#thinking thoughts and spitting them into the void

[bungletheglasscat]

Usually when I do art, I end up feeling bummed out that what I made didn’t match what was in my head. But I finally gave myself the freedom to just noodle around while drawing and ended up creating something I’m proud of. And that, I think, is a really great example of how having one specific goal in mind can create a lot of pressure that ultimately hinders progress. It’s ok to figure stuff out as we go along. Build the plane as you take off.

Anyways, here’s the happy little guy I drew. He might be a dwarf. Or a gnome

[akkivee]

like they updated everyone’s bios in october of last year and imo just saying kuukou speaks vulgar as hell and doesn’t act at all like a monk does plenty to show he’s got an attitude problem in his old bio so why change it to something that can be transliterated as ‘violent criminal behaviour towards others’ if you weren’t about to focus on it 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[lemmetreatya]

librarian!eren who knows he’s being sinful every time he watched you come in; his eyes always drawn to the extensive collection of oversized hoodie and biking shorts you wore.

how librarian!eren quickly realises that you’d only come at vacant hours, where the benches are cleared and the library finds itself void of other occupants — bar librarian!eren of course.

or how you occasionally make conversation with librarian!eren because he’s the only one there. even worse, because he’s a night shift worker and they only need one person on staff for ratio (okay but who the fuck keeps a local library open past six?! — it’s not like this was NYPL for people to be coming in at ungodly hours) but alas, there were budding learners, like you, who always seemed to make good of the toxic hours and used them accordingly.

well, on most nights, that was.

as librarian!eren is packing a few of the return books back to their rightful place, he peaks past a pillar and almost drops the 1st edition fantasy book that was over 150 years old.

because no fucking way were you doing what he thinks you were doing.

automatically he feels his dick jump within his boxers and he panics, because librarian!eren still has four hours of his shift to go — theres no way he could get through it bricked up. for the sake of his own sanity, he has to think chaste thoughts; like cute bunnies and purple frogs.

but no matter how many times he looked and tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t deny your hunched over position, cocked leg perched onto the bench and the sound of petty moans mixed with sizzling vibrations.

librarian!eren thinks to himself how on earth he’s going to go about this. ignore it and save your pride? or enforce justice and escort you out. it doesn’t help that he’s warring within himself but after a heated mental debate, he enters the battle field.

“sorry, but that counts as public indecency.”

and you gasp up at eren, startled, because never did you think you’d ever be caught — especially concerning all the other times you’ve gotten away with it. but now you panic because you couldn’t get a criminal offence to your name, not this term!

but despite that, librarian!eren has a different tactic to how he can implore justice.

someway, somehow, you end up with your toes hovering adjacent to your ears as librarian!eren wets his dick inside your squidgy pussy, his smile demonic as he presses your adorable rose bud to the meaty bean of your clit.

it’s disgusting and it’s weird because at some point you’re begging your local librarian to spit in your mouth and for him to make out with you whilst possessing a cum filled mouth, but he complies all the same. at the end of the day the both of you won.

you tell librarian!eren that you enjoyed the time and would definitely do it again, but apparently you had a thing against the familiarity of second times. either way, librarian!eren doesn’t care. he’s more than happy to go back to doing his work.

librarian!eren can’t believe what’s transpired tonight, but either way, he knows it wasn’t no scenario any book could make up.

[seattlesellie]

i have a request!! i had a thought yesterday and imagine ellie coming home to you complaining about your hurting tits and at first she’s like kind of concerned yk so she gently asks you to let her see but then she gets turned on and starts to play with them and stuff djdksksk i need her so bad

painkiller.

warnings: mentions of reader having pms, afab reader, smut (minors… please don’t), tit play obviously, slight spit play as well, pathetic caring dom ellie, masturbation (e)

an: i really am a sucker for ellie taking care of u when ur feeling unwell :( just makes me feel fjjsjdjs and i can’t even imagine how comforting she it. btw i had farm ellie in mind (don’t i always) 💗 i’m kinda on the fence with this one but i’m writing dbf abby n needed a break<3

although the sun has sunk, and the dark blue skies are veiled by a shroud of dark clouds, the heavy and sultry august heat managed to creep itself through your window, nevertheless. the white wine in your glass — the 'chenin blanc' to be exact, has lost all of it’s docile sweetness all of a sudden, succumbing to an unpalatable acrimony. even the book that’s half opened, resting on your knees; seems devoid of interest, and you’re left there, sat on the couch, accompanied by another painful groan escaping from your lips, and a dull ache settling within your body.

it just is one of those days. 

you bring your trembling hand lower, finding solace against your chest. with a slight opening of your quivering bottom lip, you whine through clenched teeth. you gulp, gingerly placing the wine glass upon the table, and rest your eyes shut. “hurts…” you whimper into the void, cupping your right breast and attempting to soothe and massage it. your touch, albeit is nothing but soft, manages to make it ache even more. you squeeze your eyes in despair, and a fat tear flows down your cheek. you wipe it away, followed by a hushed but tormented hum.

five minutes manage to pass by, and just as you teeter on the precipice of sleep, an insistent stab of pain jolts you awake. the pain slyly creeps around, wends its insidious path, and ‘rests’ down on your lower back, your hips, and then finds home on your breasts again. a pain killer could help, perhaps, but you’ve already taken two, and mixing it with wine, albeit only half a glass, would be quite a bad idea.

“this… SUCKS!” — you groan, and maybe god could hear you and fix it, if only you were loud enough.

then, your ears twitch at the subtle creak emanating from the keyhole. after that, the wooden door opens. you were thinking about god hearing you, and somehow ellie managed to appear. you’d entertain her with that amusing little thought, but all you can mutter after her relieved “hey, babe” — is a rather pathetic hiccup. ellie walks intently towards you, eyebrows knitted tightly, the staccato rhythm of her rough boots echoing upon the wooden floor, and she walks almost as if she found a wounded fawn in the middle of a dirt road.

your eyes remain firmly sealed, your limbs limp and listless at your sides, and even though you can’t see, you can tell she’s crouched down in front of you. ellie inhales deeply, and places both of her rough hands on your thighs. “hey… whats wrong?” she asks, her voice husky and thick with concern. god — does hearing that caring tone make you want to sob even harder. it tugs at your heartstrings, and you don’t respond. “talk to me… please… uh, let me get you some water?”, and with another hiccup leaving your lips, ellie nods to herself and almost walks away to the kitchen. helplessly, attempting to make her stay, you grab her wrist and sniffle away. “hurts…” you cry, and your eyes flutter open, meeting her worried gaze. her eyebrows are furrowed and her eyes are travelling from your own orbs to your cheek, her hand lifting up to wipe a measly tear away.

you love her so much you think you might scream.

ellie caresses down your thigh now, then down your knee, and then travels further down to your ankle. she plants a tender kiss there, and then on your wrist, waiting for you to reply. “baby, answer me… i… hate seeing you like this” she pleads.

as if on cue, the sharp pain strikes again, like a gentle lightening bolt, shooting through the bottom of your left breast. “think i’m… about to get my period, i dunno… everything hurts” you admit, sniffling. “i’m dramatic, sorry…” you whisper softly, and ellie sighs, shaking her head. “not dramatic, babe… i mean, you know how i get… you cry, and i break stuff… if we really think about it, i'm the dramatic one” she chuckles, tilting her head to the side. she has some light bags underneath her forest green eyes. she must have had a long, exhausting day at work — and here you are sobbing because your boobs hurt. you pout slightly and manage to let out of a small, exhausted giggle. “you don’t break stuff…”, ellie arches a brow and smirks. “no? what about that vase in the bedroom?” 

she's… half right. she didn’t break it on purpose, she was kicking the drawer because she felt like “there’s a demon", on her “cursed fuckin’ useless lesbian uterus” — so the wooden furniture shook, leading to the vase's demise, and it shattered into countless tiny pieces. then, she bought a new vase that didn’t fit the room at all, but you kept it nevertheless. 'ellie’s apology for being an asshole vase' is what she called it, and how could you dispose of such a thing?

it’s corny, really, but you somehow managed to forget you were even crying in the first place. “t’was an ugly vase”, you murmur. ellie plants another small kiss on your thigh and you nearly purr. “you liked that vase, liar”, she teases.

you sit in cozy cocoon of silence, ellie's anecdotes and workplace stories become a soothing distraction. she's careful, almost calculated, as she takes note of every smile that graces your face instead of a wince.

it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

you laugh and giggle, until you don’t. another bolt of striking pain hits your breast. you mewl, and ellie immediately ceases her sentence. “stomach?” she asks, her hand descending to rest on your lower abdomen. her palms are big and warm, and if it did hurt, you’re more than convinced her touch will make it go away. “um… no…”, and although her touch there is comforting, it’s not where the real ache lies. “where?” ellie asks, now lifting herself up and sitting right beside you. she moves the half opened book to the side, scoffing. “that book sucks, by the way… ass story” 

maybe it wasn’t just you.

she caresses down your shoulder, squeezing in affection. “where does it hurt, babe? your back?” she inquires and you hiss again, flinching in pain. “no uh…” you whisper, and then lower your chin, as if you’re attempting to signal ellie to where the pain really stays. she lowers her gaze, blinking thrice before looking up at you. your eyes are glassy and it makes her heart melt and ache. such a pretty crier, and for what? she wonders. “uh… my… y’know… my boobs… they jus’ feel heavy” you whine, your voice a soft, pitiable whisper. ellie takes her bottom lip between her teeth. “poor thing, huh?” she rasps. “owh… hate them…” you mutter, holding a breast between your fingers.

ellie chuckles, trying to seem undistracted by the way your hand is cupping your breast in despair. her poor girl… and her poor tits… — but she still is, worried about you. and she really does care, so she pushes that negligible thought to the side. “well, i like them”, she rasps quietly and cocks her head. “uh, y'know, a lot” she remarks, and she really isn’t trying to turn you on, just distract you again. 

you wrestle with a mischievous smile, damp and sticky eyelashes closing in despair. the juxtaposition is absolutely unheard of — the small river flowing down your cheek, and the smiles that keep involuntary appearing. “just like? you don’t love them?” you playfully prod, and then hiccup when you feel the ache smite again. ellie chuckles and wipes another tear with her calloused palm and not with her finger, and then let’s out of a throaty chuckle. “no i… i love your tits very mu—“ her words are cut short, as she notices you biting your lip, attempting to stifle your laughter. she shoves you playfully and rolls her eyes. “fuck you babe… if you see me blushing, ignore that shit, i swear to god, i’m posessed” — she insists, as if she doesn’t blush when kiss her lips in the morning, as if she doesn’t blush when you get dressed or undressed in front of her, or when you hold her hand and introduce her as your girlfriend.

she’s a raging, awkward blusher and she needs to come to terms with that.

you snigger, but the pain however — is still there. “owh…” you hiccup, and as soon as that thought creeps inside ellie’s mind, she swallows, no — gulps, and places her palm gently on your breast. then, she holds you by the back of your neck and makes you look up at her. “can i help you, babe?” she questions, a quivering breath following her query. your lips part, and you want to say “yes”, it's echoing in your thoughts, but all that comes out is a small sigh of relief. it nearly makes you tremble, your own hand never felt that good. you nod slowly, and ellie nods with you. “just… a little massage, yeah?” she rasps, tongue moistening her bottom lip. all she needs to do is help you find relief from that dull, pinching ache, but all she yearns to do is make you whimper out again. god, ellie…

“close your eyes… i got you” she comforts sympathetically. although her voice is commanding, you don’t follow her demand, because the way her tatted forearm flexes when she spreads her fingers on your breasts, makes you want to watch and be an audience of that glorious show forever. ellie follows your eyes, and then her own — fall down on your aching breasts. “gonna take your bra off… that ok?”, she asks, as if she doesn't already know the answer. you shut your eyes involuntarily, when her finger strokes down on your clothed, aching nipple. “i got you”, she repeats, and as soon as you know it, your bare but swollen breasts are loose, and on full display. they hurt still, but the relief is apparent on your face. ellie bites her lip, and thank god your eyes are closed, because her pupils grew twice in size, and she doesn’t want it to be sexual but she can’t help it when you’re so…

“i really do love them…” she whispers but it's simply to herself, albeit your ears catch it and you “hmm?” in response. “nothing, relax, close your eyes… gonna let ellie take care of you now, yeah?, deep breaths...” — the warmth inside your stomach spreads, and it feels like sweet and sticky lava. you hum, sighing in relief, followed by a small hiccup of pain or… arousal, as soon as ellie takes both of your breasts in her hand and begins kneading them together. it’s all very gentle, albeit her wheeze sounding breaths. when her thumb caresses your nipple, you flinch in the slightest and ellie picks up on it. “right there?” she questions, and when you find her thumb on your swollen nipple again, it’s wet — she licked it, brought her digit inside her mouth and sucked. ellie begins circling the puffy nob, now wet and glistening with her saliva, and your hips buck forward. she hums, “still hurts?” — you want to shake your head no, because it really doesn’t feel like it’s hurting any more, at least not in a bad way, but you nod your head instead. “awh…” she coos, nodding her head again, with you. when ellie hears the small whimper that escapes your mouth, she chuckles. “really… really hurts, pretty girl?” she teases, still keeping her touches light as a feather and nothing but gentle. “yeah… hurts, ellie”, you whisper, and ellie sighs and hums. she traces faint circles on both of your nipples, “think i need to work harder then… huh, poor baby?”, she mutters underneath her breath.

when her hot mouth latches itself onto your nipple, your chest all but buzzes and heaves. a moan that you can’t bring yourself to suppress leaves your mouth, and ellie groans in response. her tongue forms small circles on your nipples, both of her hands still kneading the flesh, lifting it up and then dropping it down. her index and middle finger squeeze your nipples together underneath her tongue and you wince, a small broken sob coming from deep within. she milks the pain away, and if it was perhaps in liquid form, you could say you were sucked dry. “shh, shh…” ellie murmurs. she attaches her mouth back on the nob, now suckling it in and out of her needy, hot mouth. "uh-huh... let go for me", she whispers, gently flicking a nipple up and down.

every time you whimper and cry, she has to squeeze her thighs together — because my god do you tits hurt but her cunt aches even harder.

when ellie takes your nipple out of her mouth, you let out of a small gasp. she wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, and takes a moment to admire the work of art sitting in front of her. your eyes, closed shut. your bottom lip, in between your teeth, and your breasts — covered up, glistening with her warm saliva. “jesus, i…” she murmurs under her breath. you push your chest forward, an attempt of showing her you’re begging for her mouth again, “hurts, please… ellie, help” you mewl, and with a grunt followed by a whimper, ellie latches on to them again. you open your eyes slowly, looking down at her through wet eyelashes, and when you see her — her eyes are intently shut, her mouth devouring you, forehead covered by sweet beads of thin sweat. “just wanna help you, just… wanna help” she whispers, her tongue pathetically hanging out of her pouty pink lips.

the desire to take her unoccupied hand, and give it a small kiss is strong, but you quickly notice — it is nothing but unoccupied. it’s shoved down her pants, moving with fervour and want. when she opens her eyes and sees that you’re looking, she whimpers a blocked but high pitched sound.  “hurts for me too”, she pats her palm directly on her achy cunt, and it might be unconventional pain-reliever, but perhaps... your ache flowed into her.

