#they’re about to break our guys out of prison. that did not even last very long tbh

[livvyofthelake]

i could be saying some major hater shit about this damn fanfiction rn but i decided to have the buddha nature and chill out so. you will not see me complaining anymore. well that’s not a promise there’s still a ways to go it could be so over again and then well i’ll just need to bitch about it. but i decided to have a lovers soul for the moment <3 i wonder if any of these characters are gonna die anymore a la finnick. it doesn’t seem like it tbh because everyone’s getting coupled up (🙄) and this author clearly doesn’t have it in them to kill off half a couple. which is lame but like i said. lovers soul.

[thelediz]

Sonic Underground Episode 25: The Hedgehog in the Iron Mask

I’m watching Sonic Underground in search of inspiration to finish a fic I’ve been writing forever. It’s a sad state of affairs. See the recap of the first three episodes here, if you're interested!

The plot (for want of a better word): The triplets rescue a mysterious hedgehog who claims to be a long-lost relative, and spurs thoughts of what life will be like after they regain their birthright. Will the Sonic Underground be able to overcome their sibling rivalry, and remain a team forever?

Yeah… this episode should have been so much more plot relevant than it ended up being.

So Aleena starts this episode talking about how we secretly hide our ambitions from other people, and how it takes courage to let the world see who we really are. It’s… interesting. The first half of her little monologue sounds quite suss, and then the second half is inspiring. One could make too much of this, Aleena!

The triplets are breaking into some kind of prison on the idea that Aleena was once imprisoned there, and there will be clues as to where she is now. Meanwhile, there’s a guy doing opera warmups and preparing for a show.

The triplets are going to be surprised he’s an actor later, but the audience is, as always, way more aware than them. I wonder if that was supposed to be a running theme or point at one point?

The triplets are confused when they hear him, because Robotnik doesn’t normally imprison people—guys, you literally just said Aleena was imprisoned here—and he howls when he calls out, and Sonia finds his voice familiar. None of this will stop them believing him later.

Manic jokes about Sonic’s off-key singing. This is not the only time they will make a joke like this. Now, granted, I would probably not say I enjoy any of the triplet’s vocals, and as I said once, when I was a kid I liked Manic’s best (I no longer know why), but this is such a strange joke that comes up every so often. It’s the sort of thing I’d work up into a big thing about Manic and Sonia resenting Sonic being the front man of both the band and the Resistance, except it’s not. It’s just a random joke. And it’s bothered me since the first time I heard it.

Moving on.

Gotta say, the flow of the animation in this episode is not terrible. Character models are still awful, and they are reusing frames where they can, but the flow is good.

Oh look. An orange item in the middle of the room. A suspiciously moving curtain off to the side. Whoever could have seen this ambush coming.

Dingo is a great actor. I just want to say that. When the triplets tie him up and interrogate him, he spits his lines about how the prisoner is important but did nothing wrong brilliantly. Give that man a Tony.

The Song: Part of the Problem. Another rare Sonia lead, with a pretty funky brass backing. They’re singing to the crowd to try and get people to tell them who the prisoner is. This of course will not really help because there IS no prisoner, but it’s a good propaganda song for the Resistance, so uh. Cool.

But of course it doesn’t work, so of course they need to break back in to rescue him. Which is not very hard, given that’s Robotnik's whole plan.

The prisoner is wearing a metal headcovering, which he claims is a bomb that will explode if it’s removed. And he, in a complete turnaround from literally everyone else in the series, does not recognise them as Aleena’s children. Now, at this point, even if we didn’t know he was an actor, I’d be suspicious, because EVERYONE knows these kids EVEN WHEN THEY SHOULDN’T.

Also, he’s not a great actor. He barely avoids saying the word 'GASP'.

He gives them some golden rings that ‘bear the royal family crest’ which—I remind you—was established last episode as the Royal H. They do not have the Royal H. But this may just be poor continuity, so whatever. They're tracking devices, spoilers.

Now. Now. He gives a speech here which is totally made up but I clearly internalised and took it as gospel. He claims to be the queen’s twin brother, and that there’s a law that says there can be only one ruler, so he was sent into exile. This is to sow conflict between the siblings, obvs, but is also legitimately contrary to the Council of Four. In my story, I very much make this a point, because triplets don’t just come out of nowhere, genetically – you will tend to see twins and triplets throughout family lines. But we NEVER hear of any other family members. So I, being the problem that I am, take that to mean that problematic heirs are quietly removed from public life once they stop being important backups and lose their legitimacy to the throne. Because this royal family has PROBLEMS, folks.

Meanwhile, no sooner has the actor said his lines than the triplets start bickering, with Sonic assuming he’ll be ruler, Sonia laughing at the idea because a “ruler needs to have some CULTURE”, and Manic stating that he’s the “real representative of the people”. So, you know, effective plot building on their pre-identified internal conflicts (except Manic, but we’re pretty sure that’s just fumbled characterisation, not actually out of nowhere). It’s not a bad setup for an episode, is what I’m saying.

I also obsess over the fact that Sonic is the only one of the three who focusses on how he won’t banish the other two. Manic and Sonia DO NOT MENTION THIS ISSUE. Sonia, in fact, is being SO SHALLOW this episode, claiming she gets the crown because the other two would suck and she looks best in finery, while Manic is just getting all resentful.

Oh, oh, oh, I love Sonic and Sonia’s argument so much for my purposes. Sonia snaps that Sonic would drive Mobius to disaster (which he would, to be fair), and Sonic is the first to say that he’ll banish HIMSELF if Sonia becomes queen, and points out how he never needed anyone before and doesn’t now (which again, is true, to be fair), while Sonia is clearly throwing a tantrum and runs off on her own. Manic, as always, just goes along with it, and so the triplets split up.

Manic, naturally, lasts about five minutes before he gets captured. Sonia needs a bit of a guilt trip, but then gets caught too. But when the actor tries to finish up by catching Sonic, Sonic’s suspicions kick in, he decides he’s had enough of this ‘uncle’, and recognises the rings as homing beacons. But as he fights the ambush off, the actor throws himself in the middle of Sonic’s attack and Sonic brains himself on the helmet.

Yes, that’s right, Sonic actually doesn’t just save the day this episode! They’re actually going to bring the Sonic Underground back together to win this time! THIS EPISODE ISN’T GOING TO DEFEAT THE WHOLE STORYLINE OF THE SERIES!

So now that the hedgehogs are caught, the actor has served his purpose and is thrown with prison along with them. Without his mask, revealing himself to be “Luke Perrywinkle” (oh honey. Luke Perry was not this hammy thespian.) that Sonia was a huge fan of and Sonic thought was a ham. Manic had no idea.

Sonic with a sword, Sonic with a sword, Sonic with a sword!

So of course they have to work together to get out, and the actor announces he’s going to join the resistance, and the triplets decide they will rule together, and we end happily once more.

And I... I'm...

This…

Guys.

This was an actual good episode, guys.

Like… still low budget and still a bit messy, but… guys, this was… actually good? Like… it had story and character progression and a lesson that the siblings actually learned that would legitimately lead them toward The Council Of Four and…

It was COMPETENT???

WHAT THE HELL, TRASHFIRE. I AM OFFENDED, HOW DARE YOU.

Tomorrow better be back to form, or so help me I might actually have to give you credit for trying.

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

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

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

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

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

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no—of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was almost three thou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s it matter to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is… is that why you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eren—”

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

“Eren—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you took it, anyway?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mitchell, I have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I asked you now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[atlabeth]

hey! i love your zuko fics so much and was wondering if you’d like to write this, because the idea just popped up: maybe a zuko x reader fluff that takes place before/during LOK? maybe they’re reminiscing about their past adventures w the Gaang while helping out the new Team Avatar? idk it’s just that every time I see old zuko it makes me soft and emotional 🥲🔥❤️ anyways, much love! (and don’t feel pressured to do this at all, I was just thinking abt who I could submit this request to, and obvi my first choice was you 💕)

reminiscence - zuko x fem!reader

summary: just because you and your husband are retired doesn’t mean you don’t have amazing advice for the new team avatar.

a/n: this is so cute omg!! thank you so much for requesting this and thank you for much for your kind words i'm honored <33 im so sorry this took so long

sorry im posting so much lately im trying to stop slacking and publish things that have been wips for over a month sdkjfh

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): none bc i choose to ignore the news of zaheer’s plan right after this scene

-

Retirement was… nice.

You had spent your childhood fighting with the Avatar to end the Hundred Year War, a feat that was only made more difficult with your Fire Nation roots and connection to the banished prince. But all that’s well ends well, and you ended up getting your happy ending together — you had to fight hard for it, though.

You married Zuko at nineteen, three years after he ascended to the throne, and spent the subsequent years balancing your duties as Fire Lady and taking care of your daughter. Ruling the Fire Nation was a lot, but you knew you could get through anything with your husband at your side.

When he told you his plans to abdicate the throne, you were more than supportive. One of Zuko’s biggest fears was becoming his father, and by giving up his position willingly to Izumi, it guaranteed that he wouldn’t fall victim to the power-obsessed ways of his ancestors. It also gave him a well-deserved break after decades of being Fire Lord, and you were more than ready to get out of the world of Fire Nation politics. You had sat through enough meetings to fill multiple lifetimes.

But just because the two of you weren’t as involved in every day affairs of the world didn’t mean that you were completely out of it. No, that was far from the truth. You and Zuko were still some of the most important people in all of the nations, which meant it wasn’t a rare occurrence for your husband to be called off on some sort of mission.

One such mission was stopping the Order of the Red Lotus for the second time; Zuko had been part of the team that stopped them from kidnapping Avatar Korra as a child, so it was no surprise that he had been called to help for a second time. You knew even in his old age that your husband was powerful, but you couldn’t help but feel concerned about everything he was doing.

This concern was ultimately what led you to join Zuko on his trip to meet with Chief Beifong and Chief Tonraq in the Misty Palms Oasis. He had originally been against your involvement, claiming that the Red Lotus was far too dangerous, and he didn’t want to risk you getting injured in any way. You, of course, weren’t having it. “The Avatar’s in trouble, and I’d like to think I know a few things about getting out of trouble.”

One thing was certain after you arrived — it had been far too long since you had ridden on the back of a dragon. You truly adored Druk, and you felt bad for everyone that would never have the opportunity.

After conversing with Lin and Tonraq inside, you all exited to greet the new Team Avatar. If what you were told was true, then they had been through quite a lot since leaving Zaofu. For as long as you had been involved in foreign affairs, you had never met Avatar Korra nor her friends, so you didn’t know what to expect — an awestruck boy that could barely speak wasn’t at the top of your list though.

“Oh my gosh. It’s Lord Zuko and Lady Y/N. I can’t believe it!” He stared at the two of you with wide eyes, his voice getting higher and higher as he whimpered. He looked like he was going to fall over until another black-haired boy pulled him out of the way, his tone apologetic.

“Uh, forgive my brother,” he said as he put his fist against his open palm, his brother following suit. “We’re just really honored to meet you both.”

“It’s no problem,” you smiled as you and Zuko returned the greeting. It had been years since someone had reacted that way towards you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t amuse you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The two boys straightened again as the taller one gestured to them each in turn. “I’m Mako, and this is Bolin. We’re Korra’s friends.”

“Ah, she’s got her own Team Avatar?” You inquired with a twinkle in your eye. “You know, I traveled with Avatar Aang years back along with my husband.”

“Of course I know!” Bolin exclaimed. “Oh, I’ve heard so many stories about your adventures, they’re all so amazing!” His eyes widened and you actually thought that he was going to fall over. “Oh, oh, could you tell us about some of the things you went through?”

“Bolin, we really shouldn’t bother them—” Mako started, but you laughed and waved it off.

“I assure you, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s not often I get to relive my journeys to such avid listeners. What would you like to hear about?”

He thought for a couple seconds then shot back up again. “What was it like when you escaped the Boiling Rock together? You guys were the first people to ever break out, right? That had to be amazing!”

You and Zuko both laughed as you shot him a look. “It was… interesting,” he said.

“By interesting, he means it was a complete disaster,” you corrected. “Everywhere something could’ve gone wrong, it went wrong. They had originally come there to rescue Sokka’s dad, but instead they found Suki and I. Then Zuko got found out and thrown into prison, our first escape plan failed, Sokka almost got found out, Azula showed up… it was honestly a miracle we made it out at all.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” he protested. “Getting thrown into prison was part of the plan, we wouldn’t have been able to get the cooler out if I hadn’t been found out.”

“I guess I can’t complain,” you chuckled. “I did get to punch you a couple times.”

“They are so cool,” Bolin whispered as the two of you went on in the background. He elbowed Mako in the shoulder and gestured towards the couple with his head. “Come on, ask them something! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“I’m not going to ask them something, Bolin—”

“Excuse me, my brother has something he wants to ask too!” Mako shot him a dirty look which quickly disappeared when you and Zuko turned to him attentively.  

“Oh, um…” He coughed and scratched his head. “I guess.. is there any advice you have for us? With this whole Team Avatar thing, I mean.” You smiled at Mako and took Zuko’s hand.

“The friendships you forge during your journey are the most important thing — they’re the things that will keep you going during your darkest moments, and they will last a lifetime. There will be mountains and valleys, ebbs and flows, but no matter what, you will hold an unbreakable bond.”

You felt Zuko squeeze your hand and turned your smile on him as you returned the sentiment then nodded for him to continue. “Never take anything for granted, and trust in fate. You’re where you are for a reason — everything will end up working out in the end.”

You grinned and kissed him on the cheek, humming in agreement. “It did, didn’t it?”

-

After a few more minutes of talking with the two brothers, they went off to join the rest of their group. It was strange being on the outside of it all after how intense your childhood was, but it was… refreshing not to have the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore.

“The world’s in good hands with them,” you murmured as you leaned your head on Zuko’s shoulder.

“They all have that same fire you had when I first met you,” Zuko chuckled. You watched the four of them conversing and a smile graced your lips.

“Oh? Then I think the world’s in very good hands.”

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 11: A Squeeze

Warnings: mentions of violence and anxiety, people getting shot, reader gets tense, Mando is extremely touch starved, and softness.

Author’s Note: Chapter 11! This one is one of my personal favs, so I hope you enjoy!

Gif by bestintheparsec

As you traveled with the crew near the outskirts of town, you couldn’t stop thinking about what the child had done the night before.

Your entire life, death has plagued you. Everywhere you went you carried the guilt of death and knowing that there was nothing you could do to stop it. You had heard legends of a Sith named Darth Plagueis who had the power to stop death, but he was deep in the dark side.

You were never going to go down that road.

All you knew was this little kid was powerful. More powerful than you realized, and definitely more powerful than Mando realized. He had been so concerned about keeping this child safe for so long, when in reality, the kid had the ability to keep Mando safe the whole time.

But at the end of the day, the Empire was still around. They would figure out the child’s powers eventually if they kept coming after him, and you were not going to let what happened to you happen to him.

You had been in deep thought for so long, you barely noticed Mando giving a little tap on your elbow. You were a little startled, but relaxed at Mando’s voice.

“You ok?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah… I’m ok,” you respond. “I just… never knew that was possible,” you say, referring back to the child.

You looked down at his sleeping form in the pram next to you, and you smiled at his vulnerable state. What could such a little brain like that dream about?

Mando went quiet after you responded to his concern, and you knew it was because there really isn’t a good way to respond. He obviously didn’t know the kid’s potential either, and he was probably in even more shock than you were.

“Thank you, for checking in on me,” you say, finally turning around to meet his gaze. You had been riding on the same blurrg for a while, but you were trapped in your own head. His closeness to you was starting to make a blush crawl up your neck.

He nodded in an understanding way, and you headed on.

~~*~~

After some time, you noticed that Karga and his two bounty hunters were talking in whispers as they walked in front of you, and that obviously rubbed Cara the wrong way.

“You guys think they’re having second thoughts?” she asked in a teasing tone, and you returned a breathy laugh.

You tried to hide your smile, but that had been the first time she acknowledged you in days, and she was even joking with you? You didn’t want to get her hopes up, but maybe Cara was having second thoughts as well.

“Could be,” Mando replied. “I need you two to help me keep an eye on them.”

You and Cara nodded your heads, and scanned the hunters’ bodies with your eyes for a few minutes. The three of you had switched to being on foot while Kuiil took the only remaining blurrg.

All of a sudden, a bluff overlooking the town appeared, and Karga was gazing down at the city below.

“I guess this is it,” he said, but he was still facing the view.

The other two bounty hunters had stated to make their way behind you, and the alarms in your head were blaring.

You heard every step, every ruffle, and every breath they made. And it was driving you crazy.

They were at your backs, but you had your longspear in hand. You had better skills than these two by a long shot.

