-llama · 7 months

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NCT recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

death of peace of mind by @slightlymore

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 19k) enemies to lovers, soulmate AU, magic, industrial revolution setting - angst, smut, fluff(ish) The Train. That's where your parents met a few years before you were born and that's where your grandparents met as well as their parents before that.Oh to be grown and travel on the Train as well, meeting your soulmate and falling so madly in love that you'd become consumed by it. And there you were years later, your only travel case in your hand and your best dress on, standing in the Train Station at exactly 1:05am on the 1st of May. You looked up and let the night sky calm you down and when you looked back in front of you, the train was there. What were you supposed to do now? But then one door opened, engulfing you with the freshest flowery scent. The most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life descended and tilted his hat lifting one gloved hand to guide you inside. "Welcome aboard, Miss."

body language by @badalivie

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 3.1k) friends to lovers - angst, fluff, suggestive(ish) You and Donghyuck have been dance partners for the past 6 years. When he gets into an accident that costs him a competition and substitutes himself with another dancer, he realizes he’s not so open at all to having you dance with someone else, especially having their hands in the places he considered his.

round & round by @hwaflms

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 6.1k) friends to lovers - fluff, smut

Stupid Cupid by @kdyism

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 5.3k) friends to lovers, university AU - angst(ish), fluff after being victim to jaemin’s cupid-ing last christmas, lee donghyuck has to figure out whether he wants to give up on you or go for it while risking the comfort of your friendship because he think you don’t remember last christmas.

The Storm by @crdteezv

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 7k) frenemies to lovers, university AU - angst, fluff, smut You and Haechan were constantly at odds, never seeing eye to eye. His persistent flirting was really starting to get on your nerves. Now, with a bad storm raging outside and nowhere for him to stay, he's wondering if he could spend the night with you…

who needs cupid´s bow? by @lisired

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 11.1k) best friends to lovers, mutual pining - fluff, angst(ish), suggestive Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.

two "rules" one problem by @liliansun

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 14.8k) ex-chilhood friends to lovers, fake dating, university AU - fluff, angst despite your history, you and haechan couldn’t stand each other. that is till you’re paired up for a project and he’s just desperate enough for your help with his love life with the acception of his stupid rules

happy new year by @lotsoflola

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 5.1k) ons, idol!Hyuck - smut when a stranger asks to share your first kiss of the new year, you allow yourself to have some fun, just for the night...

series

Free Trial Wedding Style & First Anniversary by @liliansun

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 10.6k + 7.7k) fake dating AU, neighbours to lovers - fluff, crack, angst when a random, cute, guy comes up to you and practically asks for you to follow along, you do so without much thought. that is until you get home and see he’s your new neighbor who just might need your help a little more than you expected.

getting even by @ofjunemoment

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 11.6k + 19k) strangers > friends > lovers, university AU, slowburn - angst, fluff, smut Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank. part 1, part 2

pussy fiend by @domjaehyun

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 28.2k + 40.7k) university AU, enemies > fwb > lovers, roommates to lovers - angst, fluff, smut uhhh he likes you and is a fiend for pussy idk bestie part 1, part 2

spur of the moment by @haetrack

Donghyuck x fem!reader (wc - 2.1k + 10k) university AU, strangers to lovers - fluff, smut part 1, part 2

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #nct x reader #nct smut #nct recs #nct 127 recs #nct dream recs #haechan #nct haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader #nct haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #haechan smut

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avocado-writing · 8 months

Note

Ohhhh my lord I would DIE for some sort of AU where Astarion had a lover/partner before he was turned by Cazador???

And maybe he finds you visiting his grave after being freed from the tadpole or something and mentally debating whether to go to you or stay hidden bc he’s insecure about being a vampire?

Idk I’ve just been thinking about this randomly and the angst would be so goooood

Love Love Love your work Avo 💚💚💚

notes: sorry for this I swear I’ll write something happy next.

pairing: astarion x reader.

warnings: hurt, no comfort

rating: T

He dies and leaves you broken.

At least, you think he does. There is no way for him to come to you through those first few years, when Cazador keeps him imprisoned alone and half-crazed with starvation, sucking the innards out of rats until their desiccated husks are his only company. Eventually he manages to endear himself to his master enough that he is allowed out of the palace, though that is only to bring food back in the form of the unsuspecting nobles of Baldur’s Gate.

It is a miserable existence. He hates his body, hates himself, and as Cazador forces him to seduce people back, using his own beauty as bait, the soft nights he spent with you are all that keeps him sane.

Your memory is a light in the darkness of his new life.

On the fifth anniversary of his death, the first chance he has since he was turned, he cannot help but go and visit his grave. Call him maudlin, but he wonders if it has yet fallen into disrepair. As a magistrate he was hardly the most popular man in the city, and now everyone thinks he’s long gone…

He does not find it empty. He finds a sobbing figure next to the headstone.

You are just as lovely as he remembers, though your face is stained with tears. You grieve as if he died yesterday and not several years past. Your fingers carefully caress the engraving of his name, the way you used to trace them over his cheekbones, his lips.

It is a punch to the gut.

“Why did you have to leave me…” you choke, gripping the grass so hard you tear it from the ground.

He wants to hold you in his arms. To tell you that he is here, that death didn’t take him. He wants to remember what it feels like to touch you, really touch you, not just live by an echo of it in his memory.

But he can’t, because he is a monster. A creature which belongs to the night. You would not want him now, would you? You’re a thing of beating blood and soft flesh and breathed air and life. He simply cannot anchor you to this thing which he has become and drag you down too.

That would just kill him all over again.

Wordlessly, he leaves you to mourn.

He comes back every year, to that little corner of the graveyard. You still cry but as time moves on, it is less, and eventually you make it through a whole visit without shedding a tear. You wax poetic about your favourite memories of him: quiet meals spent together, days when you never left bed, private in-jokes he thinks you would have forgotten by now. He listens to you talk from the shadows.

It is the one thing he has to look forward to all year.

Then you start bringing company.

Your partner holds your hand tightly, and Astarion seethes from the darkness as you tell them about all him, about the pale elf you used to love. They listen as you fondly recount stories of your time together, and Astarion is torn: you no longer sound hurt like you once did, like the grief is a constant companion as you stumble on through life; but he is bitter. You were his. And now your hand easily links through the fingers of another.

He considers attacking you both. Biting you, trying to turn you. Killing your new paramour and having their bastard blood quench his unholy thirst.

But then you laugh, really laugh, tipping your head back in mirth at something they said, and leaning up against them. The way you used to with him.

How can a dead heart break?

He leaves.

The next year, when the two of you visit, you have matching rings on your fingers.

The year after that, you do not come to his grave at all. He wonders if you have finally forgotten about him. He tries to swallow this fact and move on, but what does he have to move on to? More misery. More loneliness. More Cazador.

The year after he finds you there, once again, and he feels the first twinge of joy in gods know how long –

“We had a baby, Astarion,” you say to the cold stone in front of you, carefully clearing off the moss which has attempted to take it over. “A little boy. He’s so precious… I know you never really liked children, but I hope you’d be pleased for me. I miss you, my darling, but I’m finally happy.”

He never visits his grave again.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate@dhampling

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fic #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin x reader #My writing #Request

115 notes · View notes

butchcarmy · 6 months

Text

ALEXITHYMIA CH 4: piccata, bills, and ghosts

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 5

Chapter Rating: T (9.1k)

Chapter Summary: Carmy realizes that this is what joy looks like, and when he looks that truth in the eyes, he finds himself blissfully unafraid. Their company is an indulgence he's finally allowing himself to have in its entirety, and it's beautiful. The world is both unfolding and combining, all for him, all because of them.

Tags: carmy being mentally ill, panic attacks, happy carmy, silly carmy, physical touch

A/N: Here's our fluffiest (and longest) chapter yet! But the hurt/comfort is also on full blast this chapter…This one really has it all. You'll see what I mean. Here's the also start of Act 2, in which Carmy is gonna be realizing…and he won't stop realizing…until he realizes it all. Also I am taking creative liberties with how family actually works. Enjoy!

It doesn’t always stay the same.

When Carmy looks in the bathroom mirror this morning, he feels as tired as he looks. Exhaustion resides in his dark eyebags and temperamental curly flyways. The fire from last night had interrupted the little sleep he was able to snag. Despite all the weariness, though, there’s something different about today.

He’s used to a blazing fire in his brain, constant in its sweltering heat and pain, but today, the fire lays low. There’s actually room in his head for quiet, for silence to exist. It’s not the dissociative emptiness he’s used to. He thinks he can only describe it as peace.

The thought almost makes him laugh with how ludicrous it is. Peace and him don’t typically mesh.

He remembers the fire last night, crackling in the containers of pots and pans before billowing upwards. He imagines a different outcome, instead pondering a future where his apartment burned down. Where their apartment burned down, and in this alternate reality, he stands in the ashes, unsurprised that he’s destroyed yet another good thing in his life. Then the grief of him realizing that it was the only good thing left in his life destroys him.

But when he looks at their toothbrush next to his, their shared crinkled tube of toothpaste, he comes back down.

He doesn’t know how he managed to keep them. Somehow, they’re here to stay, and they’re going to be at The Beef for family in half an hour.

“Corner,” he shouts, breezing through the kitchen with a container and shallots and garlic. He still needs to finish mincing them for family this afternoon—lemon chicken piccata. At least he’s prepped the rest of the ingredients already, along with the plates and utensils.

The peace in the morning was momentary, because of course it was. There’s a tangled yarn ball of anxiety knotting itself over and over inside him at the thought of them having family with him and everyone else. He pondered on his commute this morning if inviting them was the right thing. If it was an overstep, either with them or at The Beef, but then he remembers the way their face lit up when he asked, and the anxiety grows quiet. Well, quieter.

And as it grows quiet, it opens up the space for his excitement to be the loudest voice in his head.

“Lemon chicken piccata?” Sydney observes the prepped chicken, lemons, capers. As she looks, her fingers fiddle with the small golden hoops in her ear.