<3

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

[maybankswhore]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.

SUMMARY: jj has always had a tiny crush on you that he never acted on because john b had gotten to you first. . . but one drunken night at the boneyard gives him a taste he can’t forget.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader , (est) relationship!john b x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: semi dark!jj maybank , naive reader , mentions of alcohol and weed , slight manipulation on jj’s part , coercion , infidelity , p in v , unprotected sex & creampie , choking & spit kink. ( for context , reader does play stupid for the most part. also , her and jj are on the same level when it comes to the alcohol they’ve consumed. reader is consenting though she tries playing dumb. )

There was nothing more that JJ valued more than his friendship with John B.

Their friendship had been un–breakable since the minute they met. The memories the two of them had together would forever be cherished , and JJ would always find himself thinking back on them fondly. It had been the two of them through thick and thin since the beginning of time.

But God , it was the way the alcohol flooded his bloodstream and hazed his mind that threw all his morals out the window. Your back against his chest as you moved sensually to the beat of the music , his hands gripping the forbidden skin of your hips tightly to hold you in place.

John B had been drunk out of his mind. Kiara and Pope had already left. Though it wasn’t out of the norm for you and JJ to be the last ones standing. The both of you loved to party and had a high tolerance. In fact , they felt less guilty leaving places early knowing that the two of you would have eachother.

Yet they didn’t realize the dirty little fantasies that plagued JJ’s mind. The three of them would never think anything more than JJ being taken to you just for the fact that John B loved you— and you were just another one of the Pogue’s. . .

Somewhere the night had shifted. One minute you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye sweetly and dancing around the beach playfully. It was just an innocent night like every other night had been— until it wasn’t.

JJ hadn’t meant for it to get like this. He didn’t know if it was the weed he had smoked or maybe it was one too many beers , but he took one look at you from across the beach and everything in his mind had disappeared. JJ couldn’t even remember his bestfriends name at that point. You weren’t someone elses girlfriend then. You were a girl across the beach that was beautiful. The most beautiful girl. Sweating and laughing as your hips moved rhythmically.

His feet were taking him to you before he could even think about it. You had greeted him with the most breathtaking smile and his knees felt weak. It was then that time moved slower , and your hands grabbed his and that’s when things changed. JJ completely voided his mind of anything but you. But how you danced , how good it felt to snake his arms around your waist and feel how smooth it was on the exposed parts of your hips. His eyes soaking in the sight of you underneath the moonlight while yours were shut while you danced.

JJ felt almost devilishly as he planned the whole thing out in his head. Leaning forward and asking to steal you away for a few minutes to smoke a joint. He knew you’d never refuse that.

His hand in yours , JJ had pulled you somewhere to the back of the beach. It was a secluded spot , one he had known about from previous experiences that he couldn’t even remember then. You giggled and laughed as you followed him , always finding JJ someone that you felt good around.

It happened like clockwork then. It was silent at first. His stomach in knots and nerves as he lit up the preroll , feeling bashful underneath your gaze. You hadn’t thought much of it and bumped your shoulder against his as he handed it over. “I’d never thought I’d see the day JJ Maybank had nothing to say.” You said , meaning to ease the tension.

JJ glanced over at you. His eyes meeting yours in a weird way. A way that the color of his eyes darkened and they looked at you differently. It made your stomach feel weird , almost flip at it. Blinking off guard , you looked towards the waves hitting against one another. “That’s the thing—” JJ started , taking his turn of the joint back and inhaling it a few good times before speaking again. “I have too much to say.”

As he passed it back to you , his fingers brushed against yours. You weren’t sure if it was the wind that was nipping at the two of you underneath the night sky— or the beads of sweat drying , but your spine danced at the feeling. It made you take a shaky breath now that the air was becoming thick. Though you kept telling yourself that it was the beer from earlier and the drugs entering your system. That this was just JJ. You felt normal. It felt the same as it always did.

Yet even then that didn’t soothe the turns in your stomach. Not with the way he looked tonight. Hair disheveled away from his face , giving you a clear view to his bright eyes and apple round cheeks. JJ had always been a good looking guy— everyone in Outer Banks knew that. But you had met him and everyone told you just what he was. . . a Rogue. He didn’t date. He wasn’t one to be in love and you took their warnings to heart and stayed away.

Pushing you into the arms of John B.

John B. . .

The brief moment of attraction towards the blonde suddenly made you feel sick with guilt.

JJ must have seen the expression on your face change. He swallowed before talking again. “Can I ask you something?”

Sighing , you took another hit to ease your nervous system. To try and make you mellow out and to stop thinking so quickly at one time. You were overthinking and over analyzing. “Anything.”

JJ rubbed at his jaw. “If you weren’t with. . . you know—” he couldn’t bring himself to say his name out loud. Knowing what he was doing and what he was playing at. Guilt burned at his throat but he ignored it. It was easy to ignore when he looked at you. “Would you fuck me?”

His question made you gasp audibly. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and surprise as you watched JJ’s face which stayed still. “JJ! What the hell kind’ve question is that?”

JJ shrugged. Seemingly playing it coy. “It’s just a question. Doesn’t mean you’ll do it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Well of course I wouldn’t do anything! I’m with John B.”

“But if you weren’t with him is what I’m asking.” JJ shrugged. “It’s nothing serious , Y/N/N. Jus’ curious is all.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Your cheeks burned bright pink and you hoped he couldn’t see the color with how dark it was outside. You pushed the joint back into JJ’s hands and moved to stand up but he caught your wrist just as quick— “JJ.” You warned.

“I’m sorry , swear.” JJ begged. He pleaded with you his eyes , bottom lip out as he did so. “You know I say things without thinking sometimes. Don’t go yet. I’m not finished.”

Everything inside of you was telling you staying would be a bad idea. It was deep within your gut. But as you chewed your bottom lip and the wheels turned in your head , JJ casually leaned back on the rock and continued smoking like everything was fine. . . And so , you did the same.

“You can’t say things like that you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because. . .” you stammered over your words. “Because that’s inappropriate , okay?”

JJ nodded slowly. “So no then?”

“What?” You couldn’t help the incredulous expression on your face at JJ playing it so cool. Like this conversation wasn’t disrespectful to not only your relationship but also his friendship to John B.

“You wouldn’t fuck me.”

His sentence yet again made a sound of surprise leave your mouth. Suddenly feeling flustered at what felt like an ambush. “JJ—”

JJ shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean , I’m not offended. I wouldn’t fuck you either.”

His words seemed to sting. You wasn’t sure why it did— but it had and had left you questioning. “What? Why are you even— and why not?”

“Because you’re probably boring in bed.” JJ giggled. The weed he smoked helping him feel warmth as he sat there. His head lazily turning towards you.

You scoffed at that and crossed your arms. “That’s quite rude! And I’m not boring.” You defended yourself. It was silly and JJ had a knack for teasing.

JJ put his hands up defensively. “Okay , whatever you say.” He smirked , finding it amusing to push your buttons. Of course , he had thought the exact opposite. But playing this game was much more fun than the other option , and he knew you. He knew you’d crack. He was hoping you’d crack.

“I’m not! I mean. . . doesn’t John B ever like—” you assumed that boys would be boys and talk with eachother the way you did with Kiara sometimes. Surely John B would’ve mentioned something about it once or twice.

“Talk about it?” JJ quipped. “Nah , not really.”

It wasn’t the answer you were hoping for and deep down it had made you start feeling a little self conscious. Were you boring? As soon as the question came , you shook your head to rid yourself of it. The sex with John B was good. It was always good. JJ was just trying to get into your head.

“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m not boring.” You snapped.

JJ nodded slowly. “I mean it’s okay if you are. As long as you know , can kiss good enough then that’s all a guy really needs to get off.”

You squirmed in your position. Your cheeks felt warm and this whole conversation was out of the ordinary for you. You and John B didn’t really talk much about things like this and you and JJ certainly never had before either. Though it had sparked some curiosity within you. “Really?”

“Totally. That’s the biggest thing for me when I’m with a girl.” JJ responded. “Kissing is the determining factor.”

You shook your head up and down slowly and thought it over. Without saying anything in return , you’d hope that JJ would drop it but instead he scooted closer to you. So close that his shoulder brushed against yours softly. Just enough space in between the two of you that they didn’t bump into eachother , but close enough to where anyone looking in would deem it too close.

“You kiss good , right?” JJ wondered out loud. His voice dropping down to almost a whisper. Softly spoken. You kept your eyes straight ahead while his eyes were burning holes into the side of your face. “I mean , I’d hate my boy to be with a bad kisser.”

“I—I am.” Your voice shook. You fisted the sand in your hands underneath you. “I mean. . . I think.”

“Hmm. . .” JJ nodded. Testing the waters , he leaned closer to you. The smell of your vanilla shampoo filled his nose as it lightly touched the skin of your cheek. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the feeling. “I could tell you—” he swallowed harshly. Bundling nerves right in his abdomen. “If you were , I mean.”

Laughing nervously , you tilted your head away. You tried to ignore how it made you feel. That how close he was made your heart race and your skin burn , like the idea of kissing JJ was anything but repulsive and wrong. This was wrong. You not stopping it was wrong but you couldn’t. For some reason , you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave or tell him it to stop talking. Deep down , a part of you wanted him to do it. “W-What do you mean? How could you tell me that?”

“You could kiss me.” JJ offered. “It’s just a kiss. You know , to tell you if you’re good at it. . . For John B.”

“JJ I—” you took a shaky breath. “JJ that’s cheating. It would be wrong.”

JJ shook his head. His hand reached over to grab yours , fingers curling towards your palm. The softness of his touch made your toes practically curl. You wanted to melt into it , feel more of him. Explore more of it. But you couldn’t— right?

“It’s not cheating , Y/N.” JJ assured. “I’m pretty sure John B would appreciate his girlfriend making sure she was pleasing him good enough.” He coaxed. “Besides , we wouldn’t have to tell him.”

“That’s—”

“Kiss me , Y/N.” JJ’s index finger hooked the side of your jaw gently and pulled your head to the side. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he watched you watch him nervously. You hadn’t leaned in— but you hadn’t pulled away. “Or do you want to me to kiss you? Would that make you feel better? If I kissed you?”

His words were almost taunting but it was true. You knew that if you were the one to start it , it’d make you feel even more guilty. You felt horrible even thinking about it — worse about entertaining the idea. But as you went to nod your head , all indiscretion about what was right and wrong had left your mind. JJ’s mouth on yours had shocked you , making you blink a couple times before his hands on either side of your cheeks made your lips start moving against his in the same amount of force.

It was slow at first. He took his time , savoring the taste of the stale weed and strawberry drink you had earlier. Just kissing you made his jeans tighten— his mind go hazy. He was getting drunk just off the taste of you and now JJ felt insatiable.

Nothing else mattered after that. Your boyfriends face had completely left your mind. Kissing JJ made your belly do flips and your heart skip every other beat. JJ kissed you like a man starved— one hand had left your cheek and grabbed at your waist , pulling it towards himself. Your little short–shorts felt like nothing as he pushed himself up against you , and you felt it. It caused you to gasp , and JJ took that an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. It swirled in every place it could find , a soft moan leaving the back of his throat as he did so. “Feel that?” JJ pulled away just for a second to mutter gently in your ear , rolling his hips again. “I’m that hard just by kissing you—”

Something in you began to stir at his words. How desired you felt only added to the situation. Each time his hips rolled against yours and created friction between your legs , it felt better and better. It was like an itch that you needed scratched and you didn’t want to play naive anymore. You were already there— and it felt too good to stop.