Suddenly, Karga spins around, and fires at the two bounty hunters who instantly hit the ground.

You drew your own weapon, while Mando and Cara approached Karga from either side with their weapons drawn as well.

You knew it. This man was not to be trusted. He could have shot the kid!

“There’s something you should know,” Karga says, and you try not to roll your eyes.

“Please. Enlighten us,” you say sarcastically, but you have venom in your voice. Karga can feel it, so he immediately transitions into his explanation.

“The plan was to kill you and take the kid,” Karga says, and your blood boils.

“But after what happened last night… I couldn’t go through with it. Go on, you can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn’t violate the code. But if you do, this child will never be safe.”

Your weapon was still at the ready, and Cara and Mando didn’t seem convinced either.

“We will take our chances,” Cara says.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil says, and you glance over your shoulder to look at him. This poor man had been though a lot, yet his voice exuded such gentleness. It reminded you of Mando’s voice when he talked to you.

“We both need the client eliminated,” Karga said, “let me take the child to him, and then you three…”

“No,” Mando interupts. He lowers his blaster, and glances at you to lower your weapon.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Cara seems to have the same reaction.

“What are you doing,” she asks, and you are wondering the same thing.

“As long as the Imp lives, he will send hunters after the Child,” Mando says, and you are starting to understand what he’s getting at.

“Bring me. Tell him you captured me. Get me close, and I’ll kill him,” Mando says to Karga, and you hate the gleam of excitement that flashed in Karga’s eyes.

“That’s a good idea,” Karga responded. “Give me your blaster.”

“This is insane,” Cara said, turning to look at you. You see Mando giving his blaster to Karga, and you honestly don’t even know what to think.

Karga just openly admitted to betraying you and trying to kill Mando, so there was no way you would trust him in the slightest. But at the same time, what other choice did you have? The child had to be safe, and Mando was right. The hunters won’t ever stop.

You give Cara a look of pity, but you lower your longspear. Your shoulders slightly relax, and you feel your grip loosening.

“What else can we do?” you ask her, and she looked away in disgust.

“Well, I’m coming with you,” Cara said. “I’ll tell them I caught you.”

“Then she can bring the child,” Karga said, and Cara started to relax a little.

“No,” Mando said firmly. “The kid goes with y/n back to the ship.”

You and Mando were normally on the same page, but you had to admit, that didn’t really make any sense.

“But without the child none of this works,” Karga said, and you hated that you agreed with him.

“I have a plan,” he says to the two of them, and then he strides over to you.

“I need you to ride to the ship with Kuiil and the kid and seal yourselves in. Engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors,” Mando says to you as he guides the Child in his pram over to your arms.

You look into Mando’s visor, trying to find his eyes, but an evil, anxious part of you starts to awaken.

This could be the last time you stare into that helmet.

If this goes wrong, Mando and Cara would be almost laughably outnumbered by the Imps.

You continue to search for his eyes, and you sigh quietly. You have to keep yourself together for him.

Mando breaks the eye contact to rub the child’s ears, and you long for him to look back at you. The trance you guys enter when you look at each other is so cheesy, but it feels real. You wanted to stare at him forever.

“Be careful,” you murmur, only loud enough for him to hear.

He looks back at you and nods, but you notice he is squeezing his fists at his sides again.

He keeps trying to stop himself from something, and you are too impatient to figure out what it is, so you take his hands in yours and give them a gentle squeeze.

He looked down at your hands in his. You didn’t know it, but Mando was soaking in the fact that you were showing him more kindness in your touch than he had experienced in decades. Mando struggled, he managed to meet your eyes again.

“You too,” he says, rubbing your knuckles, and you smile at him.

He lets go of your hands gently, and you pray to whatever God was out there that he would not leave them permanently empty.

~~*~~

After Mando gave you your assignment, you and Kuiil immediately got a move on back to the Razor Crest with the child in your arms.

You hold the child close to your chest as Kuiil drives the blurrg behind you, and you give the child a little squeeze. Your nerves are starting to get the better of you.

Before, you could have worked with a crew like this and never felt a thing. They were going in outnumbered, so what? You were in the safe position and you had the prize in your arms? What did you care?

But now, your very hope at being happy again was walking into an imperial guarded death trap, pretending to be taken prisoner.

You hated this plan. Mando and Cara were smart, so you decided not to question their decision, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still have your doubts.

The only thing keeping you sane was the cooling air hitting your face as you rode, and the little gurgles from the child in your arms.

This is all you could control at this moment. You could control his safety, and you were not going to fail.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @farfromjustordinary @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @440mxs-wife

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3     Chapter 4     Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : story gets a little serious from now on out... there's a lot of sexism, misogyny, degradation of women , and well morally untoward actions by people ......the oc gets roped into something exploitative and wrong. She is consenting but she's also pressured. So , please remember that this is just fiction.

Chapter 8

“Rae, calm down... i didn’t mean i want you to  leave right now..” Taehyung gripped both my wrists with his hands , tugging me away from my things . When I didn’t move, he gave me a gentle nudge toward to bed, prompting me to sit down.

“You’re just-” I began angrily but he cut me off. 

“Just sit down for a second and we can talk about this.” He begged, grip gentle as he held my hands . I tried to pull my hands away but he merely linked our fingers together, squeezing gently. 

I glared at him but sat down nonetheless. He stared down at me for a second before carefully, kneeling down in front of me.

My throat went dry at that. I doubted Kim Taehyung had ever kneeled , anywhere, in his entire life. 

“I’m sorry, Rae. “ He whispered, thumb tracing circles on the back of my palm. “ I was out of line talking to you like that. I would like to think, after everything we’ve been through, we’re at least friends.”

 Someone put me out of my misery,  I closed my eyes in dejection. 

“Please don’t give me a , ‘ we’re better off as friends’ speech... Please, I absolutely cannot handle that from you right now.” I whispered. 

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I was out of my head when I came here just now, things were going south in the office and I was stressed out.... I swear I didn’t come here intending to talk to you about Eun Woo..... I came here to check up on you.....I just, I saw you with Jungkook and then you told me you were going to leave with him and I panicked and told you about Eun Woo. I’m sorry and I know I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. Not now, when you’re clearly still hurting.” 

I stared at him.

“You know just the right things to say, don’t you?” I shook my head.

Taehyung made a noise of impatience, scooting forward on his knees and his hands dropping to grip my waist through the thick towel wrapped around me. Suddenly aware of being just in my towel, I stopped breathing when he pressed closer, kissing the edge of my jaw. 

“I wasn’t trying to manipulate you into sleeping with me. Trust me...when I was talking to Seokjin about not wanting to mate you... I didn’t mean that I didn’t want you because I wasn’t attracted to you....I meant that I didn’t want to forcefully bring you into a world that is going to be cruel to you.” 

“I don’t know if I can believe anything you tell me anymore.” I said softly and his arms came around me, tugging me closer till he pressed his face into the curve of my breasts. 

“I’m not just anybody, Rae....You know that. Being with me isn’t the same as being anyone on the street. I.. I’m a public figure. Someone who has made his disdain for humans pretty clear.... “ He pulled back to stare at me.  He looked devastated and I felt my heart lurch treacherously again . He pressed another kiss, this time to my lips, before drawing back. 

“I know I hurt you.....but my cause is bigger than me, than anything I could want or desire. There are people out there...my people... people who have spent hundreds of years being punished for something they can’t control. And until , I o my part , until I use my wealth and power to bring some change in their lives, I don’t belong to myself.” He looked haggard , pressing his palms to his face, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes and I couldn’t harden my heart against the pang of sympathy that bloomed inside me. 

“I’ve never asked you to give up on your cause. Isn’t that the whole reason i came with you last night?” I reminded him and he nodded.

“Yes...and look how that left you. “ He shook his head, “ I wasn’t even rough , Rae. I felt like a bull in a fucking china shop, touching you. So scared of breaking something, so fucking terrified I was going to hurt you ....It drove me fucking crazy...”

I stared at him in disbelief , reaching out and cupping his cheeks, forcing him to stare at me. .

“ Stop that. You did not hurt me. I’m not as fragile as you think... You’re hardly the first alpha wolf I’ve had sex with...” I said sharply and he groaned. 

“I know... Fuck, I know that... It’s just....My instincts get so jumbled with you. I want to make love to you, to make you feel good …But I also want to protect you and keep you safe and it feels like i can’t do both...” 

“You and I...we aren’t that different. What feels good for you feels good for me too...” I protested. 

Taehyung gave me a helpless look. 

“I was raised this way. I haven’t ever seen my friends and family treat humans with anything but wariness and fear. My family ..... My father and mother, they ....” He hesitated. “ They turned a five year old human child, because she was dying. She was dying and her mother begged them to save their daughter. My dad gave her the bite ..... The girl survived and she was a wolf, yes but she lived. Do you know what your kind did? They said what he did was illegal , and they put my dad on trial and sent my parents to prison for it. “

I stared at him, wide eyed. 

“My parents didn’t last a month. They died in a fucking dungeon because humans think its better for a five year old girl to die than be one of us. I lost my parents when I was eight years old because humans cannot fathom the idea of someone being different.....” 

“Taehyung, I am so sorry... i didn’t know..... “ I said quietly.

“I’m not saying that has anything to do with you. I’m not ignorant enough to blame every human I meet for something that happened a whole two decades ago. I know things have changed....that the world today is vastly different from how it was back then... but can you imagine what would happen if I started this thing with you? “ He sighed, shaking his head.

“Taehyung, what are you saying?” I asked , too tired to process what he was saying.   I could feel a headache coming on, strong and almost debilitating in its intensity .                                                                                                             

“ I  like you.... I would love to get to know you better.... Watching you with my daughter...fuck... I’ve never seen her so happy..... I would like nothing more than to give her a family.... but the people I live with. The friends I meet for dinners, the guys I hang out with for drinks....they don’t trust humans. They’re powerful men who have seen first hand how cruel humans can be and they’re not going to give up years of conditioning, just because my wolf chose to imprint on a human.”

I stared at him, not even sure what to say. 

“Taehyung, I haven’t hidden how I feel about you. I’m not ignorant about what its like between your kind and mine. I live in the preserve. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be a human in a community of werwolves? I know how people look at me, how they see humans in general. If we did this....I would never blame  you  for the way others treat me.” I told him, heart breaking because he had clearly  thought  about this. Thought about this enough for him to feel bad about the mere possibility of me being hurt. 

Taehyung shook his head in protest. 

“How do you think I would feel, if I had to watch my friends treat you with anything but respect? It would drive me insane. And if you think the werewolves in the preserve are cruel to humans, you don’t even know how bad the upper class weres are... They don’t see human women as anything but a sick fetish for them to indulge themselves in. I’m not going to bring you into a world like that.....” He gave me look that was steady and unyielding, his tone brooking no argument. 

I sighed.

“Okay. “ I said softly.

He stared at me. 

“Do you hate me?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I think we can safely establish that I am incapable of hating you.” I said tiredly.

He smiled. I hesitated just a bit, before reaching out to touch his shoulders. I curled my fingers a bit, tugging him closer for a hug and he indulged me, palms stroking my back as I breathed in the alluring scent of him. 

“ When this is over.... “ Taehyung said softly, “ I hope you and i could get dinner together. I want you in my life... even if just as a friend.”

 Isn’t that just the perfect recipe for disaster,  I thought miserably. 

“I’m not going to be your friend, Kim Taehyung ssi.... I don’t hate myself that much.” I pressed a kiss to his ear. 

He hesitated. 

“What do you want to be then?” He whispered.

I shrugged, pulling back to stare at him. 

There really was no point talking in circles, was there? 

“The woman you love.” I said , holding his gaze steadily. 

His lips parted, clearly unprepared for my bluntness. 

To spare him the embarrassment of replying, I went on. 

“But i know that’s not in the cards...so i would rather we be passing acquaintances.” I shrugged. 

Taehyung gripped my knees, squeezing. 

“I’ve not been with a woman in years. My wife, “ He grimaced , a flash of hurt and betrayal in his eyes, “ She... I didn’t even like her let alone care for her. I’ve forgotten what It means to love a woman...to worry about how my actions affect her...to act in a way that makes her feel how much I care for her.....”

I bit my lips, not sure what he was implying or  if  he was even implying anything. 

" Well then,   once my dad goes to prison... You can go back to that blissful time in your life when you didn’t know that I existed. .” 

I grabbed my clothes off the bed and made to move to the bathroom 

.“Rae.... wait.” 

I stopped,  staring at him. 

I felt his fingers on my wrist, tugging me gently and I watched the way his fingers looked, so large and warm over mine. 

I could feel him staring at me but .I stayed quiet. 

There really was nothing more for me to say to him. 

“I’ve forgotten how to love a woman but...” He bit his lips.” It doesn’t mean I can’t learn again.”

I choked out a laugh. God, I hated him. 

“Don’t you dare-”

“When this is over.” He continued firmly, “ When your father is in prison, I’m not going to walk away. I don’t understand humans, I don’t relate to your kind....I can’t feel the things you do but I can learn. I can and I will. After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least i can do for you. ”

I shook my head. 

“ Do it for yourself. Do it to be a better person. Because sometimes the greater good isn’t enough to justify hurting people who are on your side of the battlefield. “ 

He lowered his head and I pulled away gently, moving away to get dressed, 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is he going to come pick me up? “ I asked casually, swallowing down another couple of pills. I wasn’t even in a lot of pain anymore. More a pleasant soreness all over . 

Taehyung exhaled, nodding.

“He’s ...a good guy but I still want you to tell me if he tries something....”

I turned to stare at him, eyebrows raised. 

“And what will you do? Antagonize the man who’s your only hope to bring my father down? Don’t be absurd Taehyung.. i can handle men like Eun Woo.” I turned back to the mirror. 

 I ran the brush through my hair, carefully examining my face for any stray marks or bruises. It had taken a bit of time an an extra layer of concealer but i looked relatively unmarred. 

“I just want to make sure you’re safe and-” 

“I can take care of myself.... I’m a big girl.” I smiled at him through the reflection in the mirror. . 

Although, just the fact that I was here, having this conversation with him was a fine example of how  bad  I was at taking care of myself. How I had a knack for making the worst possible choices, the kind of choices that ended with me with my heart broken over and over again because of the same damn man.  

God, I wanted to get out of this apartment. Wanted to get away from Kim Taehyung. Never wanted to see his gorgeous face again. 

“Eun Woo knows you’re my mate... He won’t....” 

My eyes snapped up to him.  

Just hearing that word made something leap inside me, something sharp and hurtful. Something that felt unbearable, an emotion that made me pulse with regret and pain and filled me with a need to sob out loud. 

i turned around and his eyes immediately flitted to mine. I knew they were a little damp. 

“Can you just...not call me that?  “ I whispered , my fingers beginning to tremble. 

Taehyung froze, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Rae...”

i closed my eyes , breathing deeply. I’d never felt so frustrated, so desperate to end things with someone and yet so incapable of doing just that  and i hated him, hated him for turning me into something so pathetic.

“Don’t call me your mate. That is not what I am and that is not how you see me. So just don’t. “ 

I tried to calm myself down. 

Taehyung didn’t reply so I went on. 

“I’m going to do this...not just for you , but for the people in that preserve. For Luna because I want her to grow up in a world where she has the chance to experience the same happiness that the rest of us do. “

“Yes, And I’m grateful..” Taehyung began but i held my hand up. 

“I’m going to do this but I’m not going to give you more than what I absolutely have to. I’m not going to let you play the besotted lover when we both know there’s no future for us that way. I need to protect my heart and I can’t do that if you keep confusing me. And that means you talk to me like you would talk to any of your friends.  ”

Taehyung just stared at me for a second before nodding sharply.

“Point taken.” He said gruffly , looking just a little annoyed.. 

 Good, I thought viciously. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re gonna have to get you more clothes like this, if we’re going to be together for real... ... You know the kind of life I lead...” Eun Woo commented mildly, shooting me a glance as he maneuvered the car out into traffic. He was pointing at the teal blue sheath dress I had on.  

It was pretty, spaghetti straps holding up the satiny material and molding to my body like a second skin. Taehyung had rented it out for me, and it had given me some satisfaction, watching him go slack jawed when I put it on. I was half tempted to tell him that I had won a lot of beauty pageants at my dad’s Country Club , back when I had still lived with him as a teenager. 

Over the years, I’d always dressed down, avoided make up and just not bothered too much. not because I didn’t enjoy dressing up but because it served no purpose. . Running up and down the ferry meant a lot of salty air on my hair and face and so, I had probably always looked like a drowned rat to Taehyung. 

“I have a whole closet full of branded clothes at my brother’s apartment. You don’t have to worry about me embarrassing you in public. I grew up as Jae hyun’s daughter .I know how the bougie class dresses, so please, just drive .” I was so tired, my eyes swollen although I hadn’t even cried. My heart felt like it had been wrung out . 