“Yeah. Thought this’d be a good way to have everyone try it again, get a better feel for it.” He cuts the shallot into thin slices before cutting into them again, mincing it into tiny pieces. He notes a distinctly ugly slice of shallot and tosses it. This dish needs to be perfect.

“Heard.” Sydney traces a finger over the edges of the stacked plates before stopping. “Uh, chef, I think you got an extra plate here.”

Carmy stops, looks up from the cutting board. Quickly counts the plates again. Looks back down.

“No, I got it,” he reassures her. When she raises an eyebrow at him, he adds, “I, uh, invited someone. My…roommate.”

“Oh.” Sydney doesn’t even try to hide the surprise on her face, or maybe she’s just so shocked she couldn’t. “That’s—that’s great!”

“Sorry I didn’t, um, give a heads up. Or something. Uh…” He pauses, looking at her, trying to search for more words.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just surprised.” She shakes her head, seemingly to herself. “But now that you mention it, yeah, a heads up next time could be cool.”

“Next time,” Carmy promises with a nod. Next time, he thinks wistfully to himself. Maybe there could be a next time.

“So…I’m guessing no one else knows that you invited someone,” Sydney says, harmlessly, just as Tina and Marcus decide to come back into the kitchen.

“Carmy invited someone?” Marcus makes his way back into the kitchen, a sack of flour in one hand and a tin of cocoa powder in the other. They slam onto the counter at the baking station, resounding with a dull thud. “Lemme guess. Is it the roommate?”

“It's the roommate,” Carmy confirms, before anyone else can get a word in. Now, onto mincing the garlic.

“Jeff!” Tina exclaims, aghast. “Why didn't you say something earlier?” She’s walking some extra vegetables to her station to prep. “Way to surprise us!”

“Who’s surprising us? With what?” Carmy raises his head, and when he sees who's just come back through the front entrance, he lowers his head with an aggravated sigh. Richie. The last thing he needs right now.

“Carmy's bringing a date to family,” Tina tattles helpfully. Although Carmy begrudgingly acknowledges that he would've had to bring it up eventually.

“Not a date, just my roommate,” he mutters. Not that anyone's listening.

“Carmen, Carmen, Carmen.” Richie makes a drama production of swinging the door open into the kitchen, stepping through it with arms outstretched. An overpowering scent of pine cologne accompanies him. “So you do listen to your cousin when he talks, huh?”

“I have no idea what he's talking about,” Carmy tells Sydney, who just shrugs.

“I'm proud of you, cousin. Really proud.” Richie slaps him way too hard on the back, jerking Carmy forward.

“Don't do that when I'm using a knife, you asshole!” Carmy snaps, elbowing Richie out of the way. “Stupid fuckin’ idiot.”

“Jesus, fine, fine, I'll get out of your way!” Getting cursed at did little to deter Richie's smug demeanor. “Fuckin’ princess. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the back.”

“We won't,” Carmy says, and Richie flips him off as he walks away.

“Carmy's bringing his roommate, who he is not dating, to family,” Marcus projects to the rest of the kitchen, and Carmy resists a groan.

“It’s not a big deal.” Carmy slams his knife onto another clove of garlic, crushing it. “I don't see why you guys have to make such a fuss about it.”

“Because it's fun,” Marcus replies with a broad grin. “Sorry, chef.”

“Let us have our fun. We never get to poke fun at you,” Tina says.

“That is just not true,” Carmy groans, and everyone’s laugh resounds into a mismatched chorus.

They tease him relentlessly for a couple more minutes until it dissolves into sparse chatter, for which Carmy is grateful. Peaceful lulls in the kitchen are rare, especially in this particular one. He takes it while he can get it, honing in, oiling the pan, pressing the chicken into the bubbling surface until it's golden. The others gradually filter out as he cooks, leaving him to cook on his own.

Then comes the familiar chime of the front door.

Carmy turns the stove off, takes the pan off the heat to check to see who it is. Surely enough, it’s the guest of honor.

“Hey Carmy!” They’re looking cute as ever today, maybe even a bit more dressed up than usual. Part of Carmy thinks that maybe they dressed up for him, and another part of Carmy strangles the other one to death. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Hey, you’re fine. I’m just about to finish up.” He guides them into the kitchen with him.

“Smells incredible in here,” they comment. “Also, before I forget. Is there somewhere I could put my coat? Break room or somethin?”

“Yeah, we can put it in my office.”

Upon entering, Carmy becomes acutely aware of exactly how messy his office is. It's not like he didn't know. He created the mess, after all, but having someone new bear witness to his stacks of papers and stuffed file folders is…embarrassing, to put it plainly. To Carmy's benefit and luck, though, they're much too polite of a person to comment.

“So this is where you're holed up.” Their head turns to look at all the posters and papers hung up on the wall, still largely unchanged from Michael's time.

“Yep. It's all bookkeeping, along with more bookkeeping,” he informs dryly. “Here, you can hang that on my chair.”

“Thanks.” They drape their jacket on the back of his chair, and Carmy is suddenly struck with the impression that it feels odd to see it there. “Oh!” They exclaim, looking at something on his desk.

He follows their gaze to the papaya pills and ginger candies sitting in the corner.

“Ah, yeah.” Why does he feel embarrassed? “I really need to thank you again for that.”

“No need, but I’ll take it. I hope they actually helped.”

“They did. I actually, uh…” He digs around in his apron pocket and fishes out a candy. “I’ve been keeping them on me.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” They beam at him, visibly brightening. It’s infectious, and he feels himself smiling a little back.

A period of silence falls between them. This sort of thing keeps happening as recent. It leaves them looking at one another, and it should be awkward. Yet it’s not. It’s strange and peaceful, and then because Carmy is Carmy, his heart starts squeezing and telling him he needs to get out of here.

“Did you sleep alright? After, uh, last night.” He’s not sure why he’s asking that now.

“Yeah, I was fine. You?”

“Okay,” he replies instinctually. “Sorta,” he amends. “I’m doin’ better.”

“That’s good. Better is good.”

“Yeah.” He exhales out his nose, runs a hand through his hair.

There’s the muffled sound of laughter in the distance, and it reminds Carmy that they’re not quite alone. That he still has dishes he needs to finish cooking.

“I need to finish back in the kitchen. Let me show you where we’re sitting.”

Minus a few faces, everyone’s already seated at the table for family. There’s some idle chatter floating in the air, but it drops to the floor as soon as Carmy enters. Makes him feel like a deer in headlights.

“Everyone, this is my, uh—“ Something in Carmy’s brain buffers. “My friend,” he finally decides. He introduces them to the four that're seated already, those of which being Sydney, Marcus, Tina, and Ebra. There’s a mix of enthusiastic hellos and simple nods in response. He turns back to his roommate—friend—whatever—and they’re waving back. “I'll be back soon. Sit wherever you want.”

“Sure thing,” they reply easily, and it makes Carmy feel a little less guilty about abandoning them.

To his credit, he does try to finish cooking quickly. All he had left was the sauce, and he already prepped all the ingredients. Between the aromatic browned onions, emulsifying the sauce with wine, and dousing the chicken in it, he couldn't have taken more than 15 minutes.

He wasn't sure what to expect upon returning. The worst possible scenario would be complete silence. Or screaming, but that was unlikely. On his walk there, though, plates in hand, he hears pleasant chatter.

“The coffee down the street is overpriced,” Carmy hears his roommate saying. There’s a murmur of agreement. When he walks in, he sees all the seats at the table are full. “Don’t get me wrong, it's not bad, but you'd get coffee just as good one block down the other way at—”

“At Ironclad?” Marcus guesses hopefully, leaning in.

“At Ironclad,” they confirm, and there's a mix of cheers and boos.

“Grit is better,” Sydney challenges. “More espresso bean options.”

“You make a compelling point,” they reply. “A latte for $4 though? In this economy? Just try and beat that.”

“It's less at 7-Eleven,” Richie chimes in, and everyone boos. “It's one of the pillars of the working class! Admit it!”

They're not like him, Carmy remembers. They're actually socially competent, and they can do well for themself in a group of strangers. Seemingly with little effort, they’ve already assimilated themself.

“Family's up,” Carmy announces, sliding plates into the table. “Lemon chicken piccata and caramelized rosemary potatoes.”

“Jeff, didn't you show us this last week?” Tina asks. She leans in to waft the savory smell towards her nose, and she hums in approval.

“Yeah, I did. I just thought it'd be good to make it for you guys.” He finishes getting the rest of the plates from the kitchen, making sure everyone has a plate of food in front of them. He can tell who's started eating by the pleased expressions on their faces. Other than the fact that their food has a dent in it, of course.

“Carmy. This is on fire,” Ebra praises, nodding in approval towards him.

“Ebra, it's ‘this is fire’, not ‘this is on fire’,” Gary corrects, amused. “But I agree.”

“Good, good,” Carmy says. He settles into his seat at the front of the table, which is…weird, actually. He doesn't remember the last time he's actually sat and had family with everyone.

“Actually eating with us for once, Carmen?” Richie points out. He says it like a jab, because that's always how he speaks, but it lacks the fight that it usually does. Carmy can hear what he's really expressing—I'm glad you're joining us.

“I am,” Carmy responds evenly. He feels his roommate's curious gaze to his right, but they don't say anything. That's when he notices that they haven't started eating yet. His mind supplies a million different reasons at once. None of them sound sane, so they'll go unspoken. “Not hungry?” he asks instead.

“No, I just wanted to wait until you were here.” They say it like it's not a big deal. “I always did it with my family growing up. Just a habit, I guess.” Now that they're saying it, some of Carmy's memories start to make more sense. He suddenly remembers sitting with them at home, and he had to take a call right before they were about to start their dinner. When he came back, their food was still untouched. He didn't think much of it then, but now…

“Oh, cool. That's…” In the time he's searching for a word, they've taken a bite. “How is it?” He asks instead.

“Fuck.” They're shaking their head like something's wrong, but it's obvious from the gigantic smile on their face that it's anything but. “Carmy. Carmy. You're crazy.”