JJ hoisted you into his lap with ease. Each hand on either hip while he pulled away to look down at where the middle of your shorts met his. Looking at it made him groan. There hadn’t been anything hotter to him in that moment , then watching you on top of him. “Fuck you’re so—”

You took control of the situation and began grinding down onto him in a way that made you feel good. You could feel how slick you were already , the fabric of your panties sticking to that little bundle of nerves and you reached out to grab his hands and stick them in your shorts. “Since you wanted me so bad you couldn’t just stop talking—” you groaned , throwing your head back when JJ’s thumb immediately went to where you needed it to. “Finish what you started.”

The two of you were a moaning mess together. Dry humping like teenagers who discovered it for the first time with JJ’s hand down your panties. Everything about it was so wrong , but the erotic nature of the situation made it too good to stop. With hooded eyes you watched how JJ’s eyes never left between the two of you , how he panted and groan with each sound you made. Veins coming out his arm from how well he was working his fingers onto your cunt that was screaming for more.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” JJ grunted. God , it felt even better than he had imagined. His body was begging to touch you , feel every part of you. He was drunk off of you and he didn’t care about anything anymore. He was too far gone. “Tell me and I’ll do it right now.”

His teeth bit at the protective layer of skin on your neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark , but enough to make a sweet whine leave your parted lips. Through your eyelashes you down at him , your chest heaving while trying to catch it enough to speak. His ring cladded fingers halted their movements , waiting for a response.

“Yes—” you breathed , feeling shame when your hips bucked forward for more of him. “I want you to fuck me.”

That sentence made him groan in response to it. He wasted no time in moving you around , laying you flat on your back to pull down your shorts. “You’re so beautiful , Y/N.” JJ praised as he looked at you , your cheeks burning red and body glistening underneath the moonlight. It all seemed so surreal to him , having you there for him— “I’ve wanted you for so long , always walking around in those tight little shorts. Pretending you’re such a good girl when I know what you really are.”

Holding himself up on his knees , JJ quickly unfastened his belt and pulling down his shorts. You watched him , your hands fisting the sand yet again.

“You’re a dirty little girl , baby. You wanna be fucked so bad , huh? John B’s the boring one , isn’t he baby? You want someone to fill up this pretty little pussy , make you cry—” JJ’s voice was like sugar. Sickly sweet as he said the dirtiest of words that emitted a quiet moan from your mouth. JJ barely caught it , finding it amusing the way you still pretended as though you were the exact opposite.

“Stop teasing.” You whined , allowing your leg to venture up and snake around his waist to pull him towards you. “You’ve done it enough tonight.”

JJ tutted as he grabbed your leg from around his waist. “Open your legs for me.” He instructed , guiding your legs to how he wanted them. With your knees propped up and your legs as open as they could go , JJ swore he’d been starved his whole life as he looked down inbetween them , your pussy slick with arousal , practically begging for him.

The cool air nipped at your skin making you shiver. It almost hurt the way you were throbbing , needing him to do something— anything.

All air left your lungs the minute JJ disappeared. His tongue lapping you up feverishly. Your jaw became unhinged while your back arched off the sand , a series of crude moans and whines escaping your mouth embarrassingly so the way JJ’s mouth worked on you. Sucking your clit in an agonizingly slow pace , vibrating the area as he moaned. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” JJ mumbled when he pulled away for a minute to slip in his middle finger.

“JJ. . . yes—” your head fell back while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Everything went blank. All you could focus on was JJ’s messy blonde hair inbetween your legs. His tongue worked on you , fucking you with it as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your clit. It sounded like he was a man starved , the sounds his mouth made for you. Desperately gripping at the roots of his hair , shamelessly pulling him closer and closer towards you. “God , like that JJ— just like that.”

Your praise earned a grunt in response. The tightness of his jeans and underwear beginning to feel uncomfortable and he tried rocking against the sand to relieve it. He loved the way you sounded , the way you tasted , the way your body reacted to him. Your legs were smooth to the touch when he rubbed them , your pussy just as perfect as he imagined— his jaw began hurting but it only pushed him harder to keep going. He had thought about this , about you , for far too long to stop now and it only pushed him harder to make you cum.

You yelped when JJ sat up on his knees again , hooking his arms around your waist to lift your bottom from the ground. His tongue fucking you deeper , licking and sucking all that he could. He watched your face and how it contorted , how your head went back and your hands reached for just about anything to hold onto. “So good , baby. So good. John B doesn’t deserve a pussy like that.” His mouth pulled away from you to insert his fingers , curling them to find the spot that made you tick.

Something started swirling in your stomach. A feeling that washed over you and settled within your bloodstream , pumping blood faster than you had felt before. It was euphoric , how your toes curled at it. Everything about the situation helping you get off , the clapping of JJ’s ring decorated fingers and how he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist. How wrong it all was but felt so right at the same time.

“ ’M gonna cum.” You babbled out , drunk off of him. Almost fucked dumb just by his fingers. “JJ I’m gonna—”

The orgasm hit like a wave , shaking your body as it did. It was hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t stop your legs from shaking while you tried to sit up and a cocky grin was left on JJ’s face. His index finger wiped the remnants around his mouth , sucking on it afterwards. “So fuckin’ hot.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed his shirt and brought him down to you , kissing his mouth. JJ moaned in the kiss , allowing your tongue to be the one exploring his this time. You could taste yourself on him , a salty sweet mixture that made his mouth water.

Gently JJ’s hand snaked around your throat , squeezing it to test out the waters. When you made a noise in response , bucking your hips greedily again— JJ pulled away from you with a smirk. “My dirty little girl , huh?”

As you whimpered in response , JJ tutted. His pupil’s dilating as he laid you back down and went to tug down his own shorts. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna be mine—”

A moan escaped your mouth at his words and JJ laughed tauntingly in response. You waited anxiously as he lined himself up with you , holding your hips in place. His eyes were stuck on your bodies and how his tip teased your slit , running along it to lubricate it just enough to slip in which was enough to make his mind go crazier.

Slowly he entered you. Making sure to savor every second , JJ memorized how it felt to squeeze himself in between your walls. He’d forever replay the sound of your gasp as he slipped it in , breaking you apart.

John B wasn’t small necessarily , though your boyfriend had more girth. JJ was long , it was pretty to look at it and it had just enough width to stretch your walls at an agonizing pace. The feeling of him filling you up was good , but as his hips started snapping , it was better.

Whining for attention , JJ leaned down to kiss you again only stopping to pry your mouth open with his thumb and tap your tongue. Your eyes widened at the action but JJ’s thrusts didn’t give you any time to stop and process it. Instead you opened your mouth willingly , moaning in return when he spit into your mouth. JJ’s jaw tightened as you swallowed it , doe eyed.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around him at that and a wicked smile took place on his face when he realized how much you liked it when he praised you. He could tell in your body language , how needy you were and how your legs wrapped around him to trap his dick inside of you that you hadn’t been fucked like this.

He knew his friend too well to know John B was vanilla.

“You’re so wet. You like this? Getting off with your boyfriends bestfriend inside of you?” JJ grunted as he slid in and out of with you ease. You only whined in response , burying the back of your head in the sand. JJ’s hand gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him— “Answer me. How long have you wanted this? Your pussy is practically sucking me in.”

With your bottom lip out you squirmed underneath him for more stimulation. “I–I didn’t. This is the first time.” You lied through burning cheeks. Embarrassment flooding you when you made another sound of approval when JJ’s teeth nipped at your neck.

“You’re lying.” JJ whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “You can tell me— our secret.”

Whimpering your eyes watered. Thinking about it made you feel guilty. How much you were enjoying it made you feel even worse. “Just. . . just a couple times!”

JJ hummed as though he didn’t believe you but he decided not to push the issue. He angled himself to be able to go deeper. Your left leg straight up in the air while his skin slapped against yours. “I’ve thought about this every night since I met you.” JJ admitted while he groaned. “Always walking around in the small little bikini. . . Fuck , if only John B hadn’t gotten to you first.”

You felt pleasure through the tears that coated your eyes. You couldn’t tell if you were crying from the guilt or from how good it felt to feel JJ inside of you. There were so many sensations hitting you at once , so many feelings but your toes curled and your hands were clammy. They gripped onto JJ for dear life , loving every second of it despite what your heart kept pushing away. You writhed underneath him , your orgasm coming on for the second time. The noise that escaped your throat was filthy.

“You’re gonna cum for me , baby? Huh? Cumming again for your boyfriend’s best friend?” JJ grunted. “Me too , you suck me in so good. This pussy was made me for me. You were supposed to be for me.”

You shouldn’t have came as hard as you did from his words. You couldn’t contain your moans that just kept pouring out of you , watching JJ’s hips struggle to keep their movement as they followed suit.

You felt warmth coat the inside of you and immediately you gasped. Your legs pushing you away but JJ held you in place.

His head fell into the crook of your neck as he breathed , letting his dick go limp inside of you. “My girl.”

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 5

Here's Illicit part 5.. It's a fun one for sure hehe

Check out our Patreon for early access and 100+ exclusives

Illicit Masterlist

WC- 3k

Warnings- exhibitionism(?), Voyerism(?), Really mean H, Cheating (H w Y/N), spit play, smut etc

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

It was safe to say that Brant was not pleased in the slightest that his daughter had tricked Harry. While he wasn’t pleased with the fact that it had come to that in order for them to spend time together, his company took precedence over his daughter’s relationship. He had apologized profusely to Harry, telling him he would speak to his daughter and make sure she knew how inappropriate her actions were. That wasn’t what he was looking for. 

He wanted this contract terminated. 

Perhaps, if he hadn’t met Y/N, he would have a bit more tact. Suffer in silence and just roll his eyes at her antics, let her do what she needed to get him off of her back. But he did. He met the love of his life and this girl was standing in the way of what he wanted. That never turned out well for anyone, really, but this girl had pushed his last straw. He needed her to break up with him so this agreement was void. The moment she told him it was done, he would perhaps just for joy. It was exhausting. The annoyance he used to feel for her had built up into a sweltering hatred, a loathing. Every little thing she did pissed him off and put her higher and higher on his shit list. He needed her gone, and fast. He couldn’t keep hiding Y/N.

Katherine on the other hand, only wanted to chase harder. She was livid with him for speaking out loud, letting people question their relationship. Sure enough there was a grainy video of a pissed off Harry growling at her from across the table, throwing cash on to the table. The articles had come out in droves.

Trouble in Paradise for the New IT Couple?

UnStylish Dinner- Waitress Tells All

Rocky Road for Heiress and Mogul 

Is THE Couple Calling it Quits?

Tantrum at the Table? Katherine Brant EXPOSED!

Needless to say, she was twitching and angry. Her carefully curated brand had been tarnished. She’d put in months now of effort, building up their story. Letting herself sit aside while Harry was busy but getting her head bitten off when she wanted a bit of attention. Her crush on him was obsessive. It wasn’t just getting his love anymore, it was building their relationship up to legendary levels. Give them a ship name! Katrry? Hatherine? She was fine with either, but she wanted that influencer reputation. The wealth itself wasn’t enough. She wanted attention, damn it, and Harry was ruining her plans. 

When Katherine had originally gotten this deal, she was ecstatic. She was convinced she could get the ‘emotionless beast’ as people around there called him, to love her. She knew she was pretty, funny, she had a lot to offer. Her plan had been foolproof, or so she thought. Thinking about how they could rise up and be the perfect power couple. New money and Old coming together and ruling over the city with a golden fist. 

They had been ruined, however, when he didn’t give. They had sex 2 times, she gave him oral once, and the man had barely said anything to her except ‘shut up.’ He was selfish, using her as a mere fleshlight to get off on. No praise, no words besides a grunt when he came. He’d demanded her face down, ass up, and to keep quiet. Bite the pillow if you need, your voice is annoying.  It hadn’t been bad, his cock thick and hitting the right spots, but he showed no interest in her. No affection. Simply slapping her ass and getting up to shower alone after he was done. He’d asked if she was good, but that was about it. She’d thought maybe using sex to get to him would work, but after the second time he straight up denied her. No phsycial contact.

There was no way he was normal. He didn’t have emotions nor morals, it seemed, but she didn’t need those in order to have a happy life. Giving up on the affection, she’d tried to perfect the image, manipulating photos, planting people to see things at certain angles. Making people think she had done the impossible- she had turned the mottled, charred heart of Harry Styles into a blooming forest, just for her. But obviously- things were not turning out her way. Katherine was used to getting her way. 

So she devised a plan. An intervention of sorts, one that had her stomping into his office only to be told he had taken the day off. A direct lie he had told her just an hour earlier, saying he was busy at work all day and not to bother him with silly things. Like her feelings. She was fuming and irrational, knowing what she had to do. It would perhaps get people fired, maybe get her in big trouble with her father, but she wasn't thinking clearly right now. All she wanted to do was to yell at him. Give Harry a taste of his own medicine, damn it. He acted so high and mighty, so above her, and it infuriated her. 

Knowing it wasn’t smart and the back of her mind reminding her of how much he valued his privacy, she knew it was dirty. But seeing her opportunity with a new doorman to his building, proving their relationship status with his phone number in her phone and photos of them together, she got the spare key to his place. 

Her heart was beating in her throat as she pushed the front door handle down, heels clicking as she walked inside the foyer. The place was quiet, really, except for a faint sound coming from the upstairs of the penthouse. Naive, she assumed it was the television. Harry hadn’t allowed her here more than to meet her in the hallway, so part of this was saving her curiosity as she saw the large panoramic views of the city in this high rise, floor to ceiling windows. His step down living room with a half one puzzle on the coffee table and a U Shaped couch, she walked past it and towards the grand staircase to make her way up to where he must be. 

It was nerve wracking, really. Being here, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be, but the rage simmering under her skin was too hot to make sense of it. Each step clicked, bringing her closer to the sound she still couldn’t quite make out. 