Eun Woo whistled.

“So you’re.... technically rich. Very rich.” There was a hint of interest there, laced with barely concerned excitement and it made my skin crawl.

I rolled my eyes. 

“I’m rich if i do exactly what my father asks me to. Which I won’t.”

Eun Woo chuckled. 

“So...this thing with Taehyung...it’s nothing huh? I mean, he’s clearly okay with you doing stuff with me.....” 

I glared at him.

“The only thing we’re going to be doing is finding out what my father’s upto.” 

He held both his hands up .

“Hey, I’m just wondering if he’ll tear my throat off if I shoot my shot.” 

I sighed, too exhausted to even entertain this conversation. 

“Don’t make this difficult.” I said tiredly and he grunted.

“He did a number on you last night, huh?” the lecherous glance he tossed my way was nauseating. 

I didn’t reply.

“Thought you were used to werewolves though...could smell that wolf on you...in the preserve.,.. Jungkook was it?”

I closed my eyes . 

Eun Woo looked handsome and elegant in his pin striped white suit and perfectly polished shoes but there was no mistaking the sheer unadulterated lust on his face when he looked at me. And the way he talked to me, like I was a hooker he had hired for the night. I suddenly understood what Taehyung had meant, when he said that wolves only looked at human women as a fetish. 

I glanced at my phone. It was a little past five. My father generally spent his evenings in his Yacht club, lounging about with his friends and scantily clad women. Eun Woo was a member too and the idea was to casually run into my father there. 

“I’m just saying...you have a thing for wolves...I’ll be more than willing to scratch that itch for you....” He was leering now and I willed myself not to scream when his fingers reached out, lightly stroking my cheek. I pulled away, bile rising in my throat. 

Feeling cheap and dirty, I dug my fingers into my thighs. 

“Thank you for the kind offer. I’ll let you know if I ever want to take you up on that.” I muttered. 

I watched as he pulled into the Yacht Club.

The Marina Yacht club was my father’s castle. It was where he held court thrice a week, all his rich and powerful bosom buddies flooding the place to get and stay in his good graces. 

Wine, Women, drugs and alcohol all topped with a healthy dose of anonymity and discretion. I stepped out into the lobby, surprised when a man called out my name.

“Mi Rae?? Is that you?” 

I felt my eyes widen when I recognized my dad’s old butler. 

“Mr. Gwan... Oh, I didn’t know you worked here?” I smiled despite myself, happily letting his wrap his hands around me in a warm hug. 

“Your father has been so kind to me.... He misses you.” The old man said softly.

I managed to return the gesture, bowing lightly.

“Is he here?”

“Out on the back terrace. A lot of his friends are here today.... Would you like to meet him?”

I nodded.

“Certainly. Could you tell him I’m here with ... Mr. Cha Eun Woo?” I smiled and looped my arm around Eun Woo’s , the latter pulling out his membership card and handing it over to Mr. Gwan with a winning smile. 

Mr Gwan bowed, leading us into the foyer which was milling with Seoul’s elite, men in polo t shirts and fitted pants and women in short summer dresses or flowery jumpsuits with huge hats. The crème de la crème of society, I thought , rolling my eyes internally. 

“Stop looking like that, doll. “ Eun Woo’s lips brushed my ear and I straightened my features, pasting a small smile as we followed Mr. Gwan, past the milling crowd and to the back, where the club opened into a beautiful terrace with a pool and a dance floor. 

Women in skimpy bikinis' lounged around the pool despite the lateness of the hour  and I saw my father, surrounded by four or five men, relaxing in the lounge chairs near the pool. They were all old and fat, my father standing out because he was always particular about staying fit and looking ten whole years younger. 

He looked surprised when he saw me, surprised but clearly pleased.

“Mirae..... And Eun Woo? What an absolute pleasure.” He stood p quickly, eyes glinting with delight when he took in my attire. 

“Good evening father.” I smiled, letting him pull me into a hug. My father turned to the men around, all of whom made no attempt to hide the way they were ogling me. 

“Gentlemen, my beautiful daughter, Mirae. And the man she’s seeing currently, I believe you’re all familiar with him. One of the finest men in the country. ” 

I tilted my head in acknowledgement, bowing lightly while Eun Woo shook hands with the men. 

“Cha Eun Woo at your service.” He drawled easily, holding a couple of fingers up and signalling a waiter to bring a couple more chairs for us. I smiled as he gave me a soft kiss on my cheeks.

“Why don’t we head over to the bar and you can pick a drink, honey?” He said , smile dazzling in its intensity.

I fluttered my lashes for effect.

“I’d love that.” I said , letting him lead me away with a quick, “ Gentlemen, a moment.” 

“That’s Taehyung’s undersecretary . The rest of them i can’t recognize but they’re all wolves. Your father’s been particularly sneaky, i see....” He whispered thoughtfully , the moment we were out of hearing distance and I blinked.

“What?” 

“That guy in the blue trunks, he’s a part of Taehyung’s cabinet. I’m sure of it.”

The bartender tapped the counter to get our attention and I startled. 

I pointed vaguely at one of the drinks and turned back to Eun Woo.

“Really? Oh my God, do you think he’s been telling my father about Taehyung’s plans?” 

Eun Woo nodded.

“That would explain things.... “

“We should tell Taehyung , he needs to fire that guy...” i said desperately and Eun Woo shook his head.

“No... we need to find out what is it that these wolves wants from your father... They’re obviously feeding him information for a price. We need to know what, although I think i have a pretty good idea.” Eun Woo smirked.

“What?” I said, curious but he shook his head, lightly kissing the tip of my nose. 

“Its a wolf thing... I’m just going to go back and lay some groundwork. You wearing a bikini underneath that dress?”

I frowned.

“Yes? Why?”

“Go to the dressing room and take your dress off. Come back and sit on my lap yeah? “

I stared at him.

“This better have something to do with ...”

“Baby, we’re running low on time. Just do as I tell you and you can be back in your TaeTae oppa’s arms in no time.....” He drawled, squeezing my hips hard and I flinched. 

He was so annoying.

But I did as he said and when I walked back to the rest of them, I saw that he was sitting a little ways off from the rest of them but close to the man in the blue trunks. The crowd had left, the gate leading to the terrace was closed and my father was nowhere to be found. 

it was just Eun Woo and the four men and the four or five women still in the pool.. They all looked at me when I got near and Eun Woo stood up waving before sitting back down. 

“Ah...Rae... Come on over!” He waved and I walked over, feeling ridiculously exposed in the electric blue string tied bikini. 

I smiled at him, casually sitting down on his lap, and letting him wrap an arm around my torso. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, my jaw and then whispered against my ear.

“Let’s give them a show.” 

I blinked, confused and then he pulled me closer, tugging me around till I was straddling him. I gripped his shoulders at the obscene position we were in , but he looked incredibly serious as he gave me a slight nod. Smiling, I lightly rolled my hips , letting the crotch of my bikini trace a small circle against the front of his slacks. He had taken off his jacket and it wasn’t that hard to get into the mood. The idiot was beautiful after all. 

“needy little thing....” Eun Woo chuckled. “ Dated a couple of betas but it wasn’t enough for her...Right baby?” 

I gave him a shy little smile, watching the men out of the corner of eyes. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing but, i followed Eun Woo’s lead and moved when he tugged on my hips, buried my nose in his neck when his palms fluttered against my shoulder.

“Sometimes they need a knot.... can’t settle for anything less....” Eun Woo went on, laughing and i stiffened despite myself. He pinched my thigh lightly, a soft, ‘  focus’  hissed against my ear. 

I swallowed, staying still.

He lightly dipped one finger into the waistline of my bikini and i jumped. 

“There’s something exciting about fucking a human .... so helpless and fragile and yet so thirsty to get dicked down by an animal.” Eun Woo went on and the men chuckled. 

I tamped down on the urge to knee him in the crotch. 

The greater good. 

 the greater fucking good. I reminded myself. 

 i was going to strangle Kim Taehyung. 

 “ Knows when to keep her mouth shut too. It’s a rarity with human women...... Always yip tapping about shit. “ Eun Woo went on. 

“She looks amazing...” The man on the left said...

“She looks even better when I have her wrapped around my knot.” Eun Woo chuckled.

The air seemed to shift around me. 

“Uh...yeah?” One of the men said.

“Of course....gets off on it too... People watching...right baby..? I could make you take my knot, right here on this chair with all these people watching and you’d love it...wouldn’t you baby?” 

“Fuck, that would be so hot...” The man in the blue trunks whined next to me and it made my skin crawl. I couldn’t do this. Not even for Kim fucking Taehyung. 

I dug my nails into Eun Woo’s sides. I’d had enough. 

“I have a resort up the Han River.... Secluded and private. Mr Yoon told me you guys have some sort of deal to finish up? Why not schedule it at my place.... Dinner and a show” Eun Woo squeezed my thighs hard making me yelp, “ My treat.” 

The men whispered excitedly.

“That sounds good. The seventeenth of this month. We have a ... meeting with a few associates. We’d require a lot of privacy . “ 

Eun woo hummed.

“Done. And sweet Rae and I will be there to take care of the entertainment . Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have a few more pressing engagements.”

He spanked my thigh and I sat up, slowly climbing off him. He wrapped his arm around my waist , and I looked anywhere but at the men, bowing awkwardly as I let him lead me away from the terrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow...Ow... Ow.. What the fuck..stop!” Eun Woo grabbed my wrists stopping me from raining more punches on him. 

“That was so fucking embarrassing you fucking pervert!!” I hissed and he gripped my wrists harder, so hard that I winced.

“I know!!!  just calm the fuck down. At least we know when they’re meeting the damn dealers. And it’ll be on our turf. “ He said angrily. 

I glared at him.

“So what , the cops can just walk in and arrest them...??” I stared at him in disbelief. 

it seemed so easy. 

“If they’re caught with the drug, yeah.” Eun Woo shrugged, “ Taehyung already has plenty of evidence linking your father to the drug,....all he needs is the physical record of your father in contact with the dealers. And if your father’s there on seventeenth its going to be a walk in the park. All we need to do is...well... possibly fuck in front of them.” 

I felt my jaw drop.

“I am not fucking you... not even if the survival of the entire human race depended on it.” I hissed.

“Relax, babe... It doesn’t have to be all the way through... beta werewolves don’t have a knot so these bastards get turned on watching alphas knot a woman... that's all it is... We give them that and they’re gonna play right into our hands.....” Eun Woo shrugged. 

“That is so gross...” I fought the urge to retch. 

“ We also feed some sort of nonsense to that undersecretary of his.. maybe a false raid elsewhere so these idiots have their guard down. it’ll be easy. “ Eun Woo shrugged

I groaned.

But I had to admit that Taehyung was right. Cha Eun Woo was a smart bastard. 

“And that's the best way to do this? I need to... pretend to have sex with you...” I tasted bile in my throat.

Eun woo smiled.

“For the greater good , baby.” 

i groaned. 

I hated werewolves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Shit’s about to go down in the next chapter !! lemme know what you guys thought :D 

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[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[jungshookz]

miss cee pd i have a request!!!! how about e2l tae x y/n but they're in law school and they're always arguing and debating inside and outside of the classroom and tae being a little shit is like "you wanna kiss me so bad" and they both don't realise that there's mistletoe above them which jimin put because he was tired of watching them constantly argue and wanted to fiZzle the tension hehe and then they KITH,, i hope this isn't too long aha

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; sfw!! enemies to lovers!! everyone’s in law school!! mostly y/n and taehyung bickering with each other and wanting to jump each other’s bones at the same time

➺ wordcount; 4.3k

➺ what to expect; “don’t flatter yourself. i would rather throw myself into oncoming traffic than kiss you, kim taehyung.”

                                     »»————-　❄　————-««

“-now, the particular case study that was assigned to our group involves a civil action for medical negligence and a criminal prosecution for gross negligence manslaughter, which means that there are seven elements that we need to hit when we’re acting out our simulation next class,” you explain, flipping to the next page of your notebook with a flick of your wrist, “firstly, the client - jimin - must be interviewed so that we may determine the facts that surround the claim/prosecution. secondly, we need to draft witness statements - from hoseok and namjoon - and assess the legal efficacy of said statements. thirdly, we must assess the propriety of police interrogation from officer jungkook of the defend-”

you pause when a crumpled piece of paper lands by your left foot and you clear your throat quietly before stepping over it and continuing to pace back and forth at the front of the classroom

your eyes skim over your scribbled words as you try to relocate your place

…

ah!

here we are

“-ant, seokjin, through all transcripts along with the custody record. fourthly, we move on to assessing the reports that have been produced by the forensic experts-”

another balled-up piece of paper hits your foot and your head immediately snaps upwards from your book before you twist around to face the room

“would you cut that out, please?” you snap, already feeling your blood pressure starting to rise from a single glance at taehyung’s smug face

“what? i didn’t know how else to get your attention!” he hums, his arm dangling in the air with a floppy wrist, “my arm’s been up for the past three minutes, and you would’ve known that if you didn’t have your nose buried deep in your book.”

the reminder that you wouldn’t last a day in prison keeps you from lunging forward to wrap your hands around taehyung’s neck and you press your lips together to stop yourself from saying anything too crass

the last thing you need is for some professor to walk past the classroom while you’re cussing up a storm

your self-control has really been put to the test ever since you met taehyung

after all this time, you still don’t know what the guy’s deal is

he’s been a pain in your ass since day one

and for what??

for WHAT?!

at first you just thought that being a complete prick was just his weird version of being charismatic, but then you realised that he wasn’t being charming at all and he was really, truly, genuinely being a straight-up asshole

and, for the record, you’ve tried several times in the past to try to make things better but nothing’s worked

you said that he looked nice in his suit = he told you to stop looking at him like a piece of meat

you asked him how he did on the midterm exam = he told you that it was his right to keep that piece of information private and that you were being a snake by even asking about it

you said happy birthday to him = he said, and you quote, “yeah. it was until you got here.”

the point is, you’ve waved many white flags of surrender and extended many, many olive branches to no avail

at this point you’re pretty sure taehyung just gets off on being a jerk to you

and it’s not fair because it’s literally just you that he picks on constantly

at first you thought that maybe he was just threatened by your presence because you made it pretty clear from day one that you weren’t here to play around

powerful women are intimidating!

you totally get it.

…but then you overheard him offering rosé some studying tips and you even saw him help wendy carry her books for her and everyone knows that rosé and wendy are two of the smartest girls in the class, so why wasn’t he threatened by them?

...

the point is, he doesn’t treat anyone else in the class like this except for you and you can’t seem to figure out why!

what makes it even more frustrating is the fact that his stupid face is very nice to look at, so whenever he’s being mean to you, your dumb girl hormones drown out the sound of his rich, honey-like voice and place floating pink hearts around his head instead

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t paying attention to you, mr. kim.” you force out before gesturing to the notebook cradled in the crook of your arm, “see, all my notes are in here and i’m just trying to make sure that i don’t miss out on any details,” you point out, “and… i thought i said to save your questions for the end, did i not?”

“did you? i guess i wasn’t listening. sorry, sweetheart.” taehyung chirps, folding his arms and leaning forward on his desk, “anyway- don’t you think it’s a little unfair that you get to play the hotshot lawyer in this simulation?”

“everyone gets a turn to be the lawyer - last week, it was jungkook. this week, it’s me. everyone gets a shot to play the hotshot lawyer because our roles rotate.” you shake your head in disagreement, “how am i being unfair?”

“you assigned yourself, like, the coolest case study.” taehyung scoffs, leaning back against his seat and crossing his arms, “i mean… medical negligence and a criminal prosecution for gross negligence manslaughter?” his left brow arches before he turns his head slightly, “jungkook, what was your case study on again?”

“my client parked in a no-parking zone!” jungkook beams, nodding to himself, “i didn’t mind getting that case, though. it was actually pretty fu-”

“you hear that, y/n?” taehyung turns his head back to face you before gesturing behind him, “jungkook also thinks his case was boring as hell- his client parked in a no-parking zone and you get to deal with corrupt doctors and accidentally-but-not-really-accidentally-run-over-by-a-car pedestrians.”

your jaw clenches in frustration and you resist the urge to take a heel off and bash taehyung’s skull in with it

being forced to wear nice shoes to school would be so much better if you were allowed to commit cold-blooded murder with them

“well, that was last week’s case, so even if jungkook thought it was boring…” you pause, turning to set your notebook down on the front desk before twisting back around, “he’s already had his turn. and now it’s my turn!”

“you could’ve given me this case.”