“Am I, now?” He knows he's probably got a stupid expression on his face.

“So crazy. This is incredible.” They slice themself another piece of chicken. “These capers too, man. You actually made me like capers.”

“The capers made you like capers,” Carmy jokes, and they snort.

“No, that's severely underplaying your part in all this. Seriously, this is delicious.” They always get this glowing smile when they're eating good food. He's witnessed it in their shared kitchen, whether it's food from their mutually favorite joint or their own two hands. He's never seen them smile like this, though. It's a joy that's possibly unique to Carmy's own cooking.

Carmy doesn't know how to handle that. Not even a little bit.

“Glad to hear it,” he says instead, ignoring the fullness in his heart, and he starts eating.

“I’mma start this week,” Marcus begins. “I'm grateful for the fact that my roommate Chester actually managed not to spoil the episode I missed of this show we’re watching this past week. He’s still a jackass, though.”

“You can say it’s The Bachelor, we all already know,” Sydney teases. Marcus huffs, but he’s smiling.

“Just for that, you’re goin’ now,” he replies, motioning towards her with a fork.

“Sure, sure. Yeah, um, I’m grateful for my dad’s good health.” Sydney shrugs, nonchalant when there’s a group of “aww”s. “I am! He had this, ugh, awful case of bronchitis, but he's good now. It was scary. Tina?”

“Hm…” Tina chews thoughtfully as she thinks. “Oh! My dumbass son actually passed his finals. Even with some A’s!” She claps her hands excitedly and clasps them to rest under her chin. That gets a variety of cheers. “If he actually tries, he can be so smart. But not without stressing me the fuck out first. What about you, Rich?”

“Easy. I found that pine cologne that Marcus hates,” Richie says, smug.

“I noticed,” Marcus replies mildly. “Everyone hates it, by the way.”

“I smell like the fuckin’ forest! It's majestic as shit.” Richie makes a show of sniffing his shirt amongst all the booing mixed with laughter. That's when he looks to Carmy’s roommate, who's been politely listening and eating. “You wanna have a go of it, guest of honor?”

“Oh, sure. Something I'm grateful for, right?” They put down their utensils and thoughtfully rub their index finger across their chin. “Well…I’m feeling pretty grateful to be eating this delicious food. It's not often I get to eat food this good.” It's not that good, Carmy wants to say to combat the fluttering in his stomach, but it's far too contradictory. He made sure to make it good since they were going to be eating it. “How about you, Carmy?”

“Huh?” Carmy's been on autopilot, comfortable to watch everyone else. He's not much of a participant. Now everyone's got their eyes on him. “I'm grateful for, uh…”

I'm grateful for that smile you get when you eat my cooking, he wants to say. I'm grateful to have someone like you.

“I'm grateful to be in good company,” Carmy says. That receives a round of hearty reactions, including a look from his roommate that he can only describe as affectionate. He pointedly looks back down at his half-eaten plate when he feels his ears getting warm.

“Aw, you softie,” Richie snickers. “What, are we embarrassin’ you?”

“Shut it,” he mutters, but there's barely any heat behind it. His reaction only creates more laughter around the table. “Ebra, you go next.”

Little does Richie know what he's really embarrassed about. Everyone's teasing isn't helping, sure, but it's not his fellow chefs, it's them. It's their stupid smile that he keeps looking back at. It's that he knows it's from the food he made for them, it's that he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings taking up residence in his heart.

Between the energetic chatter and the cleaned off plates, Carmy realizes that a part of what he's feeling is happiness. It's an odd sensation, which says a lot about the type of person that he is. It's the truth, though. He's just cooked a good meal for people he cares a lot about, and the happiness that has come with that is weird.

Not bad weird, though. Good weird.

If anyone noticed how strange he looked smiling with a fork in his mouth, they didn't mention it.

Family goes by faster than Carmy is used to. That's what happens when you actually join in for once, he supposes. He just wasn't expecting it to wrap up so quickly. Or, it's more accurate to say he didn't want to see them go already.

“Guess you guys have to get ready for service now, right?” They've returned to his office to grab their jacket, giving the two of them a brief moment of privacy.

“Yeah. Service starts at 3.” He sighs, and they sympathetically return his sigh.

“Right. Well, I really enjoyed eating with everyone. And the food? Seriously, it was so good. You knocked it out of the park. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you’re seriously incredible at what you do.”

“I don’t hear that so much anymore,” he admits. “Not like I used to. Um…” He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m just glad you enjoyed it. I should really cook more outside of this place. Maybe cook for us in our kitchen for once.”

“You know I’m here for that. I could have your cooking any time,” they gush, like it doesn’t make Carmy’s heart palpitate. “I get it, through. You spend all day cooking here, I get that you don’t wanna come home and cook.”

“Yeah, but…it's different.” It's different because it’s for you, he wants to say, but as expected, he doesn’t.

“W-What?” Suddenly, their cheeks go pink. “Well, if you put it like that…”

“...” The realization buffers in his head before fully forming. He actually said that aloud after all. Too late to take it back. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I just think, I should give you a break from making leftovers for the week,” he stutters in a weak attempt to cover his accidental affection. “And, um, I just want to, because I…”

“Because…?” He’s taking way too fucking long to finish this sentence. Their face doesn’t betray any impatience, though. It never does, and seeing that makes him relax.

“Because I—like that you like my cooking.”

“I love your cooking,” they correct, their smile teasing.

“Um, right—you love—” he tries to fix his words again, but this one’s far too much to say. The butterflies in his stomach feel similar to nausea. The conflict must show on his face in an insane way, because their smile turns into a wide grin full of amusement.

“It was a good attempt.” That makes him laugh a little. “Hey, if you’re saying I get to bring your cooking to work this next week, I’m not objecting.”

“I’ll try my best.” His eyes catch the clock on the wall. He needs to wrap this up. “I’m not trying to kick you out, but I really gotta get back now.”

“It’s cool. I should be heading out anyway. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah,” he says, poorly hiding the affection in it, “I’ll see you at home. And, uh—thanks. For coming.”

“Of course. I had fun,” they say with a smile. “See ya.”

He watches them leave through the entrance, hearing that familiar sound of the ringing bell, and they're gone.

Carmy is left standing there with an odd warmth in his chest. It doesn't overwhelm him, doesn't suffocate him, just sits there. It's a strange, but nice feeling.

This is what happiness feels like, he realizes, and in this moment, fear is nowhere to be found.

. . . . .

The dinner rush is fine. It's just fine. It's just another thing for Carmy to get through, and he does. Just another obstacle between him and getting home.

A wishful part of him always hopes that they'll be able to close before 10, but it is a very lofty wish to make, especially on a Saturday. With great regret, he puts his car into park at 10:44 pm. The night air is frigid and awful against his brittle dry skin and cracked lips. He can't get to his front door fast enough.

Opening the front door sends warm gusts of heated air across his face. He can't help his relieved sigh, especially not when he sees them sitting on the couch. They’re dressed in a loose t-shirt and bike shorts, a combo that makes his heart pulse.

“Hey, welcome back.” They give him a little wave. He finds it surprisingly easy to smile and wave back. This strange joy keeps finding new ways to pop up. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Fine,” he says, because it was. It was fine. “Busy, but normal. You know how it is. Weekends.” They hum in agreement. He kicks his shoes off by the door, walks over to where they're seated. This is when he notices the laundry basket on the floor with stacks of folded clothes. They grab a sweater from the pile of clothes on the coffee table and lay it out on their lap. “Doin’ laundry?”

“Yeah. I'm trying to be responsible.” They smooth out the sweater, working out the creases in the collar with their fingers. “I think some of your socks ended up in the wash with my stuff.” They motion to a neat stack of miscellaneous white socks sitting on the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah. These are mine.” He picks them up, turns them around in his hand. “Sorry, guess I missed them when I was last doing laundry.”

“It's fine. They're just extra clean now.”

“And folded.” He does his best to put his socks down just as they were even though he’ll have to move them anyway. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” They pull up another piece of clothing from their basket. Carmy immediately recognizes it as they throw it over to him. It’s his boxers.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes on reflex, heating up with embarrassment. He crumples it up in his hand.

“It’s chill. Besides, didn’t you get one of my bras once?”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot,” he says, like he needed a moment to remember it. It’s all a facade. He couldn’t get that moment out of his memories he tried. It was very lacy, and it made him more nervous than someone his age should’ve been.

“Oh, I forgot to mention when I saw you earlier. I paid the water bill today. It was 48 something.” They lean forward to grab a white envelope. The monthly payment from the water company. They flip it open and scan the paper again. “It was—48 dollars and 19 cents, to be exact.”

“Lower than last month.” He is grateful to be discussing the water bill instead of their underwear. “Much lower, actually.”

“I’ve been trying to cut back on my 30 minute showers, and I’d like to think that’s why.”

“Good job,” he says jokingly, and they pretend to bow like they’ve won an award. “I still think 30 minutes is just a little too long,” he teases after. This is a familiar conversation.

“Maybe to you, Mr. 5 minute showers,” they scoff. They kindly don’t mention how little he actually showers. “I have a lot of serious business to attend to in there! Lots of meetings, lots of calls…” They snicker, and he makes a dismissive noise, but he’s smiling. He's never been good at hiding his amusement around them. “So, yeah. Just venmo me when you get the chance.”

“Already on it,” he says. As soon as he sends it, their phone dings with the notification.

“Thank you, thank you. And, ah, not to bombard you with more housekeeping, but I'm gonna try and go grocery shopping this monday. Wanted to ask if you need me to pick up anything.”

“Uh…” Detergent, coffee, soap, peanut butter, bread, chips, he notes in his head, rattling off a list. “I need a lot of stuff, so don't worry about it. Actually—” He turns to look at them, and they look up from their laundry with a curious look. “When were you thinking about going?”

“It's my day off, so anytime. What, wanna join me?”

“If you don't mind going in the morning, then yeah.” It feels weird, asking for accommodations like this. When you're running a business that keeps you until 10 pm everyday, though, you don't have a choice. “Like, 9 am?”