“Oh, fuuuuck.” A feminine voice let out, faint but loud enough to make her throat tight. There was no way. Each step closer gained another sound. A grunt, a smack, a whimper. A manly cooing, the sound of flesh slapping together and hushed words that only got clearer as she neared the door that was ajar. 

“S’good, baby?” It was Harry. Harry Styles, with his low crooning voice. A tone she had never heard before, making her stiffen up and her eyes blink hard as the deep words continue. “S’so good for me. Always so fucking good, swallowing me up.” A weak whine sounded in reply. Tip toeing closer, her curiosity got the best of her again as she peeked inside. 

On the plush bed, the blankets were crumpled and wrinkled. A starkly naked, almost faceless woman was laying on her back, fingers clutching the broad expanse of Harry’s bare, tanned back. The pearly pink of her demure manicured nails digging into the skin, making a groan Katherine had never imagined the man capable of falling from swollen lips. She was getting a side view, a real pornographic image playing in front of her face. Frozen, like watching a car crash as she looked at the couple. 

He was fucking another woman. A woman he was treating much differently than she had ever treated her. His hand scooping under her neck, cooing down at her as tiny repetitive whimpers left her lips. “I know, M’Love. I know, I’m getting that spot, aren’t I? S’my spot.” He brushed her nose with his own, fucking into her deep and concentrated. The sweat glistened on his skin as she watched her supposed ‘boyfriend’ fuck into the cunt of another woman. He called her ‘his love.’. She was shaking, face pale as she couldn't seem to uncement her feet from the carpeted hall. 

“Yes, yes, right there. Right there, H.” The woman panted. Desperation was clear in her tone, her legs pulled up and on his shoulders. H? She was allowed a nickname and Katherine wasn't? “I can’t stop, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum I-” A needy squeal sounded in the room as Harry leaned down, spitting over her cunt and smearing it in with his hand. Unashamed and passionate. He was being filthy, but the way he looked at the woman- it broke her a little. Whoever this was, she had gotten her dream. She was the one standing in the way of it, she was the one who had ruined her plans. She’d hypnotized him with sex, somehow managing to get her goal of unfreezing his heart. Just the way he handled her made Katherine well aware of the fact that he was in love. 

“There we fuckin’ go, my love. Soak my cock.” He hissed through his teeth, eyes looking up from Y/N to follow his gut feeling, eyes meeting Katherine’s in the doorway. Instead of stopping, of growling at her, instead of making her presence known, he simply laughed, turning his attention back to Y/N and let her watch. His thrusts increased in tempo, a hand placed on her tummy as he worked harder. Like he was trying to prove something. “S’my perfect girl. All mine, let go all over my cock. S’all yours, baby.” He hummed. “I can feel it- fuck, you’re trying to milk me. Y’want it, sweet girl?” He mumbled down at her. “Want my cum again?” 

Her eyes betrayed her, looking down to find that his cock was indeed bare. Something she knew he was notorious for never allowing. It solidified a lot to Katherine, knowing that he was fucking this girl raw, that she was the one that had beat her to him. Anger and shame bubbled inside of her as her face stays red, watching his slick pick drive into her, spreading her open with each pass. Creamy at the base, like this wasn’t their first round, maybe a third. Bitten skin and scratch marks, her breasts with pebbled nipples arched up as begged for it, unashamed at her pleas as Harry stared down at her with pure love and lust. It seemed to be his undoing, dropping down her legs and finding himself on top of her, deep and hard thrusts as he pressed his nose to hers before his face contorted in rapture. A deep growl, his hips stuttering as he pushed in one final time and the wet sounds of sex ended. Only then, he took her mouth with his own while he stayed balls deep, humping into her and kissing her hard, more passion going into that one kiss than he had given her the whole of their relationship. 

His expression hardened as he pulled away, looking up at Katherine with a single warning mouthed to her by his swollen, spit slicked lips. ‘Get the fuck out.’ 

—---------

“I love you.” Harry mumbled into Y/N’s neck, peppering it with kisses. He wasn’t going to ruin this post orgasm bliss quite yet, ignoring the woman standing with a gaping mouth at their bedroom door. “So much. My sweet angel.” He stroked the messy locks from her face, their second round on his day off being usually one of his favorites. This time, it was again, but for a much more nefarious reason. 

Harry wasn’t one to tell someone they were wrong if they called him cruel. He was. Y/N, his nieces and his family were the only ones shielded by his gray morals, but there was a sick part of him that was relieved. Excited, even, that Katherine got a glimpse. Saw that she could never compare, that he was a taken man and was only with her. Maybe now, she would get it through her impossibly thick skull. Only, it seemed she was stupider than Harry had originally thought, standing like a deer in headlights as Harry gently pulled out, using his fingers to curl inside her cunt and the other grabbing the blanket to cover up Y/N. 

“Can you not read lips? I said to get the fuck out.” He said coldly, fingers pressing the cum further into Y/N’s cunt as he looked at Katherine. “You come in here, invade my privacy? More so, my girl’s privacy? Not fucking okay.”

“Are you kidding me?” Katherine squeaked. Y/N had been clued in and felt herself curl in on herself, hiding under the blanket as her thundering heart didn’t take the second to calm down. It only got worse. “I’m your girlfriend! Not this, this-”

“I’d choose your words very fucking carefully.” He snapped, eyes darker than she had ever seen. He was naked as the day he was born, cock wet and filthy with another woman's orgasm mixed with his own, and he was more threatening than she could have ever imagined. “This is the woman who will be the mother of my children. You, Katherine, are a means to an end. An end I’ve been trying to work on and you’ve been too pathetic to catch a clue. Or stupid, actually, considering I’ve told you I’m here because you whined to your father who was dumb enough to add a personal matter cloud his judgment. I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now.” He pulled his fingers from Y/N, licking them clean without breaking eye contact with the wicked witch. He hoped it made her sick.

“You are a monster.” She whispered, face paling. “You don’t care about anything! Any of the effort I put in, it’s because you’ve had a whore on the side-”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He interrupted again. “She’s not the whore. If anything, you’re the one on the side trying to desperately prove to people who don’t care about you that you are important. It’s pathetic. I tried to help you by treating you like shit, but let me spell it out for you.” He stood up, giving Y/N’s forehead a kiss before crossing his arms. “You are nothing to me. You’ve never been anything to me. She has been my everything since the day we met. I have been dreaming of marrying her, impregnating her, keeping her. You and this fucked up deal have been an inconvenience since day one. And don’t even think about running to your father crying. There is no clause saying I need to be loyal to you. No monogamy, no fidelity clause. Your father’s company was a welcome inquisition to my empire, but it means nothing to me now. You mean nothing to me. Your time is worthless.” 

Harry was harsh but real. Y/N had her hand over her mouth, watching the exchange in horror. She wasn’t pleased about being seen, as it felt extremely violating, but she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t feeling that weird sense of satisfaction over finally being seen as his one and only. It was a weird juxtaposition of feelings swirling in her gut, blinking as she watched the girl’s face fall. Harry was being ruthless, trying to cement the facts in her head. 

“I’ve been as kind as I can be given the situation. I went along with your little schemes but I’m tired. Frankly, the things you care about are vapid, stupid, and you will fall out of public favor in seconds once the next heiress with a camera pops up. But you’ve fucked up massively, Katherine.First, wasting my time and business hours. But this? Breaking and entering? Are you really that pathetic?” He sneered. It must have been a sight, seeing a stark nude Harry Styles sneering at a shivling excuse of an influencer who was standing in his doorway. “And here you are now, wasting my time with my love. I was going to continue this agreement and let you continue whatever social media posts, but this is too far for me. No deal is worth a psychotic woman breaking into my house and making my woman feel unsafe.” 

He crossed the room to grab his phone when he heard her sputter. 

“Wait! No- No, don’t call my dad.” She said shakily. “Please don’t call him. I’ll do anything. He’s going to kill me.” Katherine, above all else, couldn’t stand the threat of being cut off. That’s what he threatened the other day for using his phone to trick Harry. Katherine was used to her lifestyle and if that was taken away, she didn’t know what she would do. 

“Call off the contract.” He said. “That’s the only way I’m not telling your father and ruining your life. Break up with me, do your silly influencer thing and call the paparazzi. Call me an asshole, I don’t give a fuck. But break this contract. I want out of it and I want to be rid of you.” He found his briefs, pulling them up his legs. This was the one thing he wanted. To be honest, part of him did want to ruin her life- but he didn’t want to be held responsible for all the other shit that came with it. So for one final time, he gave her a shot. “And get the fuck out before I call security.”  

If she didn’t take this warning seriously, he’d be happy to show her what kind of monster he could be. 

[astroboots]

Issue #6

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You and your unfriendly neighborhood Spiderman wind up far from your usual neighborhood and you need to find a way to leave before it's too late.

Word count: 2,600 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Your home is gone. 

Everything is gone. 

All you can see is white. A vast, empty space surrounding you, blank and endless as far as the eye can see. 

You suck in a surprised breath, already flinching because you expect a place so white and sterile to smell like sharp stinging disinfectant, but to your surprise it's the opposite. It smells of nothing in here.

“Mierda!”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and find Blue-Spiderman behind you.

“Shit!” he growls out. His hand comes up to his hair, fingers fisting into the poor strands as he starts tugging at them in frustration again. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Wha– What happened?”

There was a helicopter, you think… darkness... a loud noise... the wall of your apartment exploding into a cloud of dust and rubble.

"Did... did a fucking helicopter just crash into my apartment!?"

He ignores your question, opting to fidget with his wristwatch instead, swearing and muttering to himself, while you try to make sense of what’s happening. 

“And… And then…” And then the otherworldly light show. At the time, you thought you were dying, but you’re clearly not dead. You’re just… someplace else. “What is this place?”

“We weren’t supposed to end up here,” he says, ignoring your question once again. He smacks at his watch repeatedly before swearing again and then leaves the poor thing alone.

“Come on.” He unceremoniously grabs your arm and starts marching forward, dragging you along.  He seems to have some destination in mind, though you don’t know how he can tell left from right in this expanse of nothingness, let alone where to go.

“Wait, wait,” you protest, “Where are we? What is this place?” Maybe if you repeat yourself enough he’ll finally give you an answer.

“We have to get out of here. We can’t waste time.” There is no pause in his steps, he marches on as if he’s expecting you to calmly accept the situation without further explanation.

"Can you please just stop for a second and tell me what’s going on?!" you say, digging your heels against his strength to try and stop him for even a second. 

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring with anger and irritation. “We’re in an interdimensional fabric where the interstitial domain emerges. It’s void of any discernible quantum fluctuations or energy-matter manifestations, constituting an absolute absence of existence or spatial-temporal coherency and–”

He’s still talking, throwing out a string of convoluted science terms, one after another in quick succession, but all you hear is an endless stream of jibberish. 

His words seem strangely far away, like your ears are plugged or something. You raise a hand to rub at one of them, then at your forehead when that doesn't make the sound go back to normal.

Normal. Ha! Who even knows what "normal" is for this place anyway. Everything since you left your apartment has been so bizarre that you're not surprised your head feels a little wonky.

And there's something weird with your hand too. You pull it back from your forehead and hold it in front of your face, staring at it.

Strange. The tone of it seems off, somehow. Opaque and lighter in shade then you’re used to. Almost like it’s fading.

It's only when he moves to stand in front of you that you realize you can see the red and blue of his suit though your hand. The whole of your palm is turning translucent.

“Shit!” he spits out and steps forward, grabbing and yanking your hand towards him as he inspects your palm.

Whatever he sees clearly doesn’t make him happy. His mouth is at an angle of irritation you had not thought was physically possible before.

"What's your name?" he demands.

"You know my name!" You scowl, tired of keeping up this farce, you know he knows it, and you're not playing this game with him. 

His annoyance seems to grow deeper. “Yes, I know your name. I'm asking if you remember it.”

What kind of stupid question is that!? Of course you remember your own name. What a condescending jerk! Does he get off on making everyone around him feel like an idiot?

Your name is… it’s... it's... uhm…

... huh.

The first syllable of your name is on the tip of your tongue. Your lips shape the sound, but nothing comes out because you don't remember what vowel comes next. Or what comes after that.

Your name... Why can't you remember your name?

“I–I don’t...” you hesitate, blinking in confusion. You don’t understand. How did you forget something so simple? “I don’t understand what’s happening. Where are we?”

“I just told you where we are,” he bursts out impatiently.

You wince at his words. God, he did explain, didn't he? You just... can't remember what he said. You know he used a lot of science-y words… Is that why you can't remember what he told you?

 “Look, it’s been a rough day. Can you explain it to me again, please, but like you’re talking to a 5 year old?”

In front of you, his expression softens ever so slightly, and he takes another deep breath before continuing more calmly.

“We’re in a space between worlds,” he explains, this time in plain speech, thank god. “It’s a void. Nothing exists here. If we stay too long, we won’t either.”

“Okay, but what am I supposed to–”

“Think happy thoughts,” he orders with a testy bite, which is not at all very helpful in making you think of happy thoughts.

“What, like think of a joke or…?”

He scowls at your question, as if it wasn’t a perfectly reasonable question to ask in the circumstances.

“No. Close your eyes and think of a happy memory. Something important. And personal. It’ll keep you tethered to your physical body,” he says, and despite the terse snappiness that remains in this rude man’s voice, you don’t put up a protest.

You close your eyes, trading out white for the black behind your eyelids. You try to form a memory—any memory—but nothing comes to you.