“oh, please.” you snort, rolling your eyes before leaning against the front desk, “you wouldn’t have been able to handle a case this big. this has my name written all over it.”

taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes, “the only reason why it has your name written all over it was because you grabbed it with your grubby little raccoon hands before anyone else had the chance to-”

“i-!” you pinch the bridge of your nose before letting out a laugh of disbelief, “oh my god, i refuse to have this conversation with you again, taehyung- for the last time, it was a first-come-first-serve situation, and you probably could’ve gotten this case if you weren’t so busy watching netflix in class-”

“you guys-” namjoon clears his throat, his shoulders drooping when the two of you ignore him, “…never mind.”

this always happens

you guys somehow always find something to argue about no matter what

in fact, namjoon’s convinced that you guys could sit in complete and utter silence and still find something to fight over

“how long do you think the argument will last this time?” yoongi leans over, “i bet you ten bucks it’ll last longer than last week’s fight.”

“no way! last week’s fight was half an hour long-” hoseok chimes in, “…they can’t possibly argue for longer than thirty minutes… can they?”

“remember that time they fought over a sandwich?” jungkook sighs, leaning his cheek against his fist, “that was a forty minute argument.”

“they fought over a sandwich?” jimin frowns, turning to glance towards the front, “what was there to even argue about??”

“y/n said that the spread was dijon mustard and taehyung said it was horseradish mustard,” seokjin purses his lips, “…i actually ordered the same sandwich and i’m pretty sure it was just regular ol’ yellow mustard… but i’m too afraid to tell either of them they’re wrong about it.”

“oh my god-” jimin scoffs, “forty minutes arguing about mustard?? really??”

“yep! i even recorded the whole thing just because it’s actually pretty interesting listening to two people scream about mustard so passionately for so long,” jungkook pulls his phone out of his back pocket, the rest of the boys scooting in closer to his desk, “by the time we finish watching the video, they’ll… probably be done arguing with each other. maybe.”

“-ow thick is your skull, taehyung? were you dropped on your head as a baby??” you scowl, “if i was a teacher’s pet like you say i am, then i would’ve sweet-talked my way out of being in a group with you. also, you know what? i wasn’t going to bring this up, but the only reason why we’re here during christmas break is because it was your idea to practice during the holidays-”

“yeah! you get to practice your big show in a huge, empty classroom without getting nervous about someone overhearing you practice speaking in your dumb, professional lawyer voice-” taehyung gestures around at the spacious atmosphere, “if this is your way of being thankful to me, you have an awfully funny way of showing it-”

“do you know what i could be doing right now if i wasn’t here?” you scowl, placing your hands on your hips as you glare at taehyung

“hm, let me think…” he hums, leaning back against his chair before kicking his legs up onto his desk, “bending over and trying desperately to pull the fat stick out of your ass?”

jimin sits up a little straighter as he peers over the top of namjoon and seokjin’s heads to check and see if you and taehyung are done arguing yet

your ears are turning red and there’s an animalistic, frenzied look behind your eyes, so... nope. definitely not done yet.

after all this time, he still doesn’t know why you guys fight the way that you do

it’s like you enjoy pushing each other’s buttons and irritating each other until one of you inevitably snaps (you’re usually the first one to fall off the rocker because taehyung is alarmingly good at being irritating)

“ooh, hold on-” jungkook grins, pointing to the screen before whacking jimin’s arm in rapid smacks, “my favourite part is coming up, you have to pay attention-”

jimin looks away from you two and back down at the screen

“-the low acidity liquid gives dijon mustard that intensified heat and the classic pungent flavour which is very obvious in this sandwich!” you exclaim, peeling the top slice of bread off to reveal the inside, “and look at that colour! that is literally dijon mustard-”

“okay, fine! it’s dijon mustard.” taehyung responds while inspecting his nail beds

“no, you’re not listening to- wait… did you just agree with me?”

“yeah!” he sighs, crossing his arms, “the mustard used in your sandwich is dijon mustard. and also, the sky is green-”

“oh my god, you piece of-!”

jimin looks up again when he hears your voice rise a couple of octaves

this is the part of the argument when your ‘i’m-fine-don’t-touch-me-I’M-FINE’ voice comes out

“wow! you are-” you laugh, shaking your head as you lean down and place your hands flat on the surface of taehyung’s desk “you really are something else, kim taehyung. i-!”

you let out a yelp of surprise when taehyung suddenly reaches over and yanks at a section of your hair

“ow!” you whack his hand away before flicking your hair over your shoulder, “wha- what the hell was that for?!”

taehyung doesn’t flinch at your aggressive tone and he looks up at you, completely unfazed, before giving a half-hearted shrug

“it was hanging, like, right in front of me. i couldn’t not pull on it.”

“well, your tie is right there but you don’t see me reaching over and pulling on it to strangle you because it’s right in front of me-”

“oh, threatening to choke me, are we?” taehyung hums, “i’m suddenly feeling very unsafe. should i get one of the guys to call campus security for my protection, miss y/n?”

“do you guys think we should break things off?” seokjin glances over his shoulder at the escalating scene, “ideally, i’d like for this to not turn into a how to get away with murder scenario…”

jimin narrows his eyes slightly as the gears click-click-click away in his head, leaning back against his seat and reaching up to tap at his chin

there’s something about this situation that’s reminding him of something but he can’t quite put his finger on it

“oh my god, you are such a child-!”

jimin’s eyes suddenly widen in realization, a lightbulb appearing at the top of his head

!

does taehyung like y/n?

...

oh, wow

taehyung has a full-blown crush on you!

how could he not have noticed this before?!

taehyung is literally the bratty little boy pulling on your pigtails because he doesn’t know how else to get your attention on this playground!

a comment from a former conversation with you briefly flits through jimin’s mind as he continues staring at the two of you in awe

he doesn’t remember how exactly you guys started talking about it, but he does remember you saying these words to him:

“i mean… yeah. of course i think taehyung’s attractive. maybe in another universe where he’s not bullying me 24/7, i would be more open to admitting to myself that i might have a slight crush- i-i mean, i- what did we say we were going to get for lunch today?? sandwiches?? we should get sandwiches, the place is right here-”

how could he have forgotten you said that to him?!

it’s like he finally has his hands on the missing puzzle piece... and it’s up to him to finish this puzzle!

“i have a plan.” jimin whispers to himself before reaching over to grab onto jungkook’s wrist, “i know what i have to do!”

“huh?” jungkook frowns in confusion, pausing the video before looking over at him, “what are you talking about?”

“just-” jimin gets up from his seat quickly, the chair screeching against the floor, “just make sure they don’t stop arguing with each other while i’m gone because i might take a while to find what i need-”

“you know, i don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” yoongi snorts, everyone looking towards the front to see you glaring at taehyung like you want to rip his heart out of his chest and eat it raw, “check out that throbbing vein in y/n’s forehead.”

“forget about her forehead vein-” jungkook shakes his head, “has no one else noticed how tightly taehyung clenches his asscheeks whenever he’s pissed? those trousers do not hide anything.”

everyone’s eyes immediately gravitate down to taehyung’s ass, hoseok and seokjin bursting into giggles at the sight

“what the fuck is your problem?!” you scream, taehyung’s eyes widening at your sudden outburst, “you’ve treated me like shit from day one and i’ve literally done nothing wrong!”

“okay! i think we should all just take a step back and take a deep breath…” namjoon gets up from his seat slowly, “it’s getting a little intense-“

“nothing wrong?! oh yeah, because you’re little miss perfect-” taehyung spits out, “don’t play dumb, you know exactly what you did!”

“what did i-!” you throw your hands up into the air, “please, i am begging you to tell me what the horrible thing is that i did that made you decide i was public enemy number one-”

“i heard you talking shit about me at the very beginning of the semester when you didn’t even know me! we’d never met and you didn’t even bother trying to get to know me before you formed your own opinion of me based on the way i looked-” taehyung snaps, “you said that i looked like an entitled, obnoxious frat-boy who didn’t even know left from right and only made it to law school because his daddy gave the school a generous donation- so if we’re really going to talk about who the real asshole is in this room, i would suggest re-evaluating-”

you feel the blood drain from your face at the reminder of what you said about taehyung on the first day of class

...oh.

...

okay, yeah, you... might have said that stuff, but it was only because the other people you were sitting with at the time said stuff like that and... and you were so desperate to find a group of cool law-school friends that you were totally willing to say and do anything they wanted you to do or say!

it obviously didn’t work because you don’t sit with them anymore, so...

yeah, it was a bad move to talk shit about taehyung like that without even having spoken one word to him, but if this proves anything... it’s that peer pressure is dangerous!

“well, why didn’t you just-” you stammer, feeling your face starting to heat up from embarrassment, “why didn’t you just tell me about this earlier? we could’ve nipped it right in the bud-”

“i much prefer the bullying because the feeling i get after seeing the defeat in your eyes is equivalent to a full-body orgasm-”

“oh my god, you sick freak-”

“uh, you guys-” namjoon cuts in again, holding his finger up, “can i just s-”

“okay, fine!” you raise your hands in surrender, “i’m sorry, alright? i’m really sorry. what i said about you was shitty, but i don’t see how bullying me for months on end was a good solution-”

“can you two shut u-”

“oh, i never said it was a good solution, y/n,” taehyung purses his lips, “like i said - i just did it because it was fun-”

“guys, if i could just get one word in-”

“do you even realize how psychotic you sound right no-”

“HEY!” namjoon suddenly bellows, you and taehyung jumping and clamming up immediately in alarm

“what??” the two of you ask at the same time, pausing to glare at each other for a split second before looking back over at namjoon

“i…” he trails off, his eyes flickering upwards, “…know this is kind of awkward timing, but…”

you and taehyung look up simultaneously, your eyes widening to see a dinky little shrub of... mistletoe? taped at the end of a meter stick

oh no 

oh hell no

“kiss first, and then you can apologise for what was obviously a huge misunderstanding and you can apologise for being a huge prick later - pucker up, lovebirds!” jimin chirps, waving the stick a little and watching your eyes go side to side like a ping-pong ball, “don’t be shy! also, i know the mistletoe looks like a clump of grass that i tied a red ribbon around- just don’t look too closely at it-”

“ha!” you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, “no way! i don’t know what you people think is going on here, but it’s certainly not that- you can’t just dangle a plant over my head and force me to kiss him-”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” taehyung scoffs in offence, tilting his head upwards slightly, “anyone would be honoured to be under the mistletoe with me!”

“yeah. anyone out of their mind.”

“aw, c’mon, you guys…” hoseok pushes his bottom lip out in a pout before clasping his hands together, “kiss and make up! we all know that’s how it works. let the christmas spirit take over your bodies and fuel your weird hate-love for each othe-”

“the sooner you two kiss and make out, the sooner i can get the hell out of here,” yoongi interrupts, snapping his fingers, “c’mon! plant a fat one on each other!”

“the only reason why y/n’s getting whiney about it because she knows she’ll fall in love with me the moment she kisses me.” taehyung suddenly speaks up and you immediately look back down at him with a glare

fall in love????

with him????

it’s not going to take a single kiss to fall in love with taehyung - it’s going to take intensive exposure therapy to fall in love with him!

“don’t flatter yourself. i would rather throw myself into oncoming traffic than kiss you, kim taehyung.” you growl, smacking your hands down on taehyung’s desk so violently that it rattles beneath you

“now, now. there’s no need to lie…” taehyung chuckles lightly as he pushes his seat back slightly and rises to his feet

“i’m not lying! i don’t want to kiss you!”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do TOO!”

“do NOT!”

“you know, you just sound like you’re trying to convince yourself that you don’t want to kiss me-”

“you’re the one who keeps pushing it-” you jab a finger into his chest, “maybe you’re the one who wants to kiss me!”

“you think i wanna kiss you?!” taehyung laughs, flicking your hand away from him, “now look who the delusional one is!”

“i thought this was supposed to fix the arguing?” seokjin mutters under his breath, jungkook offering him a shrug while keeping his eyes glued on you and taehyung

he was running out of things to watch on netflix and this makes far better entertainment

the only thing that would make this better was if you and taehyung had at it in a grimy boxing ring half-naked

“i can’t be the only one thinking that all of this could be easily fixed if they just boned each other.” jungkook snorts, the other boys turning to look at him, “…what??”

“i wouldn’t kiss you even if you were the last man on earth.” you snarl, your voice wavering slightly

“you really expect me to believe that?” taehyung tilts his head, “don’t think i didn’t catch the way your eyes just flickered down to my lips, y/n...”

you feel your heart starting to pound in your chest when he places his hands flat on the desk as well, the tips of his fingers brushing over yours

at this proximity, the little voice in the back of your head can’t help but point out how pretty taehyung’s eyes are... and how nice he smells... and how soft his lips look...

...do you wanna kiss him?

oh, god

do you wanna kiss kim taehyung?!

no, you don’t

yes, you do

what??

WHAT?? 

“you wanna kiss me so bad, and you know it, y/l/n.” taehyung taunts, leaning forward just a little more

at this point, your faces are merely an inch away from each other’s and it wouldn’t take much effort to just lean in and… you know.

“i hate you.”

“if you hated me so much, then you wouldn’t be making such a big deal over silly little mistletoe now, would you?” taehyung smirks, pulling away before making his way around the desk so that he can get closer to you, “you like me but you’re too much of a wimp to admit it!”

“i like you?!” you gawk, “more like you like me!”

“okay-” jimin huffs, lowering the stick before taking a step back, “i really thought this was going to work, but my arms are getting tired, so if you two aren’t going to kiss, then i- oh-” his eyes widen in surprise when you and taehyung are suddenly lunging at each other not a second later, your hands cupping his cheeks and his hands gripping your waist as you kiss far more feverishly than he thought you two would

oh

oh my

“see, what’d i say? sexual tension!” jungkook kisses his teeth, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms, “all that pent-up energy from arguing has led to this beautiful moment-”

“you’re an- mm- you’re an awful kisser, by the way-” taehyung mutters against your mouth, lips turning up in a boyish grin when you retaliate by shoving at his chest

“so are you!” you pull away only for taehyung to pull you right back in to press his mouth against yours again, “’m hating ehvery minute of this-”

“ah… isn’t young love sweet?” hoseok coos, jumping in his seat when taehyung suddenly shoves you up against the front desk with a thud, “so passionate!”

“okay, we’re just going to-” namjoon gets up from his seat gesturing for the boys to get up as well, “we’re happy to see that the argument has been settled!”

he hurries everyone to the front door and turns to glance over his shoulder, “when you guys are done, just… let us know! we’re going to pop over to starbucks for some hot chocolate. so... text one of us. or call! or you could use snapchat- it’s up to you, really-!”

namjoon doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before yoongi’s yanking his arm and pulling him backwards, reaching over to slam the door shut

a moment of silence goes by in which everyone takes a second to process what exactly just happened

“take your shirt off-”

“you take yours off first!”

“i... can’t tell if my plan was a success or a failure.” jimin mutters to himself, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck

“hey, if it makes you feel any better, at least they aren’t arguing with each other anymore!” jungkook cheers, clapping his hands quietly, “it’s a christmas miracle!”

❄️christmas with cee 2020 masterlist 🎄

[stellocchia]

I really liked Wilbur's lore stream from yesterday, so you guys are getting a short stream analysis from me

As always dialogue is color-coded: Wilbur, Tubbo, Ranboo

And since I'm the least concise person ever everything is under the cut

The stream is (DSMP LORE) A Year Later

The stream starts with Wilbur singing the L'Manburg anthem to Ranboo. It is interesting to notice that, just like all the streams since he's been back he doesn't start off the stream by addressing chat in any way but already taking with someone in-universe.

"I'm a big big fan of the song (...) (Wilbur notices that Ranboo was muted) so sorry, let's try again: have you heard that song before?" "Yeah I have, I have. I have- I've had a friend that sings it quite a lot" “Good, good, and I was gonna say, it’s obviously based on Hallelujah right? But the thing is, the thing is Ranboo, right? But the thing is- the thing is Ranboo, right? Is that the reason we did it is because Tommy used to sing Hallelujah to the plants" "Oh, to the plants?" "Yeah! In- in the- around the- around the uhm... around the thing! You know the- the caravan? (...) so, my man, Tommy used to sing to the plants to make them grow better and that was the song he used to sing and so I thought what a way to honour Tommy, you know, one of the most- one of the most loyal members or of our fair nation than by naming the song after him, you know? And singing it based on his little- his little Muse. Tommy is a- Tommy is all of our Muse really I'd say"

I cut as much of this quote as I could while still leaving it well understandable and leaving in everything I wanted to talk about, but man is it long... So let's break it down a bit at a time:

1) The friend that Ranboo referenced that sings the anthem a lot is most likely Tubbo considering that they met him later on in this stream while he was singing that very song

2) The memory of the song seems to still be a particularly pleasant one for Wilbur, which probably explains why Ghostbur as well was so fond of it. He speaks about it positively throughout and it generally seems like an overall positive moment of reminiscence, probably because it's a callback to a simpler time when Wilbur too was, you know, happier overall. It's a reminder of a time before the worsening of his spiral.