“Not earlier?” They smile knowingly. “I don't mind. We can do 8 am, if you want.”

“I wouldn't wanna make you wake up any earlier than you already have to on your day off.”

“It's no different to me, really. Besides, I'm offering.”

“Right. Uh…” I shouldn't push it, he thinks to himself with near certainty, but he stops. Takes a moment. They're offering. “Sure, then. 8 am.”

“8 am,” they reply easily. A wistful smile appears on their face. “When's the last time we've gone grocery shopping together?”

“I can't remember, so at least over a month.” That's also the last time I properly went grocery shopping, he remembers, but he doesn't want to share that.

“Way too long.” They shake their head. “It's just hard to line our schedules up. You think it'd be easier since we live together.”

“Y'think,” he echoes tiredly. “Not like I’m makin’ it any easier, being at The Beef everyday and all.”

“Well…yeah, I suppose not. It is a little scary how long you go without a day off.” They make a face. “When's the last day you've had a day off?”

“Dunno. Just got a lot to do…all the time.”

“All the time.” They sigh. “Is that really how it's supposed to be? Being a business owner?”

“When your business is fucked, yeah.” The growing distress on their face makes the corners of his mouth twitch in an amused smile. “Scraping by from week to week.”

“Damn.” They raise their eyebrows, shake their head. “I don't know how you do it.”

“I'm used to it.” It's the truth. The longer he thinks about it, though, the festering dread starts to creep out from the hole he's kicked it in. So he changes the subject before it can come out and choke him to death. “Mind if I crack open the window for a smoke?”

“Only if you don't let me join you,” they reply with a wide grin, and he laughs.

After changing out of his work clothes into a tank top and gray sweatpants, he sits himself at their designated window. He cracks it open just a smidge—it's too cold tonight. The cars are quiet, at least. He pulls his pack from his pocket and places a cigarette into his mouth.

“You want a cig?” Carmy asks when they take the empty seat across from him. Their smoking device of choice today is their water pipe. It looks like a juicebox from the packaging, shape, and the plastic straw arching out of it.

“Can I just take a hit off yours instead? Not really in the mood for a whole cig right now.” He wordlessly passes his lit cig to them. They take a slow hit, the orange glow creeping up it. They look down at it and frown. “Sorry, I got a little lip gloss on it. I didn't realize I still had some on.”

“It's fine.” He takes it back and inspects it. Little oily pink smudges lay in a messy circle on the filter. “As long as it's not like that other lipstick.”

“God, no.” They drag a hand over their face. “I know I keep saying it, but I'm so sorry about that. That was mortifying.”

“Don't worry about it. Dust under the rug.” When he brings his mouth back around his cig, a faint stickiness clings to his lips. He bulldozes through the jittery feeling it brings with it.

They sit there smoking side by side for a minute. His gaze flickers between the moving city scenery out the window and the sight of them smoking from their bubbler. Clearly one is more captivating than the other. He watches the translucent smoke fill the glass, go up the straw, and out of their lips.

They catch him staring. His only saving grace is that he doesn't flinch.

“You want some?” They ask, turning the bubbler towards him. So that's what they thought he was doing. He can live with that.

“Sure, if you're offering.”

“Yeah, I am. This one's real sleepy shit, just so you know.”

“Good. I need that tonight.” The taste of the weed is strangely floral as it goes down, but he can't place what it is. “Did you mix this with something?”

“Not this time. Tastes weird though, right? It's kinda…detergent-y. One of my friends says it tastes like dryer sheets.”

“So am I smoking laundromat weed? Tide pod weed?” It's a stupid joke, but Carmy finds that the dumber the joke, the harder it makes them laugh.

“Laundromat weed,” they wheeze. “No, it's not tide pod weed. I can't afford name brand.”

“Equate weed, then?”

“Kroger brand, actually,” they say, “but I hear Up & Up is pretty good, too.”

“I'm sure it's just as good as name-brand shit.”

“Most of the time.”

Carmy clears the rest of the chamber of the excess smoke before sliding it back across the table to them.

“Thanks.” The buzz is setting in. The mix of cannabis and nicotine always feels a little weird, but in a thrilling way. “I really just need to get my own shit, stop mooching off you.”

“I steal enough of your cigs, so don't worry about it.” This is when he notices that their eyes have gone a little pink from the weed. He also notes to himself that he shouldn't be looking so closely. “So, did something good happen today?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You just seem to be in a particularly good mood, is all.”

“Oh.” He immediately knows why. Surely he can't just be honest with them, but the high's lowered his barriers, and he decides to just let himself say it. “Yeah, something good did happen, now that you mention it.”

“That's good,” they say, like it has nothing to do with them. “It's nice to see you with a little less stress on you. What happened?”

“You don't already know?” He asks, because there's no way they don't know. From the look on their face, though, they really don't. “It was you.”

“...” Their face colors. “Oh,” they say, just like he did a second ago. He likes seeing them smile with a blush to match. “I mean, I thought, maybe, I just didn't wanna assume…”

“It was nice. Having you there with everyone, I mean.”

“They're really cool. You've got some great coworkers.”

“I do,” he replies quietly, faintly. It's true, even when he wants to let The Beef catch on fire. “Everyone really liked you.”

“Really?” The surprise is clear on their face.

“Yeah, really.” Throughout the rest of the day, the others had come up to him expressing some sort of approval. Not that he needed their approval. It felt nice, though. How'd you find someone so…nice? Marcus had asked, entirely genuine, and all Carmy could do was shrug. It was a good question.

How was a person like him allowed to have anything good in his life?

“Am I allowed to ask what they said?”

“You're allowed,” he says, amused. “Marcus said you were really nice. So did Syd. Seems you hit it off with them.”

“I think I did, too.” They sit with his reply for a moment, staring out the window and idly tapping their fingers on the bubbler. “Feels weird.”

“Weird?”

“A good weird,” they clarify. “You ever get weirded out by the fact that people talk about you when you're not there? And it's like, good things they're saying, too?”

“Constantly,” he admits. “I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Their hands are fiddling with the ends of their hair. “I guess I just have a hard time believing that people will think the best of me when I'm not around. Like…like, I don't know, just…”

“No, I understand.” Carmy's feels acutely more alert now. “It's like, uh, object permanence, kinda. But with—with people.”

“That's exactly it!” They exclaim, and then they deflate again. “It's stupid, but I just…”

“It's not stupid,” he assures them, and their lips quirk in a tiny smile. “If it helps, I…I don't think the worst of you when you're not around.”

“Hearing you say it aloud makes me realize how crazy it is for me to think like that,” they murmur, “but thank you. That does…that does make me feel better, actually.”

“Sure.” It's better if you don't know the details, he thinks to himself, reminiscing on naked dreams and daydreams around their bright smile.

He really shouldn’t sit on the couch with them. It’s late, and he needs to be in his own bed at this time of night. Unfortunately, logic isn’t at the forefront when he sees them. He’s high and wants to stick to them like glue, so he does. They’ve turned on these HD videos of people making drinks. It’s like sensory videos for babies, except for adults, they told him, and that got the two of them giggling.

It’s nice. Far too nice than what Carmy’s used to. But this time, he doesn’t want to let it go, and he’s not afraid of that, either.

I want this to last, he thinks, unafraid, and he falls asleep listening to their voice.

. . . . .

Carmy wakes up by jolting up from the couch. He’s hunched and heaving for air, and all he can think about is that he needs to see Michael.

“Mike,” he calls out. His voice is raspy and shaken. His body feels like a piece of stretched twine. He’s about to call out for Mike again until he lifts his head to see his roommate who is definitely not Michael.

Fuck.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Their expression is alert, but gentle. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just keeps his mouth shut and breathes heavily through his nose. He manages a nod. He imagines it doesn’t look very convincing.

“Just need a second,” he gets out. God, he sounds awful.

“You’re fine. You don’t need to explain anything, just…take your time.”

“I thought today was going to be a good day,” he gets out between gritted teeth. “Stupid. Fuckin’ stupid of me. Fuck. Mi—” He cuts himself off. That indescribable fear he thought was far has resurfaced, pushing in between the cracks in his ribs, desperate in the space it’s vying for.

Why the fuck are his eyes hot? He shouldn’t cry. Not over this. Not over anything.

“Who’s—?” They stop themself, mouth closing in a thin line. “Sorry. I don’t need to ask.” The question starts and ends there, but he knows what they’re asking.

Who’s Mike?

It feels like two knives sharpening each other, the tinny sound of steel against steel. It pierces him once, twisting, turning into a dull, painful ache. Like an old wound that hasn’t had enough time to heal, an old throbbing scar.

Michael.

“He...” Carmy starts, but it’s too much. It’s too much, and his hands are trembling, shaking terribly. It’s gonna happen again. He can’t do this.

Softer hands hold his, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of his dry hands. With each rotation on his skin, with each lap, Carmy slows down. He returns.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” they whisper. Their hands are so gentle. “I didn’t mean to ask, it just sorta popped out.”

“No, it’s okay,” he responds without thinking, surprising even himself. Even though it’s not really okay, even though he doesn’t really wanna talk about it, maybe he does, because he hasn’t gone completely silent yet. “He was my brother.”

“Ah...” Realization sets in their voice. “I see.”

“He was a drug addict,” he explains, pretending like saying it doesn’t feel like crumbling dough, like sugar dissolving into boiling water. “Killed himself.”

The grip on his hands tighten. He appreciates the feeling.

This is the mark you’ve left, Carmy thinks suddenly. How fucked up is that, Mike? The first thing I tell people is the last thing you ever did. When did you stop being my best friend and start being my older brother who killed himself?

“I’m sorry,” they say quietly, because of course they do. That’s all anyone can think to say. Carmy’s too tired to feel angry about that anymore. “When did he pass away?”

“Last February,” he answers like it’s a quiz question, like it doesn’t mean anything. “It’ll be a year in a couple months.”

“I see.” Their hands are holding his gently again. Carmy finds he prefers this. “That must’ve been really hard. Still is, I’m sure.”