“I can’t think of anything,” you say, as worry starts creeping into your chest. You don’t understand why something that should be simple is so hard to do all of a sudden.

Then you hear his voice in the darkness.

“Think of someone you love. A day you spent together, or if you can’t think of something, then just think of their smile, or the color of their eyes,” he continues, and with each quality he lists out to you, there's a warmth that leaks through the hardness of his voice.

In your mind’s eye, a memory unfolds pixel by pixel. One of your favorite childhood memories of going camping upstate with your family. You’re wearing a pink ball cap, and your parents are standing by the tent, watching as the family dog runs up to you with a soggy tennis ball in her mouth.

Your mom is smiling at you as she waves from afar, gentle and patient. Her eyes are squinting against the bright sunlight, but you can’t remember the color of them. 

Gray hazy mist invades the edges of the memory, eating into the vivid colors, the picture distorts until the smiles of your parents morphs into a faceless blob.

Your eyes snap open, and you can’t keep the panic out of your voice. “What’s happening to me!?”

You don’t remember… You don’t remember what they look like. Who they were, you can’t–

“Hey, hey” his voice snaps you out of the fog, His warm palms come up to cup the apple of your cheeks, face mere inches from yours.

“Stay with me.”

And you're trying, you really are, but the panic is already here. Eating through your veins and crawling under your skin with an itch that won't go away.

“I– I can’t– I don’t–”

You can’t feel his hand anymore. Can’t feel your cheeks either. Can’t feel the clattering of your teeth from your trembling or the hard beating of your heart in your chest.

“I don’t remember her eyes.” Your fingers clutch onto his arms, but no matter how hard you dig in with your nails, it sinks into nothingness,  “I don’t– My mom. I– I don’t remember her name, her face, her–” 

Your feet seem to have fused to the spot you are standing on. They feel heavy and weightless at the same time. You try to move, but can't. Your body is no longer listening to you, and you’ve forgotten what it’s like to coordinate your feet, for the right foot to take a step forward and have the left one follow.

“Lyla,” he tells you, thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheeks, and you can feel the rasp of the rough calluses on it. “Your mom’s name was Lyla.”

The panic subsides at the familiar name. 

Lyla.

Your mom's face comes flooding back, the way her eyes would crinkle at the corner when she laughed, the proud smile she wore at your high school graduation, the soft sound of her voice singing you quiet lullabies as you drifted off to sleep.

“She used to make the most disgusting mac ‘n’ cheese, and whenever you’re sad, it’s all you want to eat,” he reminds you and your mouth tingles at the memory of the thick layer of dripping cheap cheese, scalding hot on your tongue. 

You adjust your grip on him, and you can feel the texture of his suit under your fingertips now. Your fingers aren’t as numb anymore, neither is your face. 

“Food worked, huh?” The corner of his mouth tugs into a half smile, eyes soft as he gazes down at you. “Figures.”

He leans down, hunching over until his forehead rests against yours. “You know that pizza place down on Downing street that you always go to the day before payday? With the gross doughy crust and kimchi topping that you love so much? Think of that.”

You can picture it clearly. The brick brownhouses, the familiar waft of oven-baked dough, and hint of coal burning, and slowly but surely, your stomach warms at the thought of it. 

“Think of those ugly pink fur slippers you wear constantly at home when it gets cold,” he says, and you do, gradually become aware of the soles of your feet and the weight of your own body being held up by them.  

He goes on like that, listing off things about you. The way he talks about them is almost insulting, but there’s an undertone of fondness hidden underneath that you can’t make sense of. He describes your favorite cozy sweater, calling it “ratty”; your favorite corner of central park that he thinks reeks of piss; your favorite episode of Grey’s anatomy, the one where Cristina has to get cut out of her wedding dress, which you always watch when you need a good cry.

The sound of his voice seems to shiver through you, the warmth of it settling low in your belly.

The more he talks, the more you remember, memories bleeding back into your consciousness. The simplest things come first... The sensation of running your fingers through soft fabric. Stepping barefoot into grass on a summer day. What it feels like to want someone.

And, as he continues to talk, awareness of your body comes trickling back until you're acutely conscious of his forehead pressing against yours; his hands, big and gentle where they're wrapped around your upper arms; the heat radiating off his big body inches from yours as his deep voice lists off all sorts of intimate things about your life, things he has no business knowing. 

Control of your body is returning to you. You can blink now, even if it requires conscious effort, and you blink up at him as he pulls back to look down at you.

“You back with me?” he asks softly, one big, warm hand rising to cup the back of your neck in a way that makes you lightheaded.

You tip your head ever so slightly until you catch sight of your hands, now totally opaque instead of that eerily ghostly sheen, and you nod back at him. 

“I– I think so.”

“Good.” 

You’re still a little bit frazzled. Disorientated by the whole experience that it takes you a while longer to gather your thoughts together. 

You still don’t know where you are. You don’t know what the hell just happened. Or what this place is supposed to be. Calling it a ‘void’ doesn’t really explain as much as he seems to think it does. How on earth did you just lose control over your body like that? Why did your body literally start to disappear, fading into the nothingness? 

A chill trickles down your spine as you recall the lack of sensation, and you grip his arm underneath your fingers just a little bit tighter to remind yourself that, yeah, he’s still here. 

It makes you feel just the tiniest bit safer. 

With one arm still wrapped around your shoulders, he brings his other wrist to his mouth and speaks into the watch. “Lyla, have you got a lock down?” 

Huh? Lyla? What is he– You don’t understand. Wait, is he talking to your mom? What does he mean he’s locking down your mom!? 

There’s a crackle of static in your ears, and the endless white gives way to a burst of color as reality reforms around the two of you. A wall of masonry appears brick by brick before you, nothing but blue clear skies above. There’s a crunch of gravel on the concrete tiles beneath your feet, and when you look down to your right, you see the New York skyline below you. The bird’s eye view of the city is familiar. It’s one you’ve seen many, many times before. 

You’re on top of the Chrysler building. 

For a second you panic at the height. You clutch onto the man who has once again saved your life, and he lets you, holding you steady, with one big palm resting on the small of your back. 

“You’re okay,” he says, shushing you until you relax in his arms. “You’re okay.” 

You stay like that for some time, held in the safety of his arms, until your heartbeat slows, until the pulse racing in your throat is no longer in a clustered lump and you feel like you can breathe and think again. 

And now that you can think again, your brain is racing a mile a minute. All the things that have happened… All the things that this man said to you to bring you back to yourself. 

Things that no one except for you would know about. It’s too personal and intimate. Even if he had somehow been stalking you, he wouldn’t know these things unless he has been stalking you from childhood. The things he knows about you only comes through years of being with a person. Your habits. Your likes. Your dislikes. The things that upset you. The things that make it better when everything else has gone wrong. He knows all these things about you that he really only should know if he’s known you for a lifetime.  

"Who are you?" you ask him again, pulling back slightly to stare up into those blood red eyes inches away from your own, "Who are you really?"

"My name is Miguel O'Hara,” he says, holding your gaze, “and I’m Spiderman from another dimension."

~ Next

Dedication & Credits: To my sister clown in arms @thirstworldproblemss thank you for putting up with me since this series started, I have been bugging his poor woman every second of her waking day. Please give her all the love because I couldn't do this without her or even if I did, I wouldn't have 1/100000000000000000 of the fun I have now with her.

[dottiro]

Peek-a-boo [ i. ]

Unreliable synopsis: How many masks can you stack on one face? / What happened to Zandik? Warnings: REPOST FROM MY ARCHIVED BLOG! Dottore, kidnap mention Note: This is a repost from my archived blog because it might or might not be connected to Hide & Seek / I wanted it on this blog.

The room pulses with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Crimson eyes, glossy and void of light, gaze through you. Two pale blue strands hang on either side of his face, one slightly longer than the other. The ends of which curl like an untamable wave. His shoulders are tense, and he seems absent while his body is present. 

The man in front of you is zoning out again. 

You’re unsure what goes on in the mind of your captor, but these moments are the ones you fear most. You never quite know which side of him appears when he wakes up from his stupor. 

Silence takes over the room. You don’t move, you don’t breathe. In this moment you are merely a spectator—the very thing he used to be in your life before he decided to take a more direct approach in the current experiment.

‘Dottore’ clutches the wooden frame of the chair in front of him. His knuckles turn white at the strength he uses but his expression remains blank and devoid of any emotion. 

And then as, quickly as it came, the moment passed. 

The eyebrows that were previously relaxed are pushed into an unforgiving frown. His lips are pursed, and he takes but a mere second to regain his awareness. 

“You.” he spits out.

ㅤ

ㅤ

· · ────── α ────── · ·

ㅤ

It was reported to be the coldest winter in the past two decades when you first arrived in Snezhnaya. The first nights in the previously abandoned mansion had been insufferable. The walls are too thin, the sheets too light, and the doors too loose. Cold air creeps up from every corner, forcing you back into the arms of the person you despise most. 

“I thought you were exaggerating when you told me about the eternal winters of Snezhnaya.” You wrap your second blanket closer to your body. The side of your body is pressed against the decrepit sofa in a desperate attempt to cover your back from the air.

In direct contrast to you, Zandik sits comfortably with his legs crossed on the sofa across from you. He is wearing a chunky, cable-knit sweater in a deep navy blue colour. The crisp, white button-up shirt underneath compliments the otherwise darker colour. The collar is neatly pressed and peeks out from the sweater. 

Paired with the sweater, he wears a pair of slim-fitted trousers in a dark shade of grey. These, too, are neatly pressed and fall just above his polished black shoes. 

He had dressed this way on the rainier days in Sumeru. It sparks a sense of nostalgia when you look at him now. The outfit is a nearly identical replica of the clothes he wore during your first interactions in the Akademiya. The only thing that falls short is the incertitude and cold look on his face. 

He shifts in his position on the sofa, uncrossing his legs, and then crossing them again. He scoffs at your attempt at a conversation opener. “Surely you can’t expect to blame me for your lack of knowledge regarding the environmental habitats of Snezhnaya.”

“Part of you is to blame. I don’t recall you ever giving me the time to research it. Nor did you warn me about your decision to kidnap me.”

He is silent after that. 

The truth should hurt. Given the way he acted during the last days of being at the Akademiya and the way he carried himself during your travels, you expected asperity—anything but silence.

A shiver falls over you again, and you curl yourself up tighter. 

Your eyes fall upon the Zandik in front of you. It might be wishful thinking, but a spark of recognition, a small light, seems to have returned in his eyes. He feels less distant. Sure, he is far from the boy you first met, but you can’t deny that he seems softer.

It’s strange how abruptly he can change. Like the moon, he goes through phases where he comes off to be unwhole. Often, you don’t doubt he’s lost part of himself. In what? You’re not sure. But as soon as it comes, it passes, and he seems whole again. 

The tips of his fingers trace the fabric of the decaying sofa. His touch caressing what must be a mixture of dust and loose threads with the filling underneath being the sole foundation that keeps it from collapsing. 

You wonder how he came into possession of this large mansion, and why he had left it in the first place. You wonder why and how he ended up in the Akademiya. 

“I’m going to the library.” He says. 

Zandik stands up from the couch. The wall he had built between you and him stands as tall as he does. It towers over both of you, and you’re unsure whether this barrier protects or fails you. 

For the first time since he decided to sit in your company, his eyes find yours. There is a sense of urgency behind his next words. “Don’t follow me.”

You nod. The idea of following him has landed you in this situation. You long learnt that curiosity is what makes or breaks a man, and you’re not ready to gamble your life again to learn the secrets that Zandik hides.

Oblivion is bliss.

His footsteps echo through the bare room. Most of the furniture remains covered by linen cloths and aged by a layer of dust and untold history.

‘The library’. 

Oh, how you long to read.

To have the company of words instead of a man you've grown to despise.

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡

[rukkiya]

someone must get hurt

(diluc x reader)

“You always do this.” Diluc clenches his jaw as he passes you quickly, shoulder lightly bumping into yours as he walks in front of you.

“Do what? I just did what I was told, assisted you on your mission and-“

“Assisted me?” A forced laugh makes its way past his lips.

“Who do you think you are? Huh?” He asks, sapphire eyes burning with annoyance though worry was etched on his features.

“Diluc, please don’t start.” You sign, you felt bad already and didn’t want to argue with him. You had a minor slip up which you've apologized profusely for, but he still keeps throwing your incompetence in your face.

Your fingers play with the strange device you picked up at the abandoned camp, this was the only thing left of the supposed group that's been camping there for days now. The very one Diluc and you were sent to take care of.

“All we have to prove for ourselves is that ridiculous thing you picked up,” He shuts his eyes, hand resting on the bridge of his nose. “Why even bother bringing it? To show our failure to properly attack them? This is why I work alone.” He spits out making you feel more bad than you already do.

You stop in your tracks when you see black substance seeping from the creaks of the strange you object. You feel your body come to a halt on its own, without you even stopping your feet from moving. From your peripherals darkness creeps in and you try to call out to Diluc but your lips feel too heavy to move. In seconds darkness surrounds you, enveloping your whole being before you know it.

“You know what? You really always make things harder honestly. The reason why I asked Jean not to send you with me was so I wouldn’t have to put up with you, not for your own safety.” He laughs bitterly. “I couldn’t care less if you got hurt during a mission, you should’ve stayed back where you belong.” He scoffs, He didn’t want you here, he didn’t mean what he was saying but he was just so frustrated he doesn’t even hear himself.

“Oh great what, are you mad now? Is that it?” Diluc rolls his eyes, you weren’t replying with a comeback like you usually do.