3) Also interesting that they kept it in canon that Tommy singing to the plants was what inspired the anthem. Especially because I'm not entirely sure if that's the case considering that the actual anthem wasn't written by cc!Wilbur but by a fan upon his request (obviously this is outside the story).

4) Last thing I wanted to mention was Wilbur describing Tommy as a Muse. Muses in mythology are the inspirational goddesses of the arts, music, and science, Tommy aside from the anthem obviously isn't that. But it is interesting that Tommy does take a central role when it comes to motivating people. We could say that Techno's speech on the 16th was inspired by him since it was directed at him. Similarly, Niki and Jack had their arcs revolving around him. Tommy was able to rally the troops with ease multiple times. And Dream's obsession with him itself is the main motivator for, like, 90% of his actions. So, while he may not cover the role of a muse literally it's not a comparison that is too far off...

They headed to the museum afterward and took notice of the Ranboo poster being missing. And then they headed off to L'Manburg (which, by the way, looks amazing, thank you cc!Phil for that one).

"It goes by L'Manhole now apparently" "I- yeah it's kinda- ugh- I'm not a fan. It's kinda rude to L'Manburg's history, you know? It- it's called L'Manburg. It's called L'Manburg. NOT Manberg, not L'Crater or whatever. L'Manhole, I don't care, it's now L'Manburg, it's always L'Manburg, okay?"

It's interesting that not too long ago he was saying that even L'Manburg itself (with an emphasis on the name) wasn't what was actually important, the purpose of it was. He admits later on that he lied in that conversation, but it's impressive how quickly he trusted Ranboo enough to let him see how much he still cared about L'Manburg when he was so intent on lying about it not too long ago.

Wilbur's enthusiasm about seeing the flag is another nice confirmation about him still caring deeply for his old nation.

"Damn, I really went down to bedrock, didn't I? Holy shit I did- I did a number on this place" (I wonder why Ranboo didn't correct him on this, because Ranboo knows that Techno, Phil, and Dream are the ones who actually exploded the country down to bedrock...)

They end up seeing Tubbo on the other side of the crater and head over to him. While they're heading there Tubbo is singing the anthem himself in a very mournful tone.

One interesting thing that I noticed it's that it's Wilbur that heads towards Tubbo's location instead of having Tubbo go to him like he mostly did with Tommy for example. I suppose it could be because Tubbo having been a president himself is in less of a subordinate position to Wilbur than Tommy who's always been a simple soldier.

"It's like looking in a little mirror, look you're wearing my suit still? How long have you been wearing that?" "Oh I just put it on, just for today" (in a similar fashion to Jack bringing out the L'Manburg uniform to reminisce, Tubbo also brought out clothes he strongly attaches the memory of L'Manburg to)

"Ranboo have you met Tubbo?" "Yeah, yeah. I've- I've met him, I mean we've, uhm... we've been around" (Ranboo still minimizing his relationship with Tubbo to Wilbur. Of course, this is because he doesn't trust him but it's interesting that he isn't even honest about that)

After a bit of back and forth, Wilbur starts apologizing to Tubbo. At first, like most other times he's having a serious discussion he puts himself in an elevated position to tower over Tubbo. It's a neat way to show how his own desire for control affects him, having Wilbur literally elevate himself over others when speaking to them. Literally putting Tubbo down in this situation. Which does make the beginning of his apology very obviously feel insincere.

"I'm sorry for making you president specifically before blowing it up and I'm sorry for when I did this *pointing at the crater* and blew all this up and making this whole. I'm sorry that I uh- that I said that you were the president of a crater"

This is that first part of the apology I mentioned. Just to clarify, I don't actually think that it was entirely insincere. It just feels less impactful due to Wilbur putting himself in a position of superiority over Tubbo, especially because it's something we've seen him do before. It's also to be noted that this time, like others before, he seems to be apologizing less out of actual guilt and more out of a desire to earn forgiveness. Which is not a critique by the way. I just feel like that's a misconception Wilbur has, that apologies serve the purpose of confirming to him that he's doing a good job at changing more than to actually make amends for what he's done. The reason why I think that's the case for the beginning part of this apology as well it's because of how fast he went to ask tubbo if he forgave him, which did put a certain level of pressure on Tubbo in this situation.

"I mean it wasn't- this wasn't all you Wilbur" (thank you tubbo for finally dispelling some of those misunderstandings)

"Yeah so me and mainly Ghostbur honestly, like-" "Ghostbur" (some more of Wilbur not being too fond of Ghostbur)

"Right is he [Ghostbur] this obsidian crap then I take it and these- these fucking dumb lanterns up here" (a bit more)

To correct Wilbur's misconceptions Tubbo starts off asking if the other knew Dream, to which Wilbur responds with how much he appreciates Dream and how he's his hero, which makes Tubbo backtrack and blames most of Doomsday on Techno and Phil. Which, as we know, isn't actually accurate and I have a feeling that this misinformation will be harmful later on once Dream is out of prison (though I don't blame Tubbo for backtracking with how enthusiastic Wilbur is, that was the basic conflict-avoidant approach that Tubbo seems to prefer).

"They rained tnt for days" (if this is actually canon then Doomsday was even more of a tragedy than we previously saw it as. It was days filled with fighting and destruction. Then again, Tubbo has misremembered traumatizing events before)

"Techno and Phil, they hated the government. I mean it was partially my fault as well" "But you didn't blow it up" "No I didn't. I would never have wished or anything like this to happen" "So it was just Techno and Phil?" *long pause* "Y-yeees"

Two things to say here:

1) I appreciate someone in canon recognizing that it's not Tubbo's fault for what happened to L'Manburg and blaming the people who actually blew it up, similarly to how I appreciate Wilbur bringing up with Tommy that it was clearly Dream pulling the strings with his exile with Tubbo. It's nice having it stated plainly for people to hear

2) This is the misconception I mentioned. This is most certainly gonna backfire at some point.

After that Wilbur commends Tubbo quite a lot for rebuilding New L'Manburg (once again being dismissive towards Ghostbur) and is clearly enthusiastic about it, even going as far as to say that that mattered more to him than them building him a grave.

"I just, I feel lost without L'Manburg. All my core beliefs, everything died with it" "You feel lost without a nation..." "I have no purpose anymore" "I guess that's where anarchy fails" (I think this may be the first time someone admits it to someone else, even though that lack of purpose and feeling disoriented is very obviously a shared sentiment amongst the ex-citizens)

After that, it's when Wilbur invites Tubbo to join Paradise, the, supposedly burger van with a small house attached to it that wasn't supposed to become a nation. I have a feeling that the proposition coming right after that exchange may imply that Wilbur changed his mind on it. He does purposefully put himself again in an elevated position when making the proposition.

"Would you like to come join me in Paradise? Literally" "Hmmm, I'm not sure Wilbur. I'm not sure I trust you man, I need to- in order to follow someone I need to trust them" "Wait, wait but you- I thought you forgave me! I thought it was, you know it-" "Wilbur I forgive you because I like to hang on to the hope that people can change, but-"

This is what I mean when I say that Wilbur's apologies come with expectations for the person he's apologizing to. By asking Tubbo first if he forgave him when he originally apologized, he already made it harder for Tubbo to refute that. And now we learn that he expected trust to come along with forgiveness. He's not doing this maliciously of course, but he does seem to have some misconceptions on this.

"I know you had that- that at the festival? With Technoblade? I never spoke to you properly about this. I- I could have saved you" "But you didn't" (other people brought this up, but this is a neat little parallel to the one scene in exile where Ranboo was lamenting about how he should have gone with Tommy and Tommy shut him down pointing out that anyone could have gone but no one actually did)

There is a second round of apologies and Wilbur is still standing higher than Tubbo, BUT he does put himself on his same level after he did a bit more pushing and found that Tubbo was standing his ground. He finally puts himself on the same level as Tubbo and openly acknowledges his boundaries which is the first actual real effort to change that we've seen from Wilbur. Which I'd say is a pretty important step for him.

"Wilbur in order for you to gain my trust back you have to prove it, I can't just give it out anymore. I used to be able to but I just- I just can't" (acknowledgement of how Tubbo's trauma also affected him deeply)

"You know I still have dreams, right? Of the explosion. And- and of the fireworks. And- and all of it. I- I still- I vividly see all of it. Every day. It hurts. It hurts a lot Wilbur"

I want to commend Tubbo here for being able to open up like this, especially considering how much he generally leans into denial and how much he usually suppress. And on top of that this is Tubbo acknowledging that both Wilbur's actions (the explosion) and Techno's actions (the fireworks) have hurt him and STILL hurt him and affect him deeply. It's quite a big admission especially for him.

"Sorry feels like such a weak word. I feel like there's nothing stronger that I can say" (first time that he's standing on the same level of Tubbo while apologizing)

"You're so strong man. Genuinely. You just- just the fact that you proved to me just there that you have this memories, that you have this nightmares and you still find it in your heart to forgive me. That's... you're a fucking champion man. You- you're a hero"

It's interesting that the reason why he claims Tubbo to be strong here is because he forgave him. It's not something that's inherently about Tubbo, like the fact that he still found the strength to go on and rebuild after the events he mentioned, for example, no. What Wilbur brought up is the one thing that Tubbo did for him. Which tells me that he still clearly has a bit of way to go to learn how to make amends and how redemption actually works, but, you know, that's to be expected honestly.

Wilbur moves on by inviting Tubbo to at least come and see Paradise, just to see what they'd made and Tubbo refuses because he wanted to spend more time reminiscing. Wilbur this time respect Tubbo's boundaries with no pushing which is yet another step forward for him honestly. Wilbur also gives Tubbo a "lucky rabbit's foot" that Tommy gave him to cheer him up and assure him that he had no problems with him not going.

With this their conversation comes to a close and Wilbur and Ranboo head over to Paradise (though not before Ranboo has confirmed with Tubbo that he actually does want to be left alone).

"You know I was gonna say 'this is hard' but obviously it's hard. I mean, you know, I've..." (a bit of reflection on his actions for Wilbur, you love to see it!)

"It's gonna get better! It's gonna get better! And it's gonna be worth it when I see them smiling. All of them. Tubbo, Jack, Niki, Tommy, anyone!" (I'm pretty sure that this is a genuine sentiment right here. It really does seem that wilbur's Big Plan right now is just to make amends and change)

"Do you know who the original L'Manburg group were? Do you know who we were?" "I- I think most of them yeah... I think it was like: you, Jack, Niki, Fundy I believe as well" "Fundy was a bit after. Fundy was after we'd gotten independence"

I wonder if that's an actual misrememberance on Wilbur's part (c!Wilbur, not cc!Wilbur, I'm sure cc!Wilbur remembers this) or just him wanting to put some distance between his good memories of L'Manburg and Fundy. Because Jack and Niki weren't there for the independence war either and yet he singled out Fundy who was. And I doubt that he'd forget about his son being one of the people who lost their first life in the final control room. In addition to that Wilbur didn't mention Fundy before among those he wanted to make smile.

I really think that this was intentional and that it was because, well, Wilbur felt deeply betrayed by Fundy. And we as the audience know that Fundy only ever publicly stopped acknowledging him as his father to be able to stay undercover as a spy, but he doesn't. It wouldn't be so weird that he wanted to erase Fundy from his memories of the time when he was supposed to be happy.

"I try and keep this on the low because I don't want uh- I don't want people to use it against me is the main problem. I do wa- I didn't even tell Tommy, I lied to Tommy" "Yeah?" "I'll be honest I'm gonna tell him soon that I lied to him because if it- it kinda eats away at me. But I told- I told tommy that I didn't actually care about L'Manburg and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain, you know, power and stuff, but it's not- it's not true. L'Manburg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day"

Once again I'm surprised how little it took Wilbur to trust Ranboo with stuff he hasn't really told anyone else. Makes you really understand how low of an opinion of himself he has that when the first person that calls him "alright" out loud just gets his undying trust. Especially considering that Ranboo doesn't trust him back and hasn't been the most honset with him so far. It's also a nice spelled out admission for anyone who didn't get how much Wilbur cares about L'Manburg from the longing look he gave to the camaravan's replica in the stream where he said he never cared.

"I wanted history to live on, not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically took a big shit on the history books it feels like" (just another interesting little insight on Wilbur's view of the situation)

"I've heard about what's Tommy's, you know, moved on... and how jack's moved on, and how Niki's moved on and everyone's moved on from L'Manburg at least partially, but Tubbo man, he's still..." (he only thinks the rest of them moved on because he hasn't spoken almost at all with two of them and he never really listened to Tommy. Also, again, Fundy is not mentioned)

"I don't know where I'd be without you [Ranboo] here right now man, I mean T-Tommy's great and all and he's here but I- I feel like, you know, I don't wanna- I don't wanna string him along too much because he's- I- when I look at him. When I look at him when he's helping me out building things with me I see the same eyes that looked at me when... when... There were some- there weren't some fun times in the ravine of Pogtopia. I wasn't a very well man and I can just see Tommy from that day"

This one was one heck of a confession!

I don't know if this is me misremembering, but I'm fairly sure that this is the first time he's admitted to not being great to Tommy specifically. Again, Tommy is the one person he met with so far that he hasn't apologized to. Heck! He told Tommy to his face that him being sorry for his actions didn't mean he wouldn't do them again. It's a pretty damn big admission to acknowledge that that behaviour (which is the same now, if not worse when only related to Tommy) wasn't good. It also shows that he's at least a bit aware of Tommy's emotions which is rarely shown honestly. Though whether he cares because of Tommy or because being around Tommy makes him feel guilty (which is what you'd expect him to feel) and he doesn't like that is to be determined still, mostly just because the phrasing was a bit uncertain at the moment.

"I know what it's like to have no one- or at least feel like no one trusts you. Uhm, and I- I've realized that if- if no one's with you then how can anyone really know when you've redeemed yourself? So that's why I'm here I guess" (Ranboo's answer to why he trusts Wilbur. Which he doesn't, but still)

And the stream ends with Wilbur saying he hopes Tubbo comes around to try out one of the burgers (though he does repeat that he doesn't want Ranboo to pressure him to join) and complimenting Ranboo a bit more.

[storiesforallfandoms]

man’s world ~ harley quinn;birds of prey

word count: 1965

request?: no

description: every bad guy in town is after harley quinn after the announcement of her breakup with the joker, but harley is about to make a very powerful friend to have on her side

pairing: harley quinn x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of murder

masterlist

There was no need in counting the money given to me. I could tell by the size of the tack that it wasn’t enough. “You stiffed me again.”

Roman rolled his eyes at me. “I told you I’d pay for a clean kill, that wasn’t a clean kill. You’re lucky I paid you at all.”

“What do you mean? How can a kill be any cleaner than arsenic poisoning? I even framed that chemist guy that had a grudge against the target, it’ll never be traced back to you.”

“Sorry, did I say clean? I meant I wanted a messy murder. Your plan was smart, but I love the theatrics of it all. Next time, I want a show.”

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. I really wished I could find a new employer. Roma was the absolute worst boss. He was an asshole misogynist that overworked and underpaid me. But he had a lot of leverage on me, what with me being his hitwoman and all, so until I could find a new employer, I was basically bound to Roman.

“Wait!” Roman said. I sighed and turned back to look at him. “I do have a pretty big job for you. If you do this, I promise you I will pay you in full. A large sum, too.”

“I’ve heard that before, Roman,” I said and turned to walk away again.

He stood from his desk and quickly approached me, grabbing my arm to stop me. I raised an eyebrow and yanked my arm away. Most people were too afraid of Roman to behave like this around him. However, most people weren’t his hitwoman, meaning they didn’t have the dirt on him that I did.

It was a balanced relationship we had, whether Roman wanted to admit it or not.

“I mean it, (Y/N),” he said. “This is a big job. If you do this, I will pay you double, no triple the original price of this hit.”

I should’ve walked away, I could’ve walked away. Roman wouldn’t stop me if I did. But I couldn’t lie, the money sounded good - if Roman actually gave me what he was promising this time.