“...Still is, yeah. Especially with the restaurant. It was his,” he explains, when he sees the confusion beginning in their eyes. “He was the previous owner, and he left it. To me.”

“So that’s why you’re here and not in New York?” They ask. He nods.

“I’m trying to fix it.” He doesn’t say I’m fixing it, because that would mean he’s made progress.

“I don’t know how it was before, but it seems like you are fixing it. I know I’ve barely been there, you know it a million times better than I do, it just...it seems like people are happy there.”

“Happy,” he muses. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Everyone seems to really like you,” they go on. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

“It is. Doesn’t fix the debt, but...” He shrugs half-heartedly. No, not even half. Quarter-heartedly. “It’s somethin’.”

“I had no clue.” There’s something regretful, rueful in their words. “This whole time, you’ve just been...”

“Don’t,” he interrupts.

“...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he backtracks. “I just mean...don’t give me your pity,” he mutters. It’s a bitter thing to say. Luckily, he’s so drained it comes out without any of the venom. It’s better that way. They don’t deserve his poison.

“It’s not pity,” they argue, their reply so instant it sobers him. “It’s...respect, I guess.”

“Respect?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I couldn’t handle all the stuff you do, but you’re doing great.”

“I barely sleep most nights,” he says suddenly. He’s unsure why. It’s like he has to prove something. “When I do, there’s nightmares. You saw that tonight and yesterday. I almost burned down the house. My stomach’s still fucked. I’m not...” His eyes feel hot again. Breathing suddenly feels different. There’s ringing, static clogging his ears. “I’m not doing great,” he realizes with stunning, raw clarity, and the pain of it knocks the wind out of him.

“You’re doing great,” they say again. “Look at me, Carmy.”

He looks at them. Their eyes are warm.

"I,” he starts, but he’s having an awful time trying to breathe. When he inhales, he feels like he’s splintering, a unified whole breaking into jagged, drifting parts.

Dread overtakes him in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. Hasn’t he already done enough?

“Breathe in with me.” They inhale, slowly, counting to 8. He counts with them like a lifeline, which it partially is. His breaths come out staggered, but he claws forward. Tries his best to keep his eyes interlocked with theirs. “And exhale...”

He clings onto every beat in their voice, every circle their thumbs make. Their words wrap around him, bringing the broken pieces back together, clicking them into place again. They restore his sense of gravity, returning his feet to solid ground with every breath.

“You’re okay,” they say softly. One of their hands moves up to brush back hair from his face. The feeling of their fingers tucking hair behind his ear makes his eyes flutter briefly shut.

“I’m okay,” he whispers back. It doesn’t sound very convincing. Fake it until you make it, he reminds himself.

“You’re okay.” They take one last deep breath with him, and when he exhales, his head feels clear again.

“Sorry. That was...” He shakes his head. “I don’t usually...”

“Never gotten one of those before?”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve had tons of panic attacks before, just...not in front of anyone else,” he finishes awkwardly.

“Yeah?” Carmy finds himself looking down at their conjoined hands instead of their eyes. “Well, you certainly don’t have to apologize. I get them too, from time to time.”

“Thank you. For...calming me down.” He takes another deep breath to steady himself. “It helped a lot.”

“No problem.” There’s that glowing smile he can’t get enough of. “How’re you feeling now?”

“I…” He tries to pinpoint something in all the noise. It’s proving difficult. “I’m calmer,” he notices.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know what to, how to, explain my…feelings.” The words are so haphazardly put together that he stammers as they tumble on the way out of his mouth.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great.” From anyone, the sentiment would make him shut down even more, turn his head the other way. From them, though…

“I’m okay,” he says, and it’s the truth. “I think, um, just a lot hit me all at once.”

“I get it. It often happens like that, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I just...” He briefly shuts his eyes, and there’s a flash of Michael. “It’s hard. Doing all this without him.” They nod. “I never wanted to. Not on my own.”

“He must’ve been a great guy.”

“He was,” he starts, and his throat closes up. They seem to understand, because they don’t say anything else. He doesn’t say it, but he’s glad for it. This is all he can bear.

It’s hard to put into words, the way Carmy feels right now. He’s never been great at describing how he feels, even when he was a kid. Sometimes he’d cry about the wrong things, and he wouldn’t cry at the right things. But there wasn’t quite any right or wrong way to feel. It just was. It just is.

The grief comes in waves. It always has, and it always will. Each wave is a natural disaster on its own, a tsunami that fills his lungs with water, leaving nothing in its wake. But something about this one just washed slowly over him, leaving just droplets of water in his hair. If anything, he just feels...lighter.

He supposes this is what really trusting someone feels like.

The moment of peace is eventually ruined by his stomach growling. Loudly.

“Hungry?” They say first with an amused grin.

“I guess.” He hadn’t realized. “I didn’t eat much today.”

“Hm, I do suppose you had a late lunch, too, if that matters.”

“Sure. That’s also all I had to eat today.” He doesn’t know why he lets that slip, but he does.

“Oh no!” That makes them jump up, detaching their hands from his. He tries not to mourn the loss for too long. “No wonder you’re hungry.”

“It’s fine. It’s like this sometimes,” he says, like it’s a normal and healthy thing to be doing. “Just one of those days.” They frown.

“What do you do when your stomach gets like this? What do you eat?”

“I don’t eat,” he answers honestly, and they gasp.

“Carmy! That is not the answer. I mean, like, don’t force it down, but is there really nothing you can stomach?”

“If I start chewing, I just feel worse. I’ll usually just have some water and a cigarette. If I have time, coffee.”

“You can’t be having that French girl breakfast. You just can’t.” That gets a laugh out of him. “You’re becoming a French girl, and you’re laughing. Carmy! This is serious.” That only makes him laugh harder.

“Do all French girls also have stomach issues?” He wheezes out. That sets off their laughter.

“I don’t know. You tell me, Ms. France.”

“Wait, stop, I don’t wanna be in a beauty pageant.”

“Then stop following their diet! Look—” They try to speak again, and they cut themself off with more laughter. “Okay. No. I’m fine. I’m not laughing. You, you need to eat. No skipping meals.”

“I usually end up having lunch,” he argues.

“Y’know, as someone whose whole life is food, I would expect you to know the importance of breakfast more.”

“Just because I know it’s important doesn’t mean I’m gonna have it.”

“Hm. I don’t love your reasoning. Stop laughing! I’m mad at you. I’m so mad I’m gonna give you homework.”

“Homework? Just so you know, I wasn’t a good student.”

“It’s okay, I grade on a curve. Here’s your homework—you are going to use my protein powder that is sitting in the cabinet to the right of the fridge, and you’re going to put it in some milk. And then you’re gonna drink that shit. That’s what I have when I wake up nauseous.”

“I think I can try that.” His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Do you accept late work?” That makes them sigh dramatically, making a show of it.

“I suppose. Just don’t make it a habit! I won’t be this lenient every time.”

“Yeah, you will,” Carmy says without thinking. They gasp.

“No, I won’t! I can be mean.”

“I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

“That’s actually a really nice thing to say, but keep this up and you’ll see my mean side!”

He doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does. That just ruffles them up further.

“You just don’t seem real, sometimes,” he admits. “It scares me.”

“It does?” He has to commend them for their calm reaction.

“Good things scare me, I think. I know that's…fucked up, but…”

“No, it makes sense. It shouldn't, but…it does to me.” He can't place their expression. It's some mixture of nostalgic and haunted. Or maybe just plain haunted.

“Yeah?” They nod. “That's not good,” he mumbles, and the beauty of their shared, awful truth makes them both smile.

“Well.” Their cheeks are less flushed, but there's still a dusting of color, like faint cocoa powder on cake. “I promise that I am, in fact, very real.”

“Pinky promise?” Carmy doesn't know where that comes from. They have a habit of bringing a strange silliness out of him.

“Pinky promise. I'll even prove it to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that, exactly?”

“Easy.” They outstretch their arms, and it clicks in his head with a rush. “Unless you're the sort of person that's not into hugging.”

“No, I am.” The words rush out, as if they're desperate to keep the offer on the table. “I mean, I hug my family when I see ‘em.”

“I'll admit, I'm a hugger. I give my friends hugs all the time. I just didn't know if you minded that sort of thing.”

“I don't mind. I like them, um…just don't usually initiate ‘em, I guess.” The anticipation is speeding up the beat of his heart like a coach on the sidelines.

“Then bring it in, big guy,” they say, and he leans in.

The last time they hugged each other, Carmy was sleep-deprived and they were half-lucid from alcohol. This time is different. It's purposeful, tight, and all-encompassing. Their arms go over his shoulders and link around his neck to bring him in close. His arms naturally slot underneath theirs, meeting in the middle of their back.

He can feel their hair tickling his neck. His heartbeat is in his ears, and he prays they can't hear it. They squeeze him, light, and his eyes flutter shut.

“This is better,” Carmy whispers. He doesn't know why he's whispering. He supposes his mouth being so close to their ear makes him quiet.

“Better than what?” Their voice has gone soft to match his. The vibrations next to his ear send a slim shiver up his spine.

“Than the first time we hugged.” He pauses. “Unless you don't remember.”

“I remember.” They laugh, breathy and shy. “God. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn't.” He tightens his hold on them. He doesn't know if they meant for the hug to last this long, but they're warm and perfect to hold. They smell like smoke and a flower he can't place.

“Good.” He feels them turning their head, shifting their face into his hair, and he thinks his heart is going to explode, turning into a red jam inside of him. “So, am I real or what?”

“Mm, you're real. You've convinced me.” He thinks he could fall asleep like this. Sadly, as soon as he says that, they take it as the cue to unlink their bodies.

Their hair's messy from where it was pressed up against the side of his head. He notices how cold he feels without them.

“If you need reminding, just let me know.” Their cheeks are rosy again. Cute. “Like I said, I'm a hugger, so…”

“I wouldn't be opposed.” I think I need that, actually, he thinks to himself.

“Okay. Good to know.”

“Um.” Awkwardness is suddenly his primary emotion. “Shit, I didn't even think to check the time. What time is it?”