He stops and listens, head turning around when he doesn’t hear your footsteps behind him only to see you about fifteen feet behind him, blank look on your features.

“Y/n, come on we don’t have time for this.” He sighs, looking down at his feet. He knows he’s overdone it now. He knows himself, that he can’t shut up before he says something that he knows will hurt you. He has a sharp tongue. He understands if you got upset but he felt something was off, your face was void of any emotion.

“Y/n?” He calls you again, taking a step closer since you still haven’t even moved an inch making his eyebrows draw together.

In tunnel vision you see him clear as day. Stopping, turning around and even walking towards you but you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak for that matter.

You try to move, try to make your fingers twitch, wiggle your toes, move your eyes, signal to him that something isn’t right.

You know exactly what it is, what has you under its control and it’s scaring you the longer it’s lasting, you can’t break out of it.

The Abyss, the dark magic that you felt take over you, there was no mistaking it.

“Attack him.” A shrill voice boom’s next to you and you jump in your skin, there was no mistaking this was a voice of a mage.

You feel your arm move suddenly and Diluc stops walking towards you, calling out your name a bit louder this time.

“Y/n!” He repeats, stopping in his tracks when your arm comes up and your sword materializes in your palm.

You feel the weight of your sword in your hands and you try to move your arm again but to no avail.

“Attack him! Drive your sword through his chest!” The shrill voice demands again and you almost feel like laughing at the sick demand.

“I wouldn’t dare.” You rebuttal, looking around the darkness to see if you can spot what had you under a spell. Your lips don’t move as your reply, more like your internal thoughts being spoken aloud.

“You can’t resist the right power of the abyss, let it seep into your bones and envelope your core!” The voice laughs and to your dismay you feel your legs lunge forward, sword swinging to attack.

You felt cold, sick at the realization of what was happening as it dawned on you now, the abyss mage was taking control of your body.

“Y/n hEY!” Diluc jumps back, eyes blown wide, your sword just mere inches from his chest now.

“Y/n? HEY! WHAT'S GOTTEN INTO YOU?!” Diluc’s voice rose louder as you take another big swing, your sword cutting through the bottom of his thick coat.

“What are you doing to me? Stop, please! STOP DON'T MAKE ME HURT HIM!” You scream, voice reverberating in the darkness.

You try to move your fingers, anything. You can’t even blink for archon’s sake!

“HEY WHAT'S GOTTEN INTO YOU.” Diluc tries to catch your arm but the abyss mage makes a swift move to make you out of reach from him, once again making you swing again.

“PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS.” You plead, feeling your eyes start to burn. You don’t want to hurt him, you never want to put a scratch on his body.

Sure you were pissed at him from your fight earlier but this was something else entirely. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you ever hurt him.

Diluc doesn’t dare draw his claymore at you. He knows instantly this isn’t your doing from the tears brimming your eyes though your face still remains expressionless.

The very one he saw pouting seconds ago, he doesn’t like this at all. He’d rather have you nagging at him again, telling him off, or see that smile that he himself is too scared to admit that he fell in love with but the face you were making right now scared him. He’s never seen you wear such an expression.

“Y/n! I know it’s not you but try to listen to me!” He plants his feet on the floor, arms raised defenseless just in case you strike again.

“Diluc! DILUC!! RUN PLEASE RUN!” You plead, screaming at the top of yours lungs and he sees your lips twitch the slightest bit.

“Is this the abyss? Could it be an ambush?” He questions both you and himself, looking around the surrounding area.

He spots the device you had picked up from the camp earlier and it clicks, making him curse under his breath. He should’ve known better, shouldn’t have let you near it.

You had both just come from an mission that Jean specifically sent you two on and Diluc was against it if course, he thought you lacked ability and knowledge in both the field of fighting and strategizing but Jean told him otherwise. He himself wont admit the real reason though, he didn’t want you going was so you’d be guaranteed to stay safe in the gates of Mondstadt but once you had your mind set it was hard to make you choose otherwise, so when Jean requested you go with Diluc you couldn’t back down.

Diluc had blown up on you when you arrived at your specified location since it was clear of any tracks of the abyss order, he blamed it on you out of frustration. He was so close to getting them, making them pay for so many things they’ve done but little did you both know the abyss planned this all along.

“Y/n Listen,” Diluc is quick on his feet, grabbing onto both of your wrists to still you. “I know you can hear me, don’t let them take over ok?”His voice is stern though he’s a bit out of breath

You continue to try to move, to resist the control and once again your lips twitch making Diluc’s eyes widen.

“Yes yes! There you go just like that y/n! Listen about earlier forget it ok. All that's important at this moment is-“

“Stab him.” The abyss Mages voice cuts off Diluc’s.

You feel your arms move but hold still, resisting to the best of your ability.

Diluc feels you struggle, wrists trembling in his hands and that’s when he hears it. The faint small whimpers escaping your lips.

His heart drops when he looks up at you.

Blood ran down your chin as your bottom lips was caught between your teeth, biting down hard to try and gain as much control of yourself, even the smallest parts matter.

“-un.” You choke out, hearing it actually come from your lips making Diluc’s eyes widen in both horror and relief.

His words slap him in the face now, all the blame he’s put on you, how he told you he couldn’t care less about what happened to you, how he threw everything at your face was all going back to him. His own voice echoing in his head as he sees your struggle. You were crying, trying your hardest to stop yourself from hurting him and he let his words hurt you all day.

He doesn’t budge and you try your best to get your lips to move again. He’s always been so damn stubborn. Why is he doing this right now?

“Resisting? You fool I’ll make you do worse if you don’t heed my words.” The abyss mage hisses at your restraint, growing worried at how much you're holding back.

“RUN! DILUC I CAN'T HOLD BACK FOR TOO LONG RUN!” You scream, hearing it reverberate in the darkness again but it only comes out as another whimper to him.

He feels his own eyes start to burn now.

“I know this isn’t your doing y/n, please try to fight back, listen I- '' He swallows the lump in his throat as he feels you start to pull back a bit. “I’m sorry I blew up on you earlier, it wasn’t your fault ok? None of this was I was just being irritable, I didn’t want you here because I wanted you as far away as from any possible danger and now look, I didn't want this to-“ his mouth goes dry as you rip your arms from his grasp, hands shakily raising your sword at him.

“RUN DILUC ITS TAKING CONTROL I CAN'T HOLD BACK!” You scream seeing his arms fall to his sides loosely.

You feel your fingers twitch and try dropping the sword but it only curves back around the hilt seconds after.

Diluc remains still, he’s not leaving without you archons no.

“RUN JUST RUN PLEASE DILUC I NEED YOU TO-“

“RUN!” The ear piercing scream that leaves your throat makes the tears that brim his eyes fall free as he shakes his head no.

“Y/n i'm not- I won’t leave you until you get your senses back ok? I-I know you're capable,” he nods his head, stepping closer to you and you force your leg to take one back. “Its you, I know you can overcome this. You’d never let anyone take control come on now.” He nervously smiles at you, arms stretching to meet your again and he sees you tremble even harder.

“Attack him now! NOW DO IT BEFORE I MAKE YOU DO SOMETHING WORSE.” The abyss mage makes you lunge forward, arm slashing near Diluc’s chest but before it can touch him you swing your other arm to catch your own blade.

“Y/n what’re you-“

“IF YOU DON'T LET GO I'LL REALLY MAKE YOU DO SOMETHING YOU'LL REGRET!” The abyss mage screams, you feel your jaw go slack from being clenched and feeling some control over it once again.

“Diluc,” you whisper shakily, hand squeezing the blade in your hold to not let it slip near him. “Go back to Mondstadt for me ok? Make it back safe and tell Jean about the ambush, I- I'll meet you there, yeah?” You choke out, and he feels more tears spill.

“Don’t you dare tell me that, I'M NOT-“

“DILUC LEAVE BEFORE I CAN'T STOP MYSELF FROM DOING SOMETHING I'LL REGRET!” You scream, cutting him off and he shakes his head. He wasn’t going to let this happen. He wasn’t going to let the abyss take someone away that he loves once again.

“Stop, let go of your blade and let me take it from your hands, I won’t even do anything else you hear me? WHOEVER IS POSSESSING THEM DO YOU HEAR ME POSSESS ME INSTEAD DON'T MAKE THEM SUFFER THIS WAY!” Diluc screams, hands holding you by your shoulders, shaking you back and forth a bit.

“I can’t- not them. Not by the abyss again, please.” Diluc’s head falls foward, eye squeezing shut to stop the stupid burn he hates feeling.

You feel the warmth of his palms as they lay upon your shoulders, feel your body slightly rocking back and forth by his movements and you take your chance. The feeling on your arms only indicated that you got control over them again, but for how long wasn’t up to you. So you had to do what had to be done, to save him.

His heart aches, he’s lost his father to this same group of sick freaks now you? He can't bare it.

“Kill him or I kill you.'' The abyss mage whispers much closer than any other time it's spoken.

You stand your ground. So be it. If it was you or him that had to get hurt you wouldn't have to think twice to make the decision.

“Diluc….”You whisper and his grip on your shoulders tightens.

“NO NO!” He cuts you off, hands moving up until his gloved palms cup your face in his hands, making you look him in the eye. “ I wouldn’t dare. Stop telling me because I can't! I can't leave you here! Not after i've been so mean a-after I blamed everything on you, I haven't even apologized to you properly so im sure as hell not going to LET THEM TAKE YOUR FROM ME!” He grits though his teeth, the heat emitting from both his anger and pyro vision was intense though his hands were holding your face so gently.

“I-“ you open your mouth to speak but feel your jaw clench again, your time is up.

You really couldn't move more, the numbness spread everywhere making you unable to even blink.

“You've ignored me for too long, resisted when I told you otherwise, now the fruits of your labor will be presented right before your very eyes.” The mage laughs menacingly and you yell at the top of your lungs, you need to snap out of this trance.

“DON'T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON HIM! PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME HURT HI-“

Your shaking stills under Diluc’s hold, your breathing evening out too fast making his eyes dart down to yours seeing a single tear slip out before you look up blinking at him.

He almost lets out a sigh of relief until he see the corners of your mouth form into a smile that wasn't yours. It didn’t reach your eyes like it usually would, this one was forced.

“Diluc.” You call out, voice sounding much more distorted now making his heart drop.

“Nonononono.” His hold on your face still you as he feels your hands reach for his wrists, feeling you move them off, look of disgust etching your tear stained face.

He feels his heart sink even lower, he feels sick. They’ve done it, taken control, overpowered you.

“Why the sullen face now?” You laugh, the sound distant to his ears. The mage makes you jump back a few feet, making Diluc reach to grab you again but his fingers graze your arm just by a fraction of a hair.

“No please not- leave them alone I-'' The usually angry, inexpressive man was vulnerable right now, the abyss had to take their chance. After all Diluc is a hindrance to them, always attacking and ruining their plans. If they couldn’t get him they found you, the perfect candidate to take from him at least.

“Y/n please- I know your-“

“What were you saying to me earlier? Didn’t I ruin everything.” He sees your smile widen uncomfortably, your head tilting to the side making him clear his throat.

“I didn’t- it’s not you talking I know I- please don’t do this.” He held his arms out, wanting to grab you again as he tries to even out his own breathing. He wants nothing more than to find the worthless mage who has you under its control, once he finds it he swears he’ll show no mercy.

“Follow my voice y/n. You’re in there. Don’t let them take over,” He steps closer. “Just come back to me, you can do this.” His voice is much lower, from your tunnel vision you see him nearing you, his voice does reach your ears but you can’t even move in the darkness anymore.

“You can’t make me leave you alone! Jean and I have to scold you still! For being reckless as always, touching something you weren’t supposed to make her worry me worry and,” his hand reaches out to you. “So I can properly apologize to you, tell you how much I didn’t mean anything I’ve sai-

“Diluc,” you cut him off, the rasp to your voice wasn’t there making his eyes widen, stepping closer.

“It’s too late to apologize now. If you want them back so badly, take them.” the voice that left your lips wasn’t yours at all.

In an instant you feel your grip tighten around the hilt of your sword once again and feel your heart drop.

This was it, it was going to force you to hurt him against your will, make you do something you'll regret for as long as you live. You never want to hurt the man you love.

You raise your arms up, other hand gripping the hilt and Diluc lunges forward, look of horror written on his features.

You don't understand why he does, why he'll throw himself at you when you were being forced to to attack him.

Everything becomes too loud in your ears, the abyss mages laughter ringing louder and the blood coursing through your veins makes you miss the scream of agony that rips through Dilucs throat.

“Y/N NO!” He reaches out fingers just right next to your arm but the sound of your sword cutting deep into flesh is the only thing you hear before it all stops.

Everything stops. Your rapid heart beat. The abyss mages laughter, Diluc voice. Nothing can be heard.

You feel the stiffness and tension in your body leave and your vision goes white, all the darkness leaving you finally.

When your vision fully returns you're too scared to see what you've done. It takes a while to adjust your eyes but when they finally come to, you see blood running down your sword and arms.

“Y/n, Y-Y/N please, look at me!” Dilucs voice brings you back fully, you’re finally able to hear again.

You don't look up at him though, your eyes travel to see where the blood was spilling from, though you were terrified to know. You felt sick already, if this was his blood on your hands you don't know what you'd do.

Your eyes meet where the swrod was pierced into and you shakily exhale, feeling a relieved breath exit you for the first time today.

The blood was all over your clothing due to the sword piercing you through your own chest.

No wonder why the sound of skin tearing rang loud through your ears, your own sword pierced through your chest that's why it was so loud to you. The abyss mage was right, you refused to let yourself hurt Diluc so it made you hurt yourself. Though in your mind it was the better option, because if someone had to get hurt, there was no doubt you'd rather have it be you.