I sighed and motioned with a hand for Roman to go on. He smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Do you know who Harley Quinn is?”

~~~~~~

It didn’t take long to find where Harley Quinn decided to live after the Joker kicked her to the curb. It was severely under protected, unless you classified a sweet Asian man as “protection”.

He tried to stop me as I made my way to Harley’s apartment. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of Harley’s from Arkham Asylum,” I responded. “I wanted to surprise her, I just got out.”

“She’s not home right now.”

“Even better! It’ll be a big surprise!”

I hurried away before he said anything else. I knew he’d be suspicious, but I trusted him to not tell Harley I was there.

I picked her lock and let myself in. The moment I stepped into her apartment, her pet hyena sat up at attention, assessing the stranger that had just entered his home. I pulled the hamburger I had bought from the bag in my hand and offered it to the hyena. He raced over and excitedly gobbled down the food.

I knelt down to pet his coarse fur. “Good boy. I’ll take you in when I finish with this job.”

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait for her long. Shortly after my arrival, the sound of the doorknob turning alerted myself and her hyena that she was back. I pointed the gun as the door swung open. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hello Harleen.”

Roman’s words - “I want a messy kill” - echoed through my head as I pulled the trigger. Harley quickly jumped to the side, just narrowly avoiding my bullet. She dove behind her couch and I continued to shoot bullets into it, causing feathers and fluff to fly into the air. Harley’s hyena let out a laugh-like bark that was drowned out by my gunshots. When my clip was empty, I quickly changed it to a full one.

Knowing that the gunshots would’ve alerted Harley’s landlord, I quickly crossed the room to her open door and closed it, locking the door and even breaking the knob a little for good measures. I wasn’t going to let this job bust, not with so much money on the line.

“Look, whatever Mista J did to you, I’m sorry!” Harley called from somewhere in the room. “Haven’t ya done your research? He brainwashed me! I only did what he said cause I thought I loved him!”

“Joker never did anything to me,” I told her. “I’m just here on someone else’s behalf.”

“That’s a long list to narrow down,” she responded. “Mind giving me a hint? Maybe an initial?”

I traced her voice to a desk that was turned to face me. This wouldn’t have normally been suspicious, if it weren’t for the fact that the desk was pushed right up against a wall, rendering it technically useless. In the small slit between the bottom of the desk and the floor, I could see Harley’s colorful shoes peaking out.

“Actually, I have a message from him,” I said. “Roman says ‘Good Riddence.”

She must’ve known I had found her, as, just before I pulled the trigger, Harley jumped up from under the desk, successfully launching it at me. The sudden movement startled me enough that my shot lodged itself in the ceiling instead of in her head.

“Oh, Romy!” Harley exclaimed. “Couldn’t even be bothered to come kill me himself? What hurts!”

She dove behind another plush chair as I took another shot at her. I exclaimed in frustration and went to approach the chair. Before getting close enough, Harley raised her hand, which was now holding the white t-shirt she had arrived in.

“Truce!” she called. “Just for one minute, give me a truce. And then you can decide if you want to continue with your killing. I won’t stop you, you ain’t the first to try and off me today.”

Against my better judgement, I sighed and shoved my gun back into the waistband of my pants. “You have five minutes to say your piece, Quinn. I have a lot of money on the line here.”

She popped up from behind the chair like a Whack-A-Mole. She was now in a plush, pink sports bra, her suspenders pulled over it now instead of the white t-shirt she was holding in her hand.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to cash in on a good paycheck,” she said. “I wanted to get a look at ya for a minute. You know, without the bullets and whatnot obstructing my view. I wanted to see if I recognized ya.”

“Why would you recognize me?”

“I frequent Romy’s club a lot. I think he only tolerated me because of Mista J, which would explain why he sent a hitwoman after me when I announced our breakup,” she explained. “You do look familiar. Do you frequent the club, too?”

“I don’t tend to talk with Roman about business in public. It’s not exactly the smartest move.”

“I suppose not, but I’m sure I’ve seen your face there before.” She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Oh! I know! You were there the last time I was! I broke a dude’s legs and you were talking to Romy at the time!”

Oh wait, she’s right. I was there that night.

I could remember well: I had just finished a job. Roman had called me to his club for my payment. I guess he knew I wouldn’t lash out in front of all those witnesses when he stiffed me again. I was furious when he handed me less than half of what he had promised. That job had almost gotten me killed, but he viewed that as a failure. He told me he was debating not paying me at all, but knew I’d walk if that was the case.

His smug as smile as he walked away still infuriated me to that day. I wished I had punched him right in his stupid fucking face, made a scene in his club and announced to the world that Roman Sionis had hired a killer to take down the people he didn’t like. I’d go to prison if it meant Roman went with me.

“Man, you were angry,” Harley said, leaning her arms against the chair and resting her head in one of her hands. “What were ya talking about? Did a hit go wrong or something?”

“Nearly,” I responded, looking away from Harley so she wouldn’t see my anger again. “Listen, I gave you five minutes and they’re almost up, so maybe you should - ”

“He stiffed ya, didn’t he?” Harley cut me off. “I bet he does that a lot. He doesn’t exactly treat his female employees all that nicely. You heard the stories from that singer he has? The Canary? I can’t believe she quit working for him and made it out alive.”

She almost hadn’t. I had to save her ass from Roman that night. It was the night I almost walked out, too. The first time, anyways.

“He’s a misogynistic prick,” Harley hissed. “Thinks women are objects that should be beneath him. I don’t know why you let him treat you like dirt when you do all the dirty work for him. You should be the one stiffin’ him for cash!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I told her. “Being the killer for hire for Roman Sionis, he has too much dirt on me. If I tried to leave, or if I did anything he didn’t like, he could ruin my life in a second. I’m stuck with him until I can know for sure that I’m safe.”

“How do you know you wouldn’t be safe with me?”

I scoffed at her question. “You’re wanted by everybody - every villain, every hero, and every regular pedestrian. You don’t have the Joker to protect you right now. You’re a walking target, being with you is the unsafest place to be.”

“Safer than with Roman Sionis,” she said. “Sure, I can’t pay you top dollar for killin’, but I like to get my hands bloody myself. I ain’t here for this hitman/hitwoman shit. You and I, we could do some serious damage together.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her proposal. Even if it would land me in a world of danger, working with Harley Quinn was a lot better than having to work for Roman Sionis anymore.

“The two of us alone, no matter how powerful or how...psychotic, are not enough to go up against Roman,” I told her.

Harley smiled brightly, knowing that what I was saying was technically an acceptance to her invitation. “Way ahead of you sister! I’ve already recruited Romy’s ex-Canary, and that legendary Crossbow Killer. We’re puttin’ together our own little girl gang.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Sounds like you were prepared for this.”

“Let’s just say, you’re not the first person Romy has sent after me.”

I had a feeling there was a reason Roman didn’t warn me about the first person sent after Harley Quinn.

She approached me and threw an arm over my shoulder, as if we were magically best friends. I looked at her close proximity before looking back up at her smiling face. “I could kill you right now, you know.”

“I know, but you won’t,” she said. “We’re best friends now, and we’re gonna take down Roman Sionis together.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her as she said this.

[ethernetchord]

lets talk: popular iwwv criticism

(disclaimer: i know criticism is subjective and thats why im doing this, i wanna look at some common points made against iwwv and dissect them just a little bit in the opposite direction. also none of this is directed at any individual- it’s all based on the general talking points i’ve seen surrounding the book.)

SPOILER WARNING !!

lack of exploration into james and oliver (+ gay characters feel performative)

i’ve seen loads of people say that oliver and james’ relationship felt very performative, a way of including the queer romnce which clearly is very important to the plot but not actually giving it any space in the novel, nor developing it to the same extent which meredith/oliver was.

oliver and meredith had a very strictly physical relationship and while he did love her, he wasn’t in love with her the way he was with james. the juxtaposition in the way that oliver/james is delivered and the way meredith/oliver is delivered is, i believe, far too repetitive to not be intentional. i actually realised upon re-reading how much focus there really is on meredith’s sexuality, even in subtleties in the book. meredith and oliver get more blatant sex scenes, get more physical parts because oliver was (to an extent) using his attraction to meredith to distract himself from his infatuation with james.

we also have to remember that oliver and james didn’t get their real moment of honesty about their relationship till extremely late into the book. i’d honestly see it as more ‘performative’ to then after or in the middle of kind lear throwing in some wild sex scene between the two. it wouldn't have fit.

“why didn’t james and oliver get together earlier then >:(((“ because the slow burn between them, the subtext, the subtle-ness, the yearning, they were all crucial to the decision which oliver made at the end. the fact that they burned so bright for each other but (oliver particularly) were so desperately repressed, that was what made this such a tragic romance. yes its tiring to read stories about queer people being repressed, yes its tiring to see the bury your gays trope. but like oliver says, it goes beyond gender.

if oliver’s second love interest was a girl, and treated this way, we’d be a lot more on board with these tropes- but the fact that james is a man, and this therefor becomes a queer relationship, makes it feel performative. i can’t convince you of anything- but i like to believe that their relationship being treated like this not only makes it so much more “heart wrenching because why! why couldn’t it work out, why couldn’t it be better!” - not because its a queer relationship but because they were soulmates.

alexander wasn’t performative. not in the slightest, rio just didn’t make being gay his entire identity. same goes for colin. just because they’re queer doesn’t mean it needs to be the only thing about them. this isn’t a lgbt novel- characters dont have to be gay just for plot. they can just be gay.

i’ve also seen people complain about not just making oliver bisexual. guys. did you read the book? he was bisexual. he was emotionally and physically attracted to both meredith and james. guys that’s literally what bisexual means.

i'm totally on board with the coming out scenes! and realisation of feelings and all that stuff- but again, not an lgbt centric novel and also- these were things oliver probably did and realised far before this book. remember that its set in 4th year, at an art school. he knew he was fruity ok. not every queer character in every queer book have to have these grandious coming out scenes or realisations. the lack there of doesn’t equal performance.

the ending was rushed and bad

believe what you will, but i don’t think james is dead. there’s a little too much ambiguity in that ending, in the extract he leaves oliver, in the “his body was never found.” so if your main quarrel with the ending is that “bury your gays” situation- please know there’s a chance- and that giving it that chance opens up so much more discussion and reader response.

yes, the ending is sad. but it’s not rushed. “but that is how a tragedy like ours or king lears breaks your heart- by making you believe the ending might still be happy until the very last second.” doing king lear, doing macbeth, doing romeo and juliet, the plays are chosen not only for reader convenience (they’re plays readers will most likely be familiar with) but also because they all, so very deeply, foreshadow a “bad” ending. killing james, makes sense. as much as people don’t want to hear it, from an authorial perspective- from the reader’s perspective and as a human being it makes sense. why do keep arguing that he “should’ve stayed alive for oliver” or that “if he really loved oliver he wouldn’t have done it” - why are we limiting a character’s entire existence down to their love interest. yes, they were best friends, yes they were set up as lovers but that doesn’t mean that that would be enough to keep james around. james was a fragile character- he was always checking with oliver if he had upset him, he was always worried, overthinking, james wasn’t strong minded- and he was suffering. the only person he had left to depend on was in prison, he was plagued with the guilt of causing the death of a classmate and letting oliver take the blame, if he did kill himself, it sure as hell doesn’t have any reason to sound forced.

“its not nearly as good as the secret history!!!!”

to be honest here buds, why the fuck do we keep comparing them so insistently. they are not the same book. iwwv wasn’t trying to be tsh 2.0, yes there are similarities because hey! guess what! books in similar genres tend to do that! always comparing it tsh when they have different motives, different plots and vastly different execution makes no sense. the only reason that they are compared is because tumblrtm dark academics like to group the two together. and yea- makes sense, but stop trying to belittle iwwv because it isn't as grandiose as tsh, because it’s a little more literal, because it’s not as intertextual as tsh. half the people saying iwwv isn’t as good as tsh are practically just subtly going “shakespeare isn’t as complicated as ancient greek huehue” stop forcing the two together and let them be separately appreciated.

the characters were flat/archetypes/etc

sigh. okay.

these characters are actors. this book shows us their transition from themselves entirely into a conjunction of the roles they’ve played and the stereotypes they’ve portrayed.

“we were so easily manipulated - confusion made a masterpiece of us.”

“for us, everything was a performance”

“imagine having all your own thoughts and feelings tangled up with all the thoughts and feelings of a whole other person. it can be hard, sometimes, to sort out which is which.”

“far too many times i had asked myself whether art was imitating life or if it was the other way around”

“it’s easier now to be romeo, or macbeth, or brutus, or edmund. someone else.”

are you seeing it now? this focus on their archetypes, this focus on the character they are; the way they see themselves not merely as human but as a walking concoction of every character they have turned into and out of. they depend on their archetypes to give them meaning. rio uses these archetypes to remind us of the submersion of her characters. they weren’t flat, their intentional lack of dimension due to their pasts is what makes them so intricate. furthermore, there's an evident subversion- the tyrant becomes a victim, the hero becomes a villain (they all become villains really), the ingenue becomes corrupted. like mentioned before, i think we forget ourselves easily reading this book but there is a great deal of emphasis on this being their last year- which is so important. the damage has been done and a lot of the issues people have with the content (or lack thereof) in this book has to do with the fact that it’s all things that would have occurred in books focusing on previous years at delletcher.

“it didn't live up to expectation” (also leading on from read tsh to this and being ‘disappointed’)

i cant argue this because its entirely subjective. whatever expectation was created for you, i cannot know that and appropriately respond however- if you liked the secret history and understood the secret history then there's a good chance you also liked and understood this book- even if not to the same extent but you must be able to recognize the authorial approach and its significance. i think a lot of ppl read iwwv (and a lot of “dark academia” texts and films) and hope to be able to romanticize the aesthetic or the concepts and then are disappointed when they are presented with mildly unlikeable and overwhelmingly human characters who aren’t easy to romanticize.

a great majority of these books are criticisms of the very culture you’re trying to romanticize, and the only time you’re willing to admit that is when boasting about the ‘self-awareness’ of the people indulging in them, and then a moment later complain about those same qualities because they don’t serve this idealized expectation.

bad rep for arts/liberal arts/ humanities students as being pretentious/cultish

as a humanities student with a great love for eng lit- all of these things are indeed pretentious and cultish. not all the time and not always and not every person- but it is a common theme. academia is overwhelmingly obsessive and extremely white-washed. people become so fast to believe that they are indulging in finer arts and are therefore a higher standard of person. academia is problematic. and the recent influx of people interested in it is good, very good because hopefully, we’ll be more diverse, more open-minded, more accepting. that's what i hope at least. if you know, as an individual, that you’re not a pretentious academic who places themselves above non-academics then that's wonderful- but there are dangers and negative sides to academia that need to be understood so that we can see to not perpetuating them.

i cant refute all points, mostly because there's a lot of good and well-explained criticism because no book is perfect. and my intentions are not to belittle anyone's opinion. these are merely opposing arguments, food for thought and to be fair- a critical look into why not everything is always going to be what we expect of it and why every ‘problem’ can be assessed.

[dontcare77ghj]

Siren

Steve x reader x Thor x Bucky

These humans had kept you captive for months, perhaps even longer, as you had no semblance of time in this prison.

You were born a siren. Raised with a pod of your own kind until these humans had taken you.

You had been stupid to rise to the surface that you now knew. The elders had always warned you against going near the above world because of the human world. The elders never elaborated beyond it was dangerous.

But you were young, and you thought you knew better.

So you had risen. You had dragged yourself up onto a rock and stared at the clear blue sky above you. The stone was warm. Sun was beaming down onto your skin, and for the first time in your life, you watched as your tail split into a pair of legs.

And for those few blissful moments, you felt at peace.

Until the elders surfaced and were glaring at you in full fury.

They had screamed and screeched at you to return to the water or be banished from the pod. You had begged to know why you couldn't be here, why it was dangerous above water.

You never got your answer as you eventually sunk back into the water and felt your legs shift back.