“Lemme check.” They pull out their phone from their pocket. “12:40 am.”

Carmy sighs.

“Better than I thought.” When he stands up off the couch, he feels every aching muscle protesting in disapproval. “I should sleep in my actual bed. But, um…” He fidgets with his hands, anxious. “Thank you. For staying with me. And talking to me about stuff.”

“You don't have to thank me. Thank you for trusting me with all that.” They cock their head to the side as they look up at him. Cute, he thinks again, unbearably. “I feel like I know you a lot better.”

“Mm.” Carmy feels his face getting hot, meaning he has to change the topic as quickly as possible. “It feels nice. Being known by you. I…” He thinks about that night he held their hair behind them as they cried into the toilet. I want to know you, Carmy, they whispered, beautifully genuine even in their drunken stupor. “I want to know you, too,” he finally allows himself to say, and he knows by the full feeling in his chest that it's the truth.

They get that shy smile he's seen so much of today. Carmy realizes he likes that he's the one that keeps making them smile like that.

“Okay, then. I wouldn't mind that.” They stand up from the couch next, and they stretch their arms far above their head. “Maybe another night, though. It's late.”

“Right. I didn't mean…”

“Hey, if we didn't both have work tomorrow, I'd love to keep talking.” There goes their uncanny ability to wash his anxieties away so easily, a washcloth dissolving dirt. They start walking down the hallway to their bedrooms, and he trails behind them on instinct. “But I think we've kept each other up late too many nights recently.”

“I think so, yeah.” Without context, that'd make his stomach squirm with the implications. Their bedroom's first down the hall, so they move to hover in their doorway. “Um,” he starts, a sudden unspeakable urge gripping him, “just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Fuck it, Carmy thinks. Fuck it.

With only minimal hesitation, he leans down and pulls them into a hug. They make a small noise of surprise, but they reciprocate almost instantly.

“Just wanted to double check,” he mumbles. He keeps the hug short this time, because he knows if he doesn't, he won't be able to let go.

“Still real, right?”

“Still real.”

“Good idea, to double check.” They step backwards, one hand on their door. “G'night, Carmy. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“G'night,” he murmurs back. “See you.”

I'm fucked, Carmy realizes once the door shuts. The hallway is dark, and there is an unusual amount of good in his life. I'm so fucked.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my fics #OKAYY this ones a big one. i had a LOT of fun with the prose in this. i can rly feel myself improving which is awesome #was gonna make it shorter but then i just kept playing around with the dialogue and! well here we are #also thanks again everyone that's actually stuck with this fic. i still have a hard time believe ppl rly read this with how long it is #carmy is on the verge of snapping soon.... i have a feeling next ch is gonna be a big one folks #alexithymia fic

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quinloki · 30 days

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quin-uhhh:

would you?!

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with favorite five fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨

If you don't, I'll just... I'll just... well I won't do a thing but please?!

many fist pumps,

▲ I'm a symbol now

\o/ Tri, my sweet friend, you are - if anything - a symbol of good cheer =D ♥

Let's see, five favorite fics I've written. That's much easier than trying to pick just one ^_^

Birds of a Feather Marco/Reader ( tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - This is my most recently completed fic, at least at the time of this post, but I love it so much. My passion for Marco feels like it came out of nowhere and has made itself reigning champion in my thoughts. But a story I expected to be relatively short, ended up almost twice as long as I expected, and it was so easy. It was fun to write, and I think it goes down smooth, despite being nearly 90k words people consistently devour it in a single sitting.

Quicksand Sir Crocodile/Reader ( tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - Not sure if you're a fan of the sandy crocodile-themed warlord? Tread carefully, reading this title is statistically likely to convert you. Quicksand has an alternative ending because the story was originally intended to be a very dark Yandere - to the point that Doflamingo would've been the "good" guy. That's not how things went, and I'm quite glad for it. Quicksand going its own direction is what helped seal the deal in creating the Tales of the Grandline Metropolis, which is currently 3.8 completed stories. (it'll be at least 8 before it's done).

A Light Touch Eustass Kid/Reader ( Ao3 / Wattpad ) - My first Eustass Kid/Reader story. Set in the same AU as Quicksand, it was started from a pun, of all things. I figured Kid would be fancy tech stuff like neural-linked prosthetics, and the idea that would make a prosthetic for the reader after they lost a hand was something I wanted to write. Creating something like that would take a light touch, and if it glowed, that would be a different kind of light touch and getting close to Kid requires a light-- you get the point. Like I said, it's all based off a pun, but I'm really proud of the story, it's one of my favorite re-reads.

Some Direction Zoro/Reader (tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - A Modern AU where the government mandates who you marry. I have to give thanks to @lyndsyh24 for not only inspiring me to write this one (start to finish in a single month, I was obsessed!) but also for allowing my to play in the AU she'd built up. From Matchbook to the laws themselves, it's all thanks to Lyn. Zoro started out as one of my favorite characters in the series - I still have love for him, and I'm always happy to write him, but he's taken a bit of a back seat to my top three. Still Some Direction is a story I'm really proud of - even if I worry there'll be a mob after me for who the antagonist is 😅

Family Ties Doflamingo/Reader ( Ao3 / Wattpad ) - I was torn on this last choice - even with five slots it's hard to decide between stories I suppose ^^; Also, oops, apparently I only put the first ten chapters on tumblr... I need to fix that >.> Ahem, anyway, Family Ties is the first fic I wrote after over ten years of not writing at all. It's my first reader insert, my first true multi-chapter too. When I wrote it, it was the longest fic I'd written by nearly 50k words. I wrote it because I wanted a more morally ambiguous reader compared to what I'd been reading. It's not a dark fic though, it's pretty tooth-achingly sweet, honestly, but it's currently the only fic I have where the reader is a murderer in a very undisputed and direct manner.

Honorable mention I almost posted as piece 5 - The Dragon's Clause - my Sabo/Reader Noble/Fantasy/Magic AU, and also the only title I mention that's incomplete. But it's a an ode to my favorite genre, and a great many of my favorite tropes.

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neverchecking · 1 year

Note

Ok I just read your sage AND I FUCKIN LOVE IT!

Can I have a yandere sage x reader smut

Where's The reader is his childhood friend and fell with him and died with him with everything. But the reader loves link but she a half Dragon. And link finding out why the reader gose into hiding every other month

It mating seasons for her and he takes full advantage of it making her his.

Also can I be 🐲 aron

Yes you can! Welcome aboard 🐲 anon!

Half dragon reader? Now that is a meal. I used to have a super popular dragon Au on my very first blog (that we shall never ever talk about) and I'm more than happy to bring the dragons back.

Especially dragon reader!

And with Sage?

Sage is TotK Link btw!

BARKING-

Smut so 18+, MDNI!

TotK spoilers below!

Smut CW: Breeding Kink, Dragon! Reader, Mating season, Sage. He's just a warning himself at this point. slight choking!

'Tis the Season

His memory was not as bad as he once portrayed it as.

While yes, it was once bad, it had gotten less...splotchy in the years past. He was recalling things he could not previously with less of a trigger needed.

One memory did need a trigger though. It happened during his last flash back to the time of the Zonai, when he figured out what happened with Zelda. It threw him from one bad black out right into the next. Only...This wasn't that bad. No, it was nice.

The familiar smell of blossoms spread around him, not soft like the Silent Princess but sharper-- like a cherry blossom. It was nostalgic and comforting in ways that no other memory had been. He didn't want to leave this one.

The heavy pounding of wings, leather and solid like a Gleeok's, didn't bring him any fear. No, instead it brought the evocative feeling of home. Something that he was used to being wrapped around him, shielding him from the icy feeling of Zelda's steely gaze.

Looking around, he felt his lips turn into a grin against his wishes at the sight of a figure in the sky. They had wings, wide and translucent, spread against the sky, casting the sun around them in a halo of pure light. A tail fell behind much thinner legs, the flares at the end flickering every now and then as the being hovered. In a fell swoop, the being allowed themselves to fall before catching the wind and soaring just before colliding into the dirt. They approached too quickly for him to turn and run, but instead of drawing his weapons, his muscles stayed frustratingly lax, letting the creature grow closer. Their wings beat cool breezes around him as they landed. He noticed their bare feet, adorned with rings and bracelets drafted in jewels and inky black claws that dug into the mud beneath them. There were matching claws on your fingers, along with more rings and bracelets, which reflected the light of the sun above them.

The wings spread once more, shuddering before collapsing against their back. Horns matching the color of the wings shined as the being shook their head free of their messy hair. Scales glittered along their cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, his hand raising to gently brush against the former. The being leaning into his hand, smoke bellowing out of their nostrils as a happy little hum left their-...your lips. A name flickered in and out of his memory as your hand came up to cup his own.

The memory faded out leaving him with nothing but a bittersweet yearning, a whisper of a name, and a collection of weeds leftover from the Dragon's Tear.

It wasn't enough. He needed to know more about you. He recognized the place in the memory, quickly making his way to the field. It was barren when he got there, no flowers, scorched with ashes. It made something bitter settle in his stomach but he got the desired results.

This time the sky was a blood red, bitter and angry with black spits of ash falling. That wasn't what had his breath catching in his throat. No. It was the wounds that littered your body. Burns, livid and still sizzling, decorated your once pristine skin as your once firm and whole wings laid in pure taters around you. Holes that couldn't have felt good smoked as you laid still. Horridly still. A hand on his arm tried pulling him away from the scene. He turned to see Zelda already disregarding your broken form, convinced that she could still unlock her powers in time. Blind to the fact that they had already lost. You were gone. You had given your life for their own. And She didn't care. He could do Ganon a favor then and there.

You had died protecting them from a raging gang of Lynels. You were dead. And Zelda didn't care. She just wanted him to fulfill his duty and carry on and unfortunately, he had no choice but to follow.

The memory filtered out once more, and he was left with a boiling rage and clenching fists. Angry energy with nowhere to go, poisoning his veins. So he did the only thing he could think of. He screamed. It was something bitter and full of raw passion, enough so that he felt something tear- if not pull in the very least.