“Hey HEY NO! D-Dont,” You hear him choke out, one hand holding you up as the other turns you to look him in the eyes, stopping you from pulling the sword from your chest. “I'll take you back! You'll be ok just look at me ok?” He brushes the hair from your face away and has to bite down on his lip from letting another wrenching sob escape him. You look so tired, so drained.

The eyes that usually hold little to no emotion were red from crying, extenuating his fiery irises. You don't want to see him like this, not this torn. He looks like he did the day he lost his father and it made you hurt.

Why was he so sad though? This was the best outcome there could've been. He wasn't hurt and that's all that mattered.

You feel your fingers twitch, lifting your arm a bit though it feels weird after being under control for so long.

He moves to pick you up, not wasting anymore time. He's gentle as to not cause more blood to spill, though he feels his shirt being drenched with the blood spilling from you he tells himself you'll make it.

He adjusts you in his arms and feels your shaky hand caress his cheek making him stop.

“Luc, it's ok. I- I found out,” You cough feeling warm liquid hit your palm. “Found their base while it had me under its control, this mission wasn't for nothing.” You explain. As you were under control you saw small images of the scenery where the voice was coming from making you able to pinpoint their location. You didn’t let it slip though, afraid you’ll ruin the mission once again. “They're out on the shore by Falcon Coast so you can take them down now!” You wipe the tear that makes its way down his face as he shakes his head no.

“That's not what's important I have to get you bac-”

“Tell Jean. You both can go and finish this, I don't think I can,” you lay your head on his shoulder, feeling sleepy, making his legs move faster. “I won't get in our way this time just make sure you get them ok?” you assure him, feeling your eyes start to droop.

“Y/n hey look at me! Y/n I need you to stay awake ok? Please, please keep your eyes open. I'm almost at the bridge!” He pants out of breath, almost sprinting now as he sees the city come into view.

“You’re warm Luc, thank you for holding me. I was so cold earlier, I couldn't feel my body.” you nuzzel into his shoulder and feel sleep take over.

You felt darkness surround you again but this time far more inviting than earlier.

“Diluc I'm sleepy, I'm sorry I don't think I can stay awake.” you mumble, feeling more tears hit your hand as it is still laid on his cheek. You move your thumb to wipe them once again.

“Don't be mad at me, I'm sorry. Don't cry either, you're ok so Im ok.” you hum, body relaxing in his hold.

“Y/n no, hey HEY Y/N!” He screams, feeling your hand drop from his face and he sprints faster than he ever has in his life.

“Wake up, WAKE UP! Don't leave me please. This was never your fault. Listen to me, you tried your best ok? I didn’t mean what I said to you, I-I'm sorry!” He feels your body go fully limp, another heart wrenching scream leaves his lips but he squeezes you closer to him, keeping your cold body warm.

Tears of anger and regret from how he treated you earlier spill from his eyes. The sword still sticks out of your chest but he dares not to remove it himself, your blood was on his hands, all over his clothing and he hated it more than anything. But he knows you'll live, you're strong, stronger than he is in many ways and he won't let you go either. He’ll find the one who did this to you, made you hurt yourself and make them suffer. But for now he prays to the archons above that they let you live, live to see another day that you deserve, so he can apologize and hopefully redeem himself, and keep you closer though he's terrified to do so, he can't let you be taken from him, not now, not ever.

_________________

authors note: helloooo lovelies!! ꒰´꒳`∗꒱ ITS DEELOOKS (early) BIRTHDAY WOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRUMPY MAN ♪┏ ( ･o･) ┛he’s so babygirl fr I swear LMAO -0- I very much love this man he is my second fave to write for (we all know Kaeya is my #1 fave <3) BUT I LOVE WRITING ANSGST FOR THIS MAN UGHHHHH so I present to you this angsty birthday oneshot hehe ihadtodothisimsorry BUT! I do hope you all enjoy, remember to take care and stay safe!^~^<3 (ALSO! I sadly had no time to edit so sorry for any errors!)

[eternally-frozen]

Peek-a-boo i.

Unreliable synopsis: How many masks can you stack on one face?

Author note: I return with nothing but a self-indulgent post that might or might not be connected to an old fic <3 On another note, send me an ask containing your interest for a drabble event if you want to see one

Warning: Dottore. Kidnap mention. Bro is a bit weird but it's okay, I love him. No beta because I will cry. Author is insane and the writing might be too

The room pulses with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Crimson eyes, glossy and void of light, gaze through you. Two pale blue strands hang on either side of his face, one slightly longer than the other. The ends of which curl like an untamable wave. His shoulders are tense, and he seems absent while his body is present. 

The man in front of you is zoning out again. 

You’re unsure what goes on in the mind of your captor, but these moments are the ones you fear most. You never quite know which side of him appears when he wakes up from his stupor. 

Silence takes over the room. You don’t move, you don’t breathe. In this moment you are merely a spectator—the very thing he used to be in your life before he decided to take a more direct approach in the current experiment.

‘Dottore’ clutches the wooden frame of the chair in front of him. His knuckles turn white at the strength he uses but his expression remains blank and devoid of any emotion. 

And then as, quickly as it came, the moment passed. 

The eyebrows that were previously relaxed are pushed into an unforgiving frown. His lips are pursed, and he takes but a mere second to regain his awareness. 

“You.” he spits out.

It was reported to be the coldest winter in the past two decades when you first arrived in Snezhnaya. The first nights in the previously abandoned mansion had been insufferable. The walls are too thin, the sheets too light, and the doors too loose. Cold air creeps up from every corner, forcing you back into the arms of the person you despise most. 

“I thought you were exaggerating when you told me about the eternal winters of Snezhnaya.” You wrap your second blanket closer to your body. The side of your body is pressed against the decrepit sofa in a desperate attempt to cover your back from the air.

In direct contrast to you, Zandik sits comfortably with his legs crossed on the sofa across from you. He is wearing a chunky, cable-knit sweater in a deep navy blue colour. The crisp, white button-up shirt underneath compliments the otherwise darker colour. The collar is neatly pressed and peeks out from the sweater. 

Paired with the sweater, he wears a pair of slim-fitted trousers in a dark shade of grey. These, too, are neatly pressed and fall just above his polished black shoes. 

He had dressed this way on the rainier days in Sumeru. It sparks a sense of nostalgia when you look at him now. The outfit is a nearly identical replica of the clothes he wore during your first interactions in the Akademiya. The only thing that falls short is the incertitude and cold look on his face. 

He shifts in his position on the sofa, uncrossing his legs, and then crossing them again. He scoffs at your attempt at a conversation opener. “Surely you can’t expect to blame me for your lack of knowledge regarding the environmental habitats of Snezhnaya.”

“Part of you is to blame. I don’t recall you ever giving me the time to research it. Nor did you warn me about your decision to kidnap me.”

He is silent after that. 

The truth should hurt. Given the way he acted during the last days of being at the Akademiya and the way he carried himself during your travels, you expected asperity—anything but silence.

A shiver falls over you again, and you curl yourself up tighter. 

Your eyes fall upon the Zandik in front of you. It might be wishful thinking, but a spark of recognition, a small light, seems to have returned in his eyes. He feels less distant. Sure, he is far from the boy you first met, but you can’t deny that he seems softer.

It’s strange how abruptly he can change. Like the moon, he goes through phases where he comes off to be unwhole. Often, you don’t doubt he’s lost part of himself. In what? You’re not sure. But as soon as it comes, it passes, and he seems whole again. 

The tips of his fingers trace the fabric of the decaying sofa. His touch caressing what must be a mixture of dust and loose threads with the filling underneath being the sole foundation that keeps it from collapsing. 

You wonder how he came into possession of this large mansion, and why he had left it in the first place. You wonder why and how he ended up in the Akademiya. 

“I’m going to the library.” He says. 

Zandik stands up from the couch. The wall he had built between you and him stands as tall as he does. It towers over both of you, and you’re unsure whether this barrier protects or fails you. 

For the first time since he decided to sit in your company, his eyes find yours. There is a sense of urgency behind his next words. “Don’t follow me.”

You nod. The idea of following him has landed you in this situation. You long learnt that curiosity is what makes or breaks a man, and you’re not ready to gamble your life again to learn the secrets that Zandik hides.

Oblivion is bliss.

His footsteps echo through the bare room. Most of the furniture remains covered by linen cloths and aged by a layer of dust and untold history.

‘The library’. 

Oh, how you long to read.

To have the company of words instead of a man you've grown to despise.

[rainbow-scarab]

Hallownest Symbols, the Ancient Civilization, and the Pale King

Sooo. Since I made my post on Hallownest symbols I've had some new insights.

The Hallownest symbol, with its lined oval and three sets of wings, predates the kingdom as it was under the Pale King and White Lady. It can be found on arcane eggs.

Lemm, on arcane eggs: This civilisation may claim itself the first, but something else did exist within this place before Hallownest. Each egg offers a narrow glimpse into that forgotten age.

It's not just the arcane eggs though. The symbol can also be found in the Abyss, on the lighthouse. Sorta.

You see, the lighthouse isn't just one structure--it's two. It's an older, crumbling structure....and then the new shiny construction that the Pale King added on top.

And looking at the older structure, the platforms themselves have the Hallownest symbol on it. Oval with wings.

Another detail I've noticed in the Abyss is that this structure isn't the only one. It can be seen in the background around the void sea:

Just, further cementing the thought that the old crumbling building beneath the shiny new top is not a construction under the Pale King, but instead something quite ancient. Just one of many buildings, a conveniently tall structure for the Pale King to repurpose into a lighthouse.

So what does this mean?

Various sources in the game point to the Pale King having portrayed himself as the creator of Hallownest. Lemm, in his quote above. And some more examples:

Lore tablet in King's Pass: Higher beings, these words are for you alone. Beyond this point you enter the land of King and Creator. Step across this threshold and obey our laws. Bear witness to the last and only civilisation, the eternal Kingdom. Hallownest

Hunter's Journal, on wingmoulds: The bugs of Hallownest believed that their King created this world and everything in it. For what purpose, I wonder? Were his subjects companions, or toys, or children? Such a mind seems unknowable.

The developer notes in the game also indicate that the Pale King wanted to get rid of other gods:

The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a monarch/god with no other gods.

The dev notes are not canon and it's clear that they were never intended to be seen by others. But I think there's something to be said at least for him attempting a "singular vision". Uniting Hallownest under one rule, portraying himself as creator, creating a certain order. Some more quotes:

Bardoon: For quiet retreat did I climb up here, away from spitting creatures. Ormmph... Yes. High up. Away from simple minds, lost to light. Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm's attempt at order.

Mask Maker, reacting to Ghost having King's Brand: No bug has ever laid claim to this whole. Even the beasts knew their limits and bound their realm at Nest's edge. It is the ancient caste that made attempt at such vast rule. Hallownest's ruin reflects well those fared attempts.

I believe Mask Maker is referring to the Ancient Civilization having attempted to rule over all of Hallownest. There's a possibility they're referring to Hallownest under the Pale King, as "ancient" does not necessarily mean what fans call the Ancient Civilization (and indeed most instances of the word "ancient" refer to Hallownest under the Pale King). But "attempts" being in the plural, I think Mask Maker intends to draw a parallel here between the two civilizations.

Speaking of King's Brand...

I believe now this is the best symbol of the Pale King we have. His original symbol.

As I noted in my first post on Hallownest symbols, the Hallownest seal seems the most associated with the Pale King when it has the crown on it. And the few actual depictions of him, in statues, idols, and shrines, all have his crown, but lack wings. Save for the glowing silhouette of him in Ogrim's dream battle, there are no depictions of him with wings. He may lack wings entirely, or have some form of artificial wings.

In fact, I find it quite interesting how you can pick up monarch wings as an item.

They are described by the game as being made of "ethereal matter". The game manual calls them "wings of a monarchfly". It's possible that the Pale King had such wings as seen here, not part of his original body, but made somehow.

And, just to look at the symbols again...

If one were to superimpose the old Hallownest Seal from the time of the Ancient Civilization on top of the King's Brand, you'd get the current Hallownest Seal. Oval Bug body, wings, crown, and tail.

So, what I'm thinking, the impression that I'm getting....

The Pale King came to Hallownest. He saw all the evidence of the Ancient Civilization, which had already fallen. He took on bug form (which may have happened before or after he saw the symbol and other evidence of the ancient civ, but I have to wonder if witnessing Hallownest's history and symbols influenced even this decision to become small). He, for reasons beyond the purpose of this post, decided he wanted to rule Hallownest as king and "creator" (which again may or may not have been part of his decision to be reborn).

He established his kingdom. He took on aspects of preexisting Hallownest, essentially claiming the legacy of the Ancient Civilization as his own. He took on bug form, and gave himself wings, to match this old image, as if it was always about him.

He established his palace in the Ancient Basin. He had access to the Abyss, mostly closed off from the rest of the populace. He studied the void. But the bugs of the Ancient Civilization had a different attitude about void, as indicated by Lemm in the Hunter's Journal entry on the void idol:

Inspired or mad, those ancient bugs. They devoted their worship to no lord, or power, or strength, but to the very darkness itself.

The Pale King instead was worshipped as a god by his people. He instead treated the void as something to control. He studied it. He tested it. He created void constructs to guard his palace. He used it, to stake the future of his entire kingdom on.