Just as you were all about to submerge and return to the pod, a burning pain entered your shoulder.

An unearthly scream had left you as you gazed at the hook embedded in your shoulder. As you were being forcibly dragged backward, you watched as the elders submerged and left you.

You had been bound, collared, and forced into a tank where you now spent your miserable days.

These humans had known about your kind for decades and were only waiting for one of you to be stupid enough to rise so they could capture them.

Whoever your capturers were, they were experts in their field. They had captured many enhanced people and creatures, as they called you, that were not supposed to exist.

They experimented on you. Every day of your life here was torture, and you felt hopeless. You were trapped in a tank and collared with something that meant you couldn't use your powers against them, and your tail chained to the bottom of the tank.

The only comfort you had was the fact your soulmate was still out there.

Injuries that were not your own continued to appear on your body, and every time you saw one, a flicker of hope began to build.

They were still out there.

Everyone had a soulmate in the world, and the way you could identify them was by your matching injuries.

But not all injuries transferred to one another. Most were more of a phantom pain that you would share, but bigger injuries, larger bouts of pain, were shared.

"Your lip is split." A man in the cell beside you said. "Is it your soulmate?"

"They're always injured." You nodded, gently touching the cut that didn't hurt.

"Look who's talking." Loki snorted. "How long ago was it, darling, that they were cutting you to test how fast you healed?"

"Not long enough." You grimaced.

Loki was the only one in this hell hole you could talk to. There were only three other prisoners left here now. There was a girl who could project nightmares out into the real world, the collar stopped her from projecting, but she was trapped in her own. There was a man who could turn into solid rock but never spoke. And a young boy whose powers you didn't know, but he sat there mumbling prayers to himself all day and night.

A loud clang interrupted the two of you. Your head snapped to the doors to see two guards and a doctor enter the room.

"It'll have to be this one." The doctor said, gesturing to the cell on your other side. "So even if they risk facing the electricity, the bars will be too strong to break." He told the guards. "When we've finished our tests, you'll bring them back here."

"Yes, sir." The guards both nodded and with that, the three left the room.

"Looks like we're going to get some new roommates." Loki shrugged. "And I have no welcoming gift for them, shame."

You weren't sure how much time had passed when the doors open once more. You hadn't thought about your new prison mates since the guards left. Your mind had been too occupied by the pain you felt.

"Get your hands off him!" A blonde male yelled, struggling against the guards holding him.

"Oh, dear," Loki murmured.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Easy now!" A long brunette exclaimed as he and the blonde were thrown into the cell beside you. The brunette rushed to the cell door and held onto the bars. "Mother fucker!" He swore, yanking his hands away.

"All the cells are electrified." You informed them.

Both men's heads snapped towards you, and you watched as their eyes grew wide.

"You have a tail." The blonde said, staring down at your scaled appendage. "

"Forget the tail, Stevie, look. Her lip. Her shoulder." The brunette said, pointing to your scared shoulder. Your hand immediately flew up to cover the ugly scar.

Your eyes narrowed at the two, and before you could hiss something at them, you noticed something very peculiar.

The matching split lips the two sported.

"This can't be real." You muttered, watching the two closely. The blonde tugged his shirt down to reveal the same distinct scar on your shoulder.

"Soulmate." The two said.

"Soulmates." You repeated, confused.

"I guess this means you're also mated to my brother, darling," Loki said, breaking the moment.

Your soulmate's heads snapped to him.

"Loki?"

"How long have you been here?" Steve asked you as Bucky searched for weak parts of the cell.

"I'm not sure." You admitted. "We're not told how long we're here, and time is different from home."

"What is the date, Captain?" Loki asked, standing as close to the bars as he dared.

"October 17th, 2018," Steve told him.

"Y/N was here before I, and I've been here five months," Loki told them.

"How did they get you?" You questioned your soulmates.

"Caught us by surprise," Bucky said, moving to stand beside Steve. "We've been looking for this one since he disappeared." He told you, nodding his head in Loki's direction. "We found a lead and went to check it out. They were waiting for us."

"How did they catch you, Loki?" Steve asked, raising a brow. "And how have they kept you hidden for this long?"

"In all honesty, I don't know." Loki sighed. "I was exploring an occult shop the little witch recommended me, I leave, and the next thing I know, I am trapped in this disgusting excuse of a prison."

"What is the point of this place? They took our blood and some other things." Bucky told them.

"This is a testing facility." You said. "We're their experiments. This stops us from using any of our powers." You told them, tapping the collar that sat against your throat.

"I believe that this collar is why no-one can locate anyone in this facility," Loki added.

"How do we get them off?" Steve demanded as he tried to pull at his.

"You can't." You shook your head. "Only someone not wearing one can remove a collar."

"Shit," Bucky swore, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's fine, Buck. The team will find us. Thor will find us." Steve assured everyone. "We're getting out of here."

"I have been here five months, Captain." Loki shook his head. "Your promises do not inspire hope."

No-one had come. In however long since Steve had made his promise, no-one had come.

But this didn't surprise you. No-one ever came, except for the doctors and the guards.

They always came.

Since the arrival of your soulmates, the three of you had worked on strengthing your bond as best you could. The two told you stories about their lives and their third, your last soulmate, Loki's brother, Thor. In turn, you told them about your past and what you were.

"What do you miss most about your home?" Bucky asked out of the blue.

"The whales." You said with a fond smile. "They traveled all the oceans, and I'd always listen to their stories."

"Did your pod not travel much?" Steve wondered.

"No. The elders always said the pod belonged in one place. We weren't supposed to question them." You shrugged.

"Something tells me you didn't listen to that rule much." Bucky teased.

"There was no reasoning for their rules. No explanation. Who wants to live like that?" You smiled. "What's Thor like?" You asked your two soulmates.

"Kind," Steve said as Bucky said,

"Fantastic."

"He's always joyous," Steve told you. "Always ready for a laugh."

"Stands up for the little guy," Bucky mentioned. "He's going to love you, doll." "I hope so. My interactions with Norse Gods are pretty minimal." You said, looking over at a sleeping Loki.

"So was ours before. Trust us, you'll be more than fine." Steve smiled.

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of the doors being thrown open interrupted you. At the noise, Loki sat up, Steve and Bucky stood, and you watched as the guards made their way towards you.

You tensed when your cell door was thrust open, and three guards approached your tank.

"Watch it." One guard snapped at another who pulled your tank too roughly. "Perkins will kill you if you hurt her."

"What's he care? He's gonna cut her open anyway." A guard snapped, yanking the tank once more.

"Careful, you're gonna-" The guard started to yell, but it was too late. Your tank was jolted forward and smashed against the ground. As soon as you were no longer in a body of water, your legs began to shift.

And now you were laid on the floor, completely naked, clutching a bleeding cut on your cheek.

"Look what you've fucking done, Paul." The guard snapped, reaching down to grab you by the arm.

A loud yelp escaped you as the man yanked you to your unsteady feet and held you tightly against him.

"Get your hands off her!" Bucky shouted, kicking the bars of the cell.

"Ed, look." The third guard said, gesturing to the two men, the two men who had matching cuts to yours.

"Who woulda thought America's golden boy would be mates with a fish?" Ed laughed, dragging you forward. "You think Perkins knows about this?"

"Fuck no. You know, Perkins woulda already set up new experiments if he did." The third man shook his head.

"Maybe it's time he knew," Ed murmured. "D, you're with me," Ed said, opening Steve and Bucky's cell and throwing you in. A grunt left your mouth as you hit the floor before you were in Bucky's arms. "Paul, clean up this fucking mess. And get a new tank." He ordered.

"Shame Perkins won't let us play with the merchandise," Paul said, staring at you as the two other men rushed out. "You look good for a fish." He added as Steve and Bucky growled, and Bucky turned, shielding you from Paul's eyes.

"Here, doll," Steve said, pulling off his shirt and helping you into it as Paul left.

The long-sleeved blue material was soft and fell almost to your knees. In your pod, there had been no such thing as covering up or modesty. Everyone was bare from the torso up anyway, but if this shirt would hide you from the guards prying eyes, you would never be taking it off.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, pulling back slightly to look you over. "How much glass got you?" He questioned, checking your available skin.

"I'm fine." 

"Don't think we can't feel your pain." Bucky rose a brow.

"My feet hurt." You mumbled after a second.

"May I?" Steve asked, holding a hand near them. The blonde gently pulled your feet onto his lap once you nodded. "I can't tell if there's any glass in them, but they're both bleeding."

"It's okay. I'll heal." You promised him. "Hi." You smiled, looking at the two up close for the first time.

"Hi." Steve grinned, taking your hand.

"This is a pretty neat trick, doll," Bucky said, putting a hand on your knee. "They know about this?"

"Yes." You nodded. "They've already done their tests." You added with a grimace.

"We're going to take you away from here, Y/N," Steve promised you. "One way or another, we're getting out of here."

"Hope breeds eternal misery, Captain." Loki interrupted.

"When have you been one to lose hope, Loki?" Bucky asked his soulmate's brother.

"I have not lost hope, Sargent. I am merely trying to warn the woman from putting much stock in the belief of escape. Ask how many bodies she has seen dragged from this place." Loki said, causing you to look down.

Too many.

"We started this mission to find you, Loki. The team will find us, Thor will find us, and everyone in here is getting out." Steve firmly stated.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but it appears we'll have to disagree here."

After Loki's comment, it had gone silent, minus of course, the mumbled prayers of a boy.

The three of you had sat, huddled towards the back of the cell with you still sitting on Bucky's lap.

"I wouldn't go back to my pod." You said, playing with Bucky's fingers. "When we get out. I don't think they'd have me back anyway."

"Why's that, doll?"

"I didn't listen to the elders, and I never passed my rites of passage." You shrugged.

The rites of passage were a series of trials that a coming-of-age siren would complete to show their dedication to the pod. One of those trails was to drown a human.

And that, you couldn't bring yourself to do.

"You can come back with us," Steve told you. "The Tower has plenty of space for you to have a room of your own."

"Or you could share our room," Bucky suggested.

"Or you could share our room. Whatever you're comfortable with, doll." Steve promised.

"I might have to stay close to you three. Seems someones got to make sure you three don't get injured." You teased.

"Trust me, doll, that's all, Steve." Bucky quietly chuckled.

The doors crashed open for the second that day. The three guards from earlier reappeared, along with another three, with two doctors behind them.

"Congratulations on finding each other!" A doctor cheered as the cell door was pulled open, and guards pulled the three of you to a stand. "We've never had two soulmates here before! Let alone three!"

"Really, what a shame we're the first," Bucky muttered, glaring at the guards restraining you and Steve.

"I mean, who would have thought two super soldiers would be mated with a siren? There are so many questions, so many trials we must now have." The doctor rambled as the three of you were dragged from the room.

"Unfortunately for the three of you, these new trials and tests won't be pleasant." The other doctor informed you all as you stumbled on your unsure legs.

"Like anything that's done here is pleasant." Steve scoffed.

"But you know what they say, pain equals progress." The first doctor shrugged.

"Did anyone ever teach about gentle?" You snapped as the three of you were forced onto metal tables and strapped down.

"Or how to treat a lady?" Bucky asked before grunting as his collar shocked him. Both you and Steve made noises of discomfort.

"Small doses of pain can be felt through the bond!" The first doctor cheered as the other wrote it down.

"That was a small dose?" 

"We continue down the scale!"

"Who the fuck taught you what a scale was?" Bucky grunted what felt like days later. "Because that did not go up in a scale."

The two doctors had worked on the three of you for what must have been hours. Blood covered the three of you and dripped onto the floor as you all tried to catch your breath.

"I see your attitude was not affected by the tests." The second doctor scoffed as the first rapidly wrote down his notes.

"We only have one more test for the day." The first doctor said, nodding at the guards who began to set up for the next test.

"You have been alive as long as Sargent Barnes here, haven't you, Captain? Tell us, did you feel it when this happened?" Steve was asked as the doctor trailed his fingers over Bucky's arm.

"What,you're gonna cut our arms off now?" You asked, watching the doctors in a panic.

"Perhaps in time. But we have a much more pressing question for today." He said as a hose was pulled out. "I wonder what would happen to the Captain and Sargent if we cut your tail." He told you, and suddenly you were soaked.

Your legs shifted back, and your panic began to build.

"Wait, no, please, don't do this." You begged, attempting to wrench your body off the table.

"You've done enough testing! You don't need to do this!" Steve yelled.

"This is all in the name of progression." The first doctor said, ignoring your pleas as he sat at the end of the table, a tray of tools beside him.

"There is no progression in this!"

"Roberts begin recording." The doctor ordered. "Beginning test one, removing scales. As recorded before, scales are incredibly tough to remove by tweezers. So we will be cutting them out." He stated calmly before using a scalpel to expertly slice your scales.

A loud scream left you as your soulmates exclaimed loudly in anger and pain.

"Male subjects can feel female's pain even in this form!" The doctor grinned. "Proceeding onto next test!" He said, holding up what looked like the nose of a sawfish.

"If you fucking touch her again, I'll rip your head off!" Bucky yelled as your voice got caught in your throat.

Both doctors ignored Bucky's threats as they continued with their experiments.

Just as the sawfish-looking tool touched the base of your tail when the lights and machines of the room turned off.

"What happened?"

"Must be an electrical short." A guard said, causing Steve and Bucky to laugh as a loud, echoing boom reached your ears.

"Get out there." Roberts snapped to the guards, who immediately rushed outside.

"You're dead now." Bucky laughed. "Nothing's going to save you now." He said as the guards began to yell.

"Perkins," Roberts said, backing up. "I believe it's time to run."

"Run? Never! These are our experiments. No-one can take them from us!" Perkins scoffed before the door boomed open.

There stood a tall blond man. His blonde hair was long and slightly matted with blood, and electricity was dancing on his skin.

"You dare touch my soulmates!" He boomed, raising his hammer as his eyes glowed brightly.

Electricity filled the room, and soon, both doctors were unconscious on the ground.

"Steven. James." The man sighed, rushing over to the closest man.

"Thor." Bucky smiled as Thor began to rip the bonds holding him. "We have someone for you to meet."

"This is Y/N, our other soulmate." Steve smiled, tilting his head towards you. "Y/N, this is Thor."

"Hi." You smiled, teeth stained with blood. "I'm normally not this blood-stained, I swear."

"I believe that. It is wonderful to meet another soulmate, but perhaps introductions are best made once we are out of here." He said as he and Bucky ripped Steve's bonds, causing you and Steve to laugh.

"That's probably for the best." You nodded. The three men made their way over to you, and Bucky pulled the hose away from you, causing you to shift.

"Did you find Loki?" Steve asked the God.

"Aye. We found the prison first, and Loki told the three of you had been taken. He and the others are with the rest of the team." Thor told him as the two helped you to your feet.

You attempted to take a step, but you had never walked on your own before, and so, you began to collapse. You were caught by thick arms and pulled into a burly chest.

"Are you alright, darling?" Thor asked, looking you over in concern.

"I'm fine. Just not very steady." You said, your cheeks burning red.

"Allow me," Thor said, handing his hammer to Steve and pulling you into his arms.

"Thank you."

"Of course. Anything for one of my soulmates."

"Are you trying to give us grey hairs?" Bucky asked, bandaging a cut on Steve's cheek, a cut you all now had.

"I didn't mean to trip, you know, Buck?" Steve muttered, looking down.

It had been two years since you had met your soulmates. Two years since the three had freed you from your prison.

The four of you were on vacation right now. It was the first vacation the four of you had taken together and your first one altogether.

Tony had loaned you one of his many houses, this one by the ocean, much to your pleasure.

"How is him tripping giving you grey hairs, James?" Thor asked in amusement.

"I don't know. It just is."

"I'm pretty sure they have cures for grey hairs, Buck." You mentioned. "You could borrow Clint's hair dye if it really bothers you."

"I'm telling him you said that." Bucky laughed.

"I'll protect you from the archer, my darling," Thor said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

"Good because I don't think Bucky wants to clean up any more injuries. And Clint's a bleeder." Steve said, causing the three of you to laugh.

God, what you would give for it to always be like this.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests.

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[thebookreader12345]

Relationship Rescue

Pairing: Adam Ruzek x reader

Summary: Y/N and Adam’s relationship has been a bit rocky the past few days, and when Y/N gets trapped, and Adam is her only life-line, they’re forced to talk about the issues that have split them up

Requested: No

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of death and bombings

Word Count: 1,362 Words

“Still not talking to Adam?” Kim asked me as I made my way up the stairs and into the bullpen.

“What gave it away?” I question and set my things down on my desk.

“You’ve both been skirting around each other all week. Why don’t you just talk to him and fix whatever’s wrong?” Kim suggested.

“There’s nothing to fix. We just fell apart,” I lie.

“Y/N,” Kim started.

“Kim, just drop it. Please,” I beg. Kim sighed, but nodded and took a seat at her desk, which was right in front of mine. Just as she did, Jay ran up the stairs.