In the very far distance, a dragon's roar echoed his own scream.

He took off running.

<><><><>

You were alive. Scarred and traumatized, scared and cautious, but alive. And you knew who he was. You didn't seem to believe it at first, but then your eyes caught the earring hanging from his ear. He had had it since he had awoken in the shrine and seemingly before even that. It had just always been apart of him.

One of your clawed fingers had slowly, so so slowly, reached for it, brushing against the jewelry. You were so warm. It was so nice against what he remembered as your cold and stony skin, so pale as opposed to your tanned skin as it was now.

"You still wear this." You had whispered, voice crackling as if you hadn't used it for Hylian speech patterns. "I had gifted it to you when we first started courting. I am surprised they have lasted as long as they have with your reckless behavior."

Without even thinking about it, his own hand reached to grace against your scales once more. And it felt right. "Of course I do. They reminded me of you," He had whispered back. While he was never certain of where they came from, they did remind him of comfort and safety, all things he could now identify as you. Gorgeous, effervescent you who was now back in his arms, growling lowly in your throat as he clung onto you. "Why do you have to go again?"

"We've been over this, my heart," You grumbled, shaking your head. "Mating season is dangerous. I cannot risk your own preservation for my pleasure."

He groaned, throwing enough of his weight onto you that you staggered just a bit, wings snapping out to support both his weight and your own. "I'm a big boy, I can handle it. Why must you leave me?"

"Link-"

He just had to stall a little longer. It had been weeks of work, to keep himself off of you, but he had done it, leaving you just as pent up as he felt. And now it was just a matter of stalling long enough you let your pretty little brain shut down and let him do all the thinking for once.

Just a little longer.

Your tail twitched behind you, swiping against the wood of your shared home. "I don't have time-"

"Just stay here with me, princess. Let me take away all your worries-" He nipped at that spot right under your ears, right where your scales ended. It made you shiver, muscles running lax for a moment before you stiffened.

"Link, don't-"

<><><>

"-Stop," You panted out, head falling against the pillows as your wings remained splayed out behind you. Smoke bellowed out from between your teeth as he kept you pinned with a hand on your throat, the cradle between his thumb and index finger cutting off your airway as he rammed his own hips against yours.

You were so pretty like this, brainless and drooling, doing anything he asked of you. Honestly, he doesn't know why you ever fought him on this. He would always win when if came to you. He knew he would make you bend, it was just a matter of time.

He couldn't believe you ever thought you could hurt him. Look at you! Drooling over his hand as you clung to the arm holding you down, nothing but mindless babbles leaving your lips; asking, begging for more. Begging for him to breed you and fill you.

He would do just that. Fill you to the brim. Fill you until your primal mind was satisfied. Fill you until there was no question on whether or not you would carry his young. You would be the mother of his child, no question about it. He would father your only children and he would finally get the ending he deserved. What you both had earned through bloodshed and tears, sweat and sacrifice. This was what everything had led to. This was what all the fighting had been for.

And Goddess above was it worth it.

The thought of you, as a mother, was soul satisfying as you cried out beneath him. He would do anything to see you so. You wanted it, he wanted it, what more to the equation was there?

After all, 'tis the season.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #legend of zelda #loz #link x reader #cindersins #yandere sage x reader #yandere sage #lu sage #totk link

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the20thangel · 2 months

Note

Can I request something (like an Au where there was no war) where reader is Rhaenyra’s only daughter as well as Damon’s daughter. And reader comes to kings landing but with Benji that she married BUT Aemond loved reader and thought that when they married her life with Benji would be horrible but when they show up she’s very happy and has two little boys that look exactly like Benji. And maybe a little fight scene?

This is cute, Yes! I just finished chapter 9 of my series, so this will allow me to focus on this request! I will reblog this will the link to story once I am done with it!

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood/oc #benjicot x reader

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arc852 · 2 months

Text

10. Alien

Definition: a creature from outer space; extraterrestrial.

Summary: Jimmy has been abducted by aliens, who he has learned are at least a hundred feet bigger than any human on earth. He's been trapped in a cage and he can't even ask why. Forced to sit and wait, anxiety building over time about what was going to happen to him. But one day, a couple weeks later, the alien forgets to lock his cage after feeding him.

Jimmy takes the chance to run.

G/t: Jimmy is normal-sized, Tango is a giant

Warnings: Keeping someone in a cage, abduction, mentions of dissection, mentions of death, and fear.

Word Count: 3140

AO3 Link

Okay, I gotta say, I love alien aus. Especially in G/t. It's one of my favorite tropes and I'm happy that it ended up being one of the prompts in this list!

Two things about this particular story, I actually just finished this one up today. It was from the batch of 10 fics I still needed to finish, so it was a bit last minute but I still made it! And I'm pretty happy with it, all things considered.

Also, this au has been in my head for months. It was my go to daydream scenario for a while there if I'm being honest. So it was nice to finally get something written down for it. I may even write more in this universe later on!

Oh, and because there is a language barrier, I used runes and galactic for when either Jimmy or Tango are speaking in the other person's POV. It's not a lot but there will be the translations for those at the end of the chapter.

With that said, I hope you guys enjoy!

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

Jimmy backed away as far as the cage would allow him as his captor came towards him, a small plate of food and a small bowl of water in hand. The giant set the plate of food down on the table so he could use his hand to unlock the cage and open the door. Jimmy couldn’t help it as he shook in fear, wondering if this was when he would be grabbed and taken out of the cage.

But it wasn’t. The alien simply placed the food and water in his cage and then closed it back up. Jimmy looked down at the food before looking up briefly at the giant. He quickly turned his gaze away when he noticed the guy yawning. That was not something you wanted to see when you were small enough to fit in that mouth.

The alien turned and walked away and Jimmy was left alone again. Well, as alone as he could get with the alien only being on the other side of the room. But it was a big room, so he considered himself alone.

Jimmy finally scooted forward, taking a bit of food and taking a bite. This routine of theirs had been going on for what felt like weeks now, at least. Jimmy didn’t really have a good concept of time here but based on how often he ate, again, it had to be at least 2 weeks being trapped here.

He still couldn’t believe he had been abducted by an alien. He didn’t even think they were real. But not only were they real but they were massive. His captor had to be over a 100 feet tall in comparison to humans.

The strangest thing was, the alien could almost pass for human if not for some stand out features. The size, of course, but also the alien had red eyes and even darker red pupils. The most notable thing, however, was his hair. Flames licked the sides and top, a constant movement. Fire and red seemed to be this guy's whole thing.

They couldn’t even communicate. There was a language barrier between the two of them, where neither could understand the other. Jimmy wanted nothing more than to ask why he had been taken. He had only been out in the woods on a camping trip with his brother and friends and decided to go for a walk by himself.

The next thing he knew, a large ship had landed and the giant alien had taken one look at him and grabbed him.

Jimmy shivered, still remembering the feeling of the larger than life hand wrapped around his entire person. He was put in this cage and since then he’s just been…waiting. For what, he’s not sure. But everyday his nerves get more and more tense with anxiety. The alien hasn’t taken him out of the cage yet but he has tried to speak with him. At least, Jimmy thinks he has. It was hard to tell when he couldn’t understand what the giant was saying.

The thing that made Jimmy the most nervous was that, looking at all the stuff around, the alien had to be some sort of scientist. And scientists, especially alien scientists, usually dissected things they wanted to learn more about. At least, that’s what movies had told him. But he could be wrong.

He really hoped he was wrong.

Jimmy sighed and took a sip of water. The first few days he had refused to eat or drink anything he was given but eventually he had gotten so hungry and thirsty that he had given in. Thankfully, nothing was up with it and so Jimmy continued to consume what he’s been given.

Jimmy stood up and stretched after he was done eating and then began his walk around the cage. It was one of the only things he could do in here and he figured he should try and keep himself in shape, just in case.

As he passed by the door of the cage, he put a bit of weight on it, jumping back as he saw it swing open just a bit. His eyes widened as he stared at the slightly ajar door. The alien hadn’t locked the door this time.

Jimmy didn’t even think twice about it, he slipped past the door and onto the desk, finally free of the cage. He glanced around, desperate to get away. He noticed the alien, still on the other side of the room. He seemed engrossed in his computer-like screen. Jimmy hoped that meant he wouldn’t look over here.

He went to the edge of the table and looked down. He got dizzy just looking at how far it went but he couldn’t give up here. He noticed a cord going from a machine down to the floor and ran over to it. He yanked it slightly to test it but it didn’t move at all under his weight. He took in a deep breath and scaled down the cord. When he finally reached the floor, he scurried off. His goal only to get as far away from the alien as possible and find a way out of here.

***

Tango rubbed a hand down his face and yawned into his hand once again. He was so tired, having been working nonstop to try and get everything sorted. His report on Terra was limited though, considering he hadn’t stayed long once he had realized a Terran had gotten into his parameters.

He was also still trying to figure out what went wrong on that front too. His ship had been programmed to make sure he found an area far away from any Terrans. So the fact one had passed by undetected shouldn’t have been possible.

Tango closed his eyes, still remembering the fear in the little guy's face. He felt bad for what he did but he had panicked. He tried to calm him down after the fact but the little guy didn’t understand Galactic and Tango didn’t understand any Terran languages either.

No one did, which was why he couldn’t even use a translator to help him out. Terra was still a new planet as far as the federation was considered and they were still trying to learn more before even thinking about making contact with them. That was why Tango was here, one of the first selected to gather some data on Terra by going there and gathering it himself.

He was never supposed to bring back an actual Terran though. But because the Terran had seen him, the federation told him he had no choice but to bring him along. It was too dangerous for the little guy to get away and tell someone. So, Tango made the difficult decision to put him in an enclosure and try and gain his trust from a distance.

After 2 weeks though, not much progress had been made.

Tango sighed and stood up, heading back over to the enclosure. By now, the Terran was usually done eating and Tango didn’t want to keep any dirty dishes in there for too long with him. “Alright, little buddy, I’m just gonna take your dishes from you.” He said, despite the fact the Terran couldn’t understand him, he still made it a point to talk and say what he was doing.