“Guys, we’ve got a bombing downtown. Voight wants everyone to roll on it,” Jay informed us.

“We’re right behind you,” I say and grab my things. Kim followed me down to the parking lot, and we climbed into my car before speeding off to the scene. When we arrived, I saw that the rest of the team was already there, including Adam. We gathered in a circle, and I took up a position between Hailey and Kevin, strapping on my vest as Voight began to talk.

“Okay. We’ve got the area taped off and have a perimeter set up. A witness said she saw a boy, 19, maybe 20, with blonde hair drop off a backpack a minute or two before the bomb went off. He was wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt. I want you all to spread out, case the area, see if we can find this prick. Lets go,” Voight ordered.

“I’m going to go this way,” I tell Kim and nod towards the building that had been hit by a bomb.

“Be careful,” Kim exclaimed as I walked off. My eyes scanned the area as I approached the building, but at the moment, I didn’t see anyone. However, that all changed when a man fitting our description peaked out from the building that was hit. He seemed to be taking in the area, almost like he was admiring how much damage he had caused. Yeah, this was definitely our guy.

“Hey! Chicago PD! Stay right where you are!” I shout at the kid. As soon as the boy saw me, he turned around and took off further into the building. “Son of a bitch,” I mumble and chase after him. I vaulted over the wall of debris at the entrance of the property and continued my chase, following the boy as he turned down new corners. After about a minute, we came to an area that had been hit pretty hard by the bomb. The ceiling was cracking, and rubble was lying everywhere, but I ignored it and continued running. That’s when the boy ran through a doorway and slammed the door behind him. At the same time, I heard a boom echo from outside, causing the whole room to shake. A loud crack hit my ears, and I looked up just as the ceiling began to break away and fall down on top of me. I dropped to the floor, crawled under a desk, placed my head between my knees, and covered my head with my arms as the rocks rained down on top of me.

............................................

My whole body ached, and I could already tell that multiple bruises would be forming on my skin later. I was trapped in a pocket under a huge pile of cement, and while the desk had protected me a bit and allowed me some room, there was no way out. I rubbed the dust from my eyes and glanced around, hoping to spot something that could help me, and that’s when my eyes landed on my radio. I reached out and snatched it off the ground, holding it up to my lips.

“This is 5021 Victor. Can anyone hear me?” I ask into the device. When no one responded, I groaned and smacked the side of it. “Come on. Come on!” After smacking the radio, I held it up to my lips again. “This is 5021 Victor. Does anyone copy?” The radio emitted a static noise, but immediately after, someone began to talk.

“Y/N? Is that you? What’s going on?” Adam questioned.

“Adam, thank god! I was chasing the kid when the second bomb went off, and now I’m trapped. I can’t get out,” I explain.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Adam quizzed.

“No. I don’t think so,” I reply.

“Okay. Good. The fire department is arriving now. Tell me where you are,” Adam instructed.

“Uh, I’m not quite sure. I ran into the building and chased the kid towards the back. I’m in some sort of office room. There’s desks in here,” I recall. For the next few minutes, there was nothing but silence between us, and it got a bit awkward.

“Y/N? You still there?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I’m still here.”

“You doing okay?” Adam questioned.

“Things could be better. I feel like I’m going to run out of oxygen soon, even though I know I’m fine, but I’m still kind of freaking out,” I confess.

“Hey. Everything’s going to be fine. Just think about happier memories. Think about us,” Adam suggested.

“Thinking about you doesn’t make me feel calm! We haven’t talked in days,” I exclaim.

“And how is that my fault?” Adam argued.

“How is it not your fault?!” I counter. “You’ve been ignoring me all week, and whenever I tried to talk to you, you’d brush me off. You’ve been distant, Adam. And if you don’t want to be with me anymore, fine. But you could at least give me a heads up and say to my face that you want to break up.”

“That’s not why I’ve been ignoring you,” Adam admitted. “I’m just going through some stuff right now. After my CI got killed last week, I’ve been thinking a lot about everything: You, my job, life.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that? I would’ve given you space if you needed it,” I say.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems,” Adam stated. Another minute or two passed without either of us saying a word, and just before I could say something, Adam beat me to it. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I murmur and clutch the radio tightly in my hands. Just then, a few of the rocks in front of me started moving, and I pulled my knees closer to my chest. Seconds later, one of the rocks was removed from the pile, allowing some light to flow into my cramped space.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kelly Severide announced and looked through the hole. “You doing okay in there?”

“Yeah. Just get me out of here,” I tell him. 

Kelly chuckled, but nodded. “Will do. Give us a minute.” Slowly, the rocks piled in front of me began to disappear, creating a bigger and bigger hole. Soon, the hole was large enough for me to crawl out of, and when a hand reached down to help me out, I grasped it and let the person pull me out of the rock rile. Right as I was free from my temporary prison, I was pulled into a hug. The feeling of being against the person’s chest was very comforting and familiar, and I knew right away that it was Adam.

“I’m so sorry,” Adam mumbled and placed a kiss on top of my head.

“For what?” I quiz.

“For being distant. I should’ve just talked to you. And if you don’t mind, after we get you checked out at Med, and finish up with work, I’d like to head home with you. We could watch some stupid movies, or just relax,” Adam suggested.

I smiled and looked up at him. “Relaxing sounds great. I just want to get home, take a quick shower, and head to bed.”

“That plan sounds amazing. Come on. Lets get out of here,” Adam spoke and laced his fingers with mine. And with that, the two of us left the building with our relationship in tact, and all it took was for me to be in need of a rescue to save it.

__________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @anotherfan07​

[theultimatefanficwriter]

Pride Month Headcanons!

So its Pride Month! And as a proud member of the alphabet mafia I wanna give my opinion on all the Danganronpa characters' sexualities! So let's go, starting with THH!

Trigger Happy Havoc

Makoto Naegi- Pansexual. I'm under the belief all protags are Pan. Transgender(ftm). So I have this whole hc that the reason his door was jammed was that the lock was quickly removed when they found out SHE was actually a HE and I just like the hc lol.

Sayaka Maizono- Straight. I just think she has a big thing for Makoto, but other than that she cares for her career more than a relationship.

Leon Kuwata- Bisexual, heavy female leaning. I ship him with Hiro, but honestly this fucker would probably take forever to admit he likes guys.

Chihiro Fukisaki- Gay. Dont really have a reasoning. Just my opinion lol

Mondo Oowada- Bisexual. He mentions trying to confess to girls, but come on. This guy is fruity for Taka.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru- Gay. This dude meanwhile is just straight homo. He's probably closeted in fear it would bring shame to his family name again.

Hifumi Yamada- Straight. I honestly dont think about the guy enough to give this enough thought, but the way he simps over Celeste proves he likes girls at least. Plus he kept calling Alter Ego she, so...yeah.

Celestia Ludenberg- Straight. Honestly I think she'd be homophobic? Idk i really dislike Celeste, sorry 😅 She just gives me those vibes.

Sakura Oogami- Bisexual. I wanna label her as lesbian, but Kenshiro exists 😒 Women leaning possibly

Kyoko Kirigiri- Bisexual. Though i dont personally ship her with any girls, I can see her going both ways.

Byakuya Togami- Gay. And it's a problem with his family, so he's closeted.

Yasuhiro Hagakure- Pansexual. He just wants to love someone, man lmao.

Aoi Asahina- Bisexual. Again, wanna label her as lesbian, but the Bad End exists, showing she willingly got with three guys. And she does ask Makoto to pretend to be her bf. But she leans heavily towards females imo.

Toko Fukawa/Genocide Jill- Bisexual. It was straight until she met Komaru. Then she realized "Oh shit. I'm gay." But she still has a small thing for Byakuya ig 😒

Mukuro Ikusaba- Straight. We pretend the thing with her sister doesnt exist, alright?

Junko Enoshima- Straight. And definitely homophobic.

Wow a lot of bi peeps lol. Alright, onto the next game!

Goodbye Despair

Hajime Hinata- Pansexual. Again all protags are Pan. Fight me, prove me wrong you literally cant.

Ultimate Imposter- Panromantic, Nonbinary, Asexual. Though I call Imposter he a lot, I think it's almost canon they're nonbinary. I just have stupid brain and type he first without thinking. I also dont really have a reason for thinking they're asexual? I just think they are. But they're probably panromantic in order to fit their talent better.

Teruteru Hanamura- Pansexual. He's so painfully pan. He even says his options are, and I quote, "pretty open." Dis bitch gay.

Mahiru Koizumi- Lesbian. Dont think I gotta explain myself.

Peko Pekoyama- Bisexual. She's totally dating Fuyuhiko, but I can see her having small crushes on other girls.

Hiyoko Saionji- Lesbian. Also dont think I need to explain myself.

Ibuki Mioda- Bisexual. RAGING bisexual. Also I can honestly see her being Gender Fluid as well.

Mikan Tsumiki- Bisexual. She honestly needs therapy more than she needs a relationship, and she probably doesnt really understand her own labels completely, but I think shes bi.

Nekomaru Nidai- Bisexual. Homeboy was a little TOO eager to be rubbed down by Teruteru 😏 Just kidding, though I do think Nekomaru is bi. No real reason honestly

Gundham Tanaka- Bisexual. He obviously has a thing for Sonia, and in a perfect world(i.e. my perfect world) he would be holding hands with Kazuichi daily. Speaking of holding hands he basically breaks Hajime's in the FTEs. Gay 🥰

Nagito Komaeda- Gay. He's very obviously gay coded, mostly towards Hajime though I dont personally ship that.

Chiaki Nanami- Pansexual. She loves everyone equally. Honestly she probably doesnt put too much work on her labels and would probably go by any pronouns as well, so maybe Gender Fluid?

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu- Bisexual. Like Leon I think it would take him a while to accept he likes guys, and he probably leans towards girls more, but he's definitely fruity lol.

Sonia Nevermind- Pansexual. Our girl fucks. She dont care who, she just FUCKS. 🤣 But seriously, I think she just sees love as love. As she should.

Kazuichi Souda- Gay. Transgender, (ftm). He's so very closeted, so badly even he doesnt recognize it. He probably even has internalized homophobia, probably because of his father. Not sure why I hc him as trans, I just think it fits.

Akane Owari- Straight. She probably doesnt think about it much. All she knows is she likes fighting, meat, and Coach Nekomaru.

Alright and onto the last game!

Killing Harmony

Shuichi Saihara- Pansexual, Transgender(ftm). Its. THE RULE. I didnt make it. Sue me. Also fuck it I dunno I think it fits with his whole character if he were trans. Hard to explain lol

Rantaro Amami- Biromantic, Asexual. I admittedly dont know much about Rantaro, but from what I do know, I think he would fit well with just about anyone. I dont have much of a reason for him being Ace.

Kaede Akamatsu- Pansexual. She was the protagonist first, so the rule still applies lol. But even beyond that it just fits her. Hard to explain, it just seems like it works.

Ryoma Hoshi- Straight, Asexual. I know on my ship list I said I shipped him with Gonta, but theres a reason that ship was so low. I heavily think Ryoma is straight. It's just the vibe I get from him. Maybe hes bi curious, but idk. As for the ace bit, it's really dark. I hc it's because of the trauma he endured during prison.

Kirumi Tojo- Lesbian. Idk I look at her and I think "Lesbian power. Powerful wlw moments." Dont ask me my brain just does things.

Angie Yonaga- Pansexual. She always seemed like she was flirting with Himiko and lowkey Tenko, and in the FTEs she straight up wants to get married to Shuichi so like....I dunno what you want me to say.

Tenko Chabashira- Lesbian. Literally no explanation needed.

Korekiyo Shinguji- Pansexual. Putting aside the....obvious....he finds all of humanity beautiful, so he most likely doesnt have a preference when it comes to choosing a partner. Just like with Mukuro we pretend that entire plotline never happened.

Miu Iruma- Pansexual. I see her as pretty open to everyone....Yeah. That's all I got.

Gonta Gokuharu- Bi-curious. Honestly I dont think Gonta knows what he is himself. He probably hasnt given it too much thought, if hes given it any. The best I can think of is bi-curious, assuming hes currently exploring his sexuality.

Kokichi Ouma- Gay. I dont ship him with anyone cause I personally think he'd be a bad partner to anyone he got with based off of his personality, but yeah. He gay lmao.

Kaito Momota- Pansexual. THE LUMINARY OF THE STARS IS FOR EVERYBODY! Probably took a while for him to admit he wasnt straight, but then he admitted it with his whole heart, precious thing.

Tsumugi Shirogane- Straight. Fuck I dunno I dont think about her in a positive light enough to care. Sorry I really tried 😅

Kiibo- Panromantic, Genderfluid, Asexual. Like Imposter, I've called Kiibo he all the time, including every story I put them in, but technically they have no gender. So that does make them nonbinary, but at the same time it leaves the opportunity for them to go by any pronoun they want, so I hc they go by all of them lol. I also think they just love everyone, and for the ace bit, unfortunately, robots probably dont have dicks 😔 Even if they did, I dont think he would be very interested in sex.

Himiko Yumeno- Lesbian. Despite her treatment of Tenko, her reaction at the end of chapter 3 shows she cared for her, and Angie. She probably loved them both, so, lesbian for sure.

Maki Harukawa- Straight. Kaito was probably her first ever crush, so I doubt she ever had a chance to feel out if she was anything other than straight. Even disregarding that, I dont think she'd be anything else.

Alright and those are my headcanons for all the Danganronpa characters! As a bonus, I think Komaru Naegi is a Lesbian! No real reason other than Tokomaru is top tier lol.

Now remember these are my opinions! If you dont agree that's fine! Just be kind!

And HAPPY PRIDE EVERYONE! 🥰🏳️‍🌈

[cregla]

/rp I can see the appeal with the "Dreamon" storyline, the one where it has possessed Dream since at least Manberg vs Pogtopia. I really see it. Because Dream, even when he was against Tommy and Wilbur, was still... Dream. Their dynamic is wonderful. Fun and amazing. You can still see it in Exile when Dream is faking a friendship with Tommy in order to manipulate him more - and that's because while they're still acting, CC!Dream is friend with CC!Tommy and THEIR dynamic is wonderful. It automatically translate in us having a good time whenever they're on screen together (well... we didn't have a good time during exile or the prison, but you know what I mean). People want it back. They want Dream to be able to roleplay alongside the other like he did before, and I undertstand it! Dreamon!Dream is the easy way out of it. And I can totally see it in fanfictions and fanworks. In canon, however? It would be so harmful.

A very long post, please follow me.

C!Dream is an abuser. It's a completly different character from what his CC actually is (duh), in a way no other characters are in this SMP. C!Dream is an abuser, a murderer, and someone who did REALLY bad things and still thinks he was right all along. A person like this NEEDS to be punished (and I'm not entering in the "prison" discourse. Regardless of the prison conditions, Dream still deserves to be imprisoned) and the story NEEDS to give him consequences for his actions. People need to know that he's the bad guy and what he did was wrong, regardless of our own appreciation of the character (appreciation, not apologism). And the character especially work because he's a REALISTIC representation of abusers. Sure, he as an axe and potions and there's the whole PVP and Minecraft gaming system to take on, but in the end? Dream is just a guy. When Dream abused Tommy he did it with isolations, gaslighting, threats of death and beatings and actually beating him, lies. It's something any abuser in the real world, even without potions, could do. It's something abusers do.

To say that Dream was "possessed", to give every fault to a "Dreamon", is to erase this. Because it's not a person anymore, it was a demon controlling that person! And demons don't actually exist in real life. It's not Dream's fault anymore, guys! ("But Nate, stories shouldn't only educate people! We can have bad things in our stories if it makes them good!" While that is true, DSMP is a medium followed by very young teen and even children and the CCs themselves said that they had researched about real life abuse to be more accurate possible, therefore it's not the same as, I don't know, a fanfiction or another media that wasn't made with this intent)

And what about Tommy? He already feels guilty for things that are not his fault. Putting a possessed, innocent Dream in prison? That would break him. Knowing his personality he would totally, 100%, believe himself to be at fault because he "had" to realize what was really going on. He would feel so guilty near Dream while it should be the exact opposite. And then what? He couldn't, of course, blame Dream anymore. But he would still be fighting his own PTSD - do you believe he would be able to start a friendship again with Dream? No, no he wouldn't. And both characters and viewers, who are so critical of Tommy for ANYTHING, would give him hell for this, not realizing how PTSD works.

One of my favourite fanfiction in this fandom, if not my favourite one, has Dreamon!Dream. And yet, let me show you a paragraph of one of the last chapter (here is the link to the story, btw.)

Then he shakes his head and Sam asks the question he’s been dying to know since he first saw Dream in his little museum, “is that why you destroyed your family? Why you turned on all of us?”

And suddenly, Dream is laughing that horrible, broken laugh, one of pain and malice. It hurts Sam’s heart and he wonders if he can go back to his mother, if her arms will warm the ice spilling down his neck.

“No, Sam,” Dream says and the voice is harsh, hoarse. “No, that was all me.”

The story explain Dream's motivations. It gives him a backstory and an explanation on why he ended up like this and why he did so many bad things. But it never justifies him. And, above all, specifies that even if Dream may have a "redemption arc", it will be something personal, or connected to his friends. Tommy, Tubbo and all those he has harmed are not forced to accept his apology, whether it is sincere or not.

That's the only way I could see a Dreamon storyline in canon, honestly. Handled with care and never used as a way out of Dream's actions. And even there, we know how most of the viewers are. We know how Dream's apologists are, how everyone's prone to victim blaming in this goddamn fandom. The CCs may handle it PERFECTLY. And yet people would still misuranderstand it. I'm 100% on with Dreamon in fanfiction and fanworks. Even if you're using it to have Season1!Dream back, even if you want to completly excuse Dream like this. But in canon? No thanks no. I dread the day we might discover that's the storyline. Please, no.