Tango looked down at the enclosure, only for his eyes to go wide at the lack of life within. “Wha-little buddy?!” Tango exclaimed, looking all around the table and right underneath the floor. He stood back up, looking to see the door was ajar.

He had forgotten to lock it.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Tango said to himself and then ran over to his Holo-Screen, the flame on top of his head rising a lot higher than normal because of his panic. “Holo Tek! Call Zed!”

“Calling Zed.” The robotic voice spoke and then there was a ringing.

The screen came to life with the face of Zedaph smiling at him, giving him a wave. “Hey Tango! What’s going on-”

Tango cut him off. “I lost the Terran!” He said, arms waving up and down.

Zed blinked, taking in the information. “You what?!” He suddenly exclaimed as the information caught up with him. “How did this happen?”

“I-I think I forgot to lock the enclosure.” Tango admitted sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve just been so tired lately…”

“Well, that’s not good.” Zed pushed a few buttons on his side of the screen. “At the very least, the Terran can’t get too far. He’s stuck on this ship. But we don’t want him to get into anything dangerous so best we find him quickly.”

A blare of red flashed across Zed’s face after a few more button pushes and he frowned. “I wish you would have given him that chip we had talked about…”

Tango sighed. “I didn’t want to do anything like that until I built up trust with him.” Inserting a GPS chip into the little guy would have been traumatizing for him, no doubt. He didn’t want to scare him anymore than he already had. “Besides, I didn’t think we’d really need it yet.”

“Right…” Zed said with his own sigh. “We need to get that in him sooner rather than later though. Especially once you get back here.” Zed typed a few more things. “For now, the life detection you have installed on the ship should help you find him.”

Tango’s eyes went wide and then he grinned. “The life detectionificator! I completely forgot about that!” He nodded at Zed. “I'll try that, call you back soon!” Before Zed could say any more, Tango pressed the hang up button and went into activating the system.

Tango frowned in concentration as he set it up. “Don’t worry little buddy, everything is gonna be okay…” He said to himself.

***

Jimmy should have thought this through better.

He was currently on the floor of an oversized spaceship, dwarfed by everything. Somehow, even the dust particles seemed to be at a larger scale. He wasn’t sure how that was possible but he was not in a state to be thinking about stuff like that.

He had retreated to an isolated corner of the room, trying to figure out what to do and not wanting to be in the middle of the floor while he did. But what exactly had his plan been here? He had been so happy about a chance at freedom that he hadn’t stopped to consider if it even was a good idea.

Because honestly, there was nothing Jimmy could do. He was trapped, if not in the cage, then on the spaceship itself. There was no way for him to get back home by himself, even if he knew what anything in this place did, his size was a huge detriment to his ability to even use any of it.

And now, having jumped at the chance to get out of his cage, he was probably only going to make the alien angry. Jimmy shivered at the thought, mind racing with less than pleasant scenarios. But the other problem was that Jimmy couldn’t survive like this on his own. He hated to admit it but he needed the alien. The alien was his only source of food, of water. Jimmy had no hope in getting any himself.

So he was in a dilemma. He didn’t want the alien to find him, scared of his reaction to having escaped. But he needed to be found by the alien, so he could live.

Of course, the alien finding him could also lead to his death, depending on his reaction. But it was the better choice of surviving.

Maybe if he went to the giant himself he wouldn’t be as mad?

Unfortunately, Jimmy didn’t even have the chance to make that choice, as the floor underneath him started to rumble. It wasn’t earthquake worthy, but it was enough for Jimmy to feel and know what was coming.

Jimmy turned around and looked up, backing into the corner as the alien walked over to him. His eyes had honed in on Jimmy immediately and Jimmy couldn’t help but shiver.

The towering being then stopped just short of his position and started to kneel down. Jimmy turned his head away and shut his eyes tight in preparation to be grabbed. His body tense as he waited for the feeling of giant fingers to completely surround him.

When nothing happened after what felt like several long minutes, Jimmy peered his eyes open and looked toward the alien. He was still just kneeled there, looking down at him with an expression Jimmy couldn’t quite identify. But it at least didn’t appear angry. The alien’s hands started to move as he noticed Jimmy looking at him and Jimmy flinched back. The alien stopped short before continuing. But he wasn’t bringing his hands closer to Jimmy, no, instead he moved his hands upwards, palms facing Jimmy.

Jimmy just looked at him, wondering what this could mean.

And then the alien started to speak. “I’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, i ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷᔑリ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭᓵᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍.” Of course, Jimmy couldn’t understand what he was saying but something about the tone of his voice made Jimmy pause.

“I…i ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹⚍⊣⍑. Y𝙹⚍’∷ᒷ ᓭ𝙹 ᓭᒲᔑꖎꖎ ᔑリ↸ i’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹 ʖ╎⊣…ᔑリ↸ i ↸╎↸ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ╎ᓵᔑꖎꖎ|| ꖌ╎↸リᔑ!¡ ||𝙹⚍…” The alien shook his head with a slight wince, the meaning of the words still lost on Jimmy’s ears. “I ꖌリ𝙹∴ ||𝙹⚍ ᓵᔑリ’ℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ᒲᒷ ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ i ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ∴ᔑリℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍.” The alien’s eyes squinted in earnest and Jimmy really wished he could tell what he was saying.

But maybe he didn’t have to. After saying his last sentence, the alien pinched himself letting out a small hiss of pain and making Jimmy jump. The alien then pointed towards Jimmy, pointed at his arm, and then shook his head.

Jimmy blinked.

If he didn’t know any better, he would say the alien was charading that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

The alien must have seen a spark of understanding in his eyes because he smiled gently and spoke again. “I’ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍, i !¡∷𝙹ᒲ╎ᓭᒷ.” His voice was softer now, as gentle as his smile. “Pꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎⎓ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑╎リ⊣ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ.”

The look the alien was giving him was much too human. It made Jimmy question everything he thought about the alien.

The alien seemed to hesitate, before lowering his hands. Jimmy once again flinched back as he realized they were heading toward him but they stopped short, both hands lay flat on the floor palm up. An invitation for Jimmy to get on himself.

That gesture alone spoke volumes in Jimmy’s mind. Being grabbed, he felt helpless and trapped. But being offered a hand, one that was not constraining him…this had to be the alien trying to tell him that he wanted things to change between them.

Jimmy bit his lip. He didn’t really have a choice but at least the illusion of one was nice. At least the alien seemed to be trying. He looked into those giant red eyes, searching for anything malicious but came up empty. His gaze wandered back down to the offered hands and he felt himself stepping forward.

He hesitated as he came to stand right next to the alien’s giant hands before slowly climbing onto them. He sat in the center and looked up at the giant with shaky trust.

***

Tango couldn’t believe that had worked. He knew it was going to be hard to get across what he meant, what with the language barrier and all but he seemed to have done a pretty good job. The Terran in his hands was evident of that.

He knew this was just the start and they still had a long way to go but Tango felt giddy that they were finally making some sort of progress.

He still had a chance to mess this up though. He needed to be careful and take this slow. Tango cupped his hands slightly, so the ride would be a bit safer for his tiny passenger, and then he slowly stood up. He didn’t take his eyes off the Terran the entire time, making sure nothing was going to go wrong. Once he fully stood, he walked back over to the table with the enclosure on top of it. As the enclosure came into view, a tiny noise started up and Tango looked down in realization that it was the Terran speaking.

The little guy looked up at him, a wary look on his face. He looked between him and the enclosure before he pointed at it and shook his head, his expression becoming slightly more determined.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what the little guy was trying to convey. He didn’t want to go back into his enclosure. Which was entirely fair, honestly. Tango felt bad for keeping him in there but it was only to try and keep him safe and from trying to run.

Of course, it didn’t even do that well. So Tango was not against taking the enclosure away. “I’ll get rid of it, don’t worry.” He said. He needed to show the Terran that he could trust him and that included listening to him as best as he could.

Words weren’t going to work though, so he needed to take action. He nodded down at the Terran and then set him down on the table before grabbing the enclosure. He saw the Terran watching him with wide eyes and Tango gave him a smile before he took the enclosure back over to the closet he had gotten it from in the first place.

With that done, he walked back to the table and took a seat, looking down at the Terran. “There we go. Is that better?”

The Terran took a few steps back but at least didn’t look like he was going to run away again. He looked up at him and said a few words in his language. “ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚲ ᛁᛟᚢ”

Tango tilted head, catching onto the tone. He sounded grateful.

Now Tango felt even worse about putting him in there.

But he shook off that feeling for now. “You’re welcome.”

They still had a long way to go but Tango was certain now that they could do it. They could bridge this gap and learn to understand each other. Both in language and otherwise.

And Tango could only hope, that once that time came to pass, that the Terran didn’t hate him for being unable to take him back home.

Translations:

I’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, i ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷᔑリ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭᓵᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍. - I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.

I…i ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹⚍⊣⍑. Y𝙹⚍’∷ᒷ ᓭ𝙹 ᓭᒲᔑꖎꖎ ᔑリ↸ i’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹 ʖ╎⊣…ᔑリ↸ i ↸╎↸ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ╎ᓵᔑꖎꖎ|| ꖌ╎↸リᔑ!¡ ||𝙹⚍… - I…I get it though. You’re so small and I’m so big…and I did technically kidnap you…

I ꖌリ𝙹∴ ||𝙹⚍ ᓵᔑリ’ℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ᒲᒷ ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ i ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ∴ᔑリℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍. - I know you can’t understand me but I really don’t want to hurt you.

I’ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍, i !¡∷𝙹ᒲ╎ᓭᒷ. - I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.

Pꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎⎓ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑╎リ⊣ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ. - Please just understand that if nothing else.

ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚲ ᛁᛟᚢ - Thank you

#g/t #giant/tiny #mcyt g/t #au #hermitcraft #aliens #alien au #tiny jimmy #giant tango #alien tango #gtjuly2024 #day 10 #hermitcraft g/t #hermitfic

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