I could go on and on about this. And I intend to. But this is as far as I will go in this post, meant to be an update to my last post on symbols. But, I already have a long post I put together months ago, didn't post, and just have to update with new thoughts. So hopefully, I'll be expanding on all the implications here for Hallownest history soon enough.

[gaoau]

i've been thinking a lot about Suo and i need it to stop, so i wanna analyse him a little bit and say things into the void. normally i like to psychoanalyse characters in fics but i've seen that side of the fandom and i do NOT wanna go there, so i'm saving myself by pulling the same thing i did with Nanao ig.

disclaimer: this isn't necessarily a theory about his backstory as much as it is what i personally wanna see happen. see, if i were writing him, i'd do very specific things that could go in various directions, but since i am not, unfortunately, writing him and he's not my character to fuck with, all i can do is yap. which, also, probably won't be very eloquent.

manga spoilers for literally the whole manga up to date btw.

i don't think we won't be getting a backstory on him, to be honest. with a character like him, yeah, the mystery is part of the charm, and having this much anticipation can suck ass if once the secret gets revealed, it doesn't stick the landing. but i doubt Nii Satoru doesn't have something planned for him. why would bro be leaving Suo's room illustration out of the fanbook if there wasn't something there to talk about? what is in his room to talk about? but that's not what this is about.

anyway i'm gonna be so fr Suo's built like a dog. he's clearly full of shit, and yknow, that's fine, good for him, but there are things that are so painfully obvious he's just straight up lying about. after his fight with Kanuma, which is deadass the first time we see him fight, he says he "doesn't usually get so emotional," which ?? shut the fuck up? that's not true.

i know a liar when i see one. we've seen him fight five times? six if i wanna be generous; in three of those he got crazy emotional (Kanuma, keel, and Endo), and just a tiny bit miffed with the gymnast guy idr his name fuck that freak. which, listen, to be fair, if someone touched a single hair on Nirei's head in front of me, real me too i'd kill a guy. but look me in the eye lil bro don't lie to me. real talk, though, he was more than ready to kill the keel dude, and was going to. he wanted to. he was shaking while Sakura held him back, don't play with me. he wasn't gonna stop just cause someone was interjecting.

bro was itching to kill, side-eyeing Sakura, spitting snark cause how's the hot-headed mf who jumps head-first into a brawl without a second thought staying more rational than him, the rational one? Sakura's talking to him the same way i talk to my dog after she tries to kill my cat. i'm ngl my dog has better self-restraint than this kid. he also just straight up xd's his way out of it? like "oh whoopsies! mb gang! i was just feeling silly goofy! 🤪" like he forgets he's not supposed to glare at people with murder in his eyes.

speaking of murder! this is where i want him to have killed someone before Bofurin. he's, like, 15? so there's not much time to work with, but the same way Kaji was going feral at idk 8 years old, i can see a world in which Suo actually went overboard when he was a younger kid. (i'm not saying this is what things are pointing at, but i want this to be the case. i would do this myself.)

he is emotional, i don't think that's up for debate. i understand why he gets so emotional and i do think it's very noble and cool and swag of him, that's a good person, somewhat, he cares about his friends and it pisses him off when they get hurt. i fuck with that. that's great, get him an ice cream (if he even eats fucking weirdo). but why are we acting like "i am chill ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ" when, clearly, that's not true?

here's where his teacher comes in. for how much grief i'm giving him, i don't think he's all lies at all. i don't think him liking Nirei and Sakura enough to not only speak highly of them, but also fuck a guy up for them, is a lie. i think he is as kind as Umemiya describes him to be, cause honestly, if Umemiya says someone is kind, then they probably are.

i don't think this is necessarily fake as much as i think it's borrowed. it's learned behaviour. it's teachings passed down to him by his teacher. it's discipline. it's not something that comes naturally to him, but it is something a person he respects and looks up to taught him, so he tries to live by it. he's very clearly been disciplined, probably got beaten into the ground by his teacher, got his ass handed to him again and again and again until he sharpened his reflexes and learned how to control himself in a fight.

he talks a lot about adulthood, talks a lot about maturing, talks a lot about self-control and whatnot. which, by the way, this is a child? lil bro you're fifteen go play on your switch idk. but i'd like to think this comes from someone telling him, "hey, what you did was not okay. you have a lot of strength and you're not an animal. use it wisely so you can one day grow into a proper adult." solely cause i want him to have killed someone. that's all i want.

i think it would make sense, really. how funny would it be if he was living similarly to Sakura? i've seen people headcanon him as a rich kid, but he lies a lot, and i wouldn't put it past him to be living in a sad, lonely one-room apartment. there's a billion ways things could be done with him. maybe his parents didn't care to try disciplining him, maybe he grew up with no parents at all. he has a short fuse, that's easy to tell, even if he acts like he's got everything under control. it's a very Suzuri type of situation, so maybe it's not the direction Nii Satoru is gonna take things, but one can dream.

as for the eyepatch, i haven't really thought much about it. the way i see things, he's gotta come from a neglectful background, so losing an eye would make sense. or maybe he did it himself, i'd love to see that (i would do that with a character like this if he was mine). if his eye is even missing at all, cause all things considered, it might be sort of just a way to give himself a handicap to remind himself not to go overboard.

which, circling back to the self-restraint thing, i like to think that's the reason he doesn't really use much excessive force. not to say he doesn't kick and punch, cause lil bro packs a mean punch, but he doesn't gravitate to hitting people. he's usually using his opponent's weight and momentum against them, which is why i was decently surprised when i saw him grab the keel dude and wind back to bash his face in. he's not violent, until he lets go of what little self-restraint he has, and then he is. it's values and principles that come from someone else telling him how to behave, except he still struggles to hold himself back.

to put it in simple terms, if he were my character, this is what i would do. i'd have him kill someone by going overboard as a kid, have him be taken in by this teacher, have him disciplined and clean his act up by beating his ass, and then have him parrot all these teachings at people he meets later. cause that's essentially what he's doing, he's just repeating things someone else told him. what does bro know about being an adult he doesn't even pay taxes go do your trig homework. but he tries, and you can tell he's trying, even if it doesn't come natural, he cares about his friends and he cares about becoming a better person, he's just a little too quick to snap.

you know what i mean? he cares about Nirei in particular, he loves Nirei, he tries to learn from Nirei. (guys i love Nirei i wont shut the fuck up). but fr, he's got that Nanao complex where he instigates things or sets things into motion and doesn't quite participate. he watches from the back, for better or for worse, but he doesn't necessarily involve himself in things. he keeps a distance. he feels like the other side to Sakura's coin sometimes, learning about people and how warm they actually are. he's all prim and proper and nonchalant, but he recognises he's no match for Sakura and maybe even Nirei. after all, it's always Nirei the one grabbing both of them by the arm and dragging them places.

he talks so big and maturely about not meddling too much with people who can't quite handle friendship yet, and then goes "!" when Nirei tells him "? fuck are you talking about? that's the more reason to teach Sakura about friendship." it's the look on his face after Nirei, despite Suo's long-winded and logical argument, goes to Kotoha and insists they help Sakura anyway. he's learning from Nirei too. also Nirei's crazy endearing so real me too but that's beside the point.

i don't think these parts of him are fake, but they might just be artificial. he's still integrating them into his own person and making them his, but he still slips here and there. he's not quite there yet. i hope he killed someone when he was 8yo. that's all thank you for reading thumbsup

[fayes-fics]

Innuendo Bingo

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Crack fic. Modern AU. Someone knows a LOT of stupid synonyms for orgasms...

Warnings: Teen and up. Sexual humour, a lot of stupidity. Non-explicit references to sex acts. Basically, I'm sorry.

Word Count: 0.8k

Authors note: Request fill for @sorryallonsy, who asked for Benedict crack fic with him coming up with stupid names for orgasms (ask HERE). I'm sorry this took SO LONG, especially as it is so short. However, I was in the mood to polish off (heheheh) something silly today, and this was just the ticket. Unbetaed cos it's ridiculous. Thanks, and err, enjoy, I guess? <3

Bridgerton family brunch happens once a month and is always memorable. The family usually takes over some swish eatery in central London for a few hours with their unique brand of noisy, chaotic camaraderie. Being Benedict's girlfriend, you are now a part of this melee. It’s one such Sunday when you are finishing your quite delicious but oversized meal that Benedict leans in.

“I can't wait to have you naked again,” he rumbles right in your ear.

You almost spit your last mouthful all over the table. After a few beats, you recover enough to reply.

“Your mother is right there!” you chastise sotto voce, nodding imperceptibly across the table, pulling a pointed expression, even as your mind is filled with images of him waking you up just this morning with his tongue between your thighs.

“Please,” he withers good-naturedly. “I have seven siblings. Do you really think this libido isn't genetic?” he jests, a hand on your knee now. 

“Stop it!” you giggle, not wanting to think of his mother that way.

 “Also, she is not paying us any mind,” he points out, crowding closer. 

Indeed, she is engrossed in a chat with Kate and has one of Daphne’s kids ensconced in her lap, diverting all her attention.

“Besides, are you telling me you don't want to have another orgasm today?” he goads, lips warm on your neck as those fingers spider higher up your thigh, knowing precisely what your weak spots are and exploiting them.

“Well, now… I didn’t say that…” you counter, eyes fluttering closed briefly at his onslaught. “But I might need a few hours after all this food,” you mime a bloated stomach.

It's his turn to chuckle, a warm sound that skitters over your skin. “That's fair,” he assesses. “Can't be releasing the Kraken if you have a food baby…”

You can't help but emit a bark of laughter at that. Everyone at the table looking briefly askance at you before resuming their discussions.

“The what?” you wheeze.

“You heard me,” he quips warmly. “Don't like that? I've got a million more,” he vows, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Don't…” you warn softly, but that just seems to goad him on.

“Making waffles? Popping the weasel…?”

“Waffles?” you frown, “I thought it was whoopee?”

“That too,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in that adorable way as he continues. “Petting the cat? Nulling the void? You can cuff my carrot, and I’ll dial your rotary phone?” each phrase is delivered full of mirth, close to your ear, and you can't help the stupid grin on your face.

“Stop it,” you protest weakly, nudging him gently with your elbow but having to muffle your laughter into his shoulder.

“I’ll stop when you stop finding them funny…” he counters genially. “Marching the penguin? Downstair DJing? Turning on the sprinklers? Debugging the hard drive?”

Each one has you hopelessly sniggering to the point you can't breathe, and little tears form at the corner of your eyes.

“What in God's name are you doing to your girlfriend, Benedict?” Anthony’s voice suddenly rings out from the head of the table. “It looks like she is about to die… hands where I can see them, please!”

Everyone at the table twists to look at you and laughs as both of you instantly raise your hands as if being held hostage; you mortified by the idea everyone thinks you might be up to things in front of them all, even though you know Anthony is joshing. 

But then Benedict murmurs a quiet parting shot out the corner of his mouth. 

“Chastising the family… jewels...”

And yeah, your loud snort is definitely undignified.

—

You are back at his place relaxing on the sofa a few hours later - When Harry Met Sally is playing on the TV - when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Fancy doing a Meg Ryan?” he whispers, his tone laced with levity.

“Bit late for that. We left the restaurant a few hours ago,” you sigh in mock disappointment, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I don't mind a private performance,” he breezes, trailing a hand over your neckline and nuzzling your cheek. “I rather like the idea of watching you paddle your pink canoe….”

Yeah, no, you definitely lose it at that one. 

Collapsing into him, your laughter does not even subsidise when he unzips your dress with his practised skill.

“Please… one ticket to the solo show just for me?” he implores, kissing along your jaw. “Visit that safety deposit box? Orbit Venus? A little double-clicking?”

“You are going to need to stop…” you object faintly, an odd mix of lightness from giggling so much and arousal coursing through you as his fingers circle over your underwear.

“Never…..” he teases in that gravelly tone that always persuades you.

“Fine, but only if I can watch you polish your bannister…” you throw back, pushing off your underwear with a comic flourish.

His laugh is deep and all-consuming, racking his whole frame as he suddenly scoops you up and strides towards his bedroom.

“Deal!”

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa @urfavnoirette

[me-and-your-husband]

I’m begging for Joel fucking a bratty reader into the cosmos, I just feel like he likes a lil mama with a spicy mouth and would LOVE to put her in her place.

Your writing makes me 😮‍💨

thank you so much! 🫶🏻

i wholeheartedly believe in this omg. you see when someone talks back to him in ANY setting?? riles him up so much (which benefits me because he's fine as hell when he's all riled up and angry 🤭)

a/n: no caps on purpose. my asks are currently open! check out my ask rules and send me somethin. also, have you guys noticed i have a thing for spit 😭

warnings: smut, spitting, pet names, mentions of death, creampie, forced orgasm? kinda?, dom!joel, kinda punishment, fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, rough sex, slapping, pet names, female reader, swearing

check out my masterlist if you'd like to read more of my work!

you slammed the door behind you as you followed Joel inside his place. with no regard for his neighbours, you yelled, "i don't understand why you're so pissed off, Joel!"

he was seething, hands on his hips, jaw tight, heart pounding, tension thick. Joel rarely raised his voice, opting for a low, menacing growl when he was angry. this time was no exception. he turned to face you. "pissed off? you think i'm pissed off?" he let out a dry laugh, void of humour. "i'm fuckin' furious with you."

you threw your hands up and scoffed in mock surrender. "the fuck are you mad at me for? it's 'cause of me we got out of that fucking shitshow alive," you fumed, causing him to scowl even further.

"you almost got yourself fuckin' killed. what if you got bit? what then, huh?" he wasn't giving up anytime soon. however, something diluted the rage in his eyes. there was something gentler in their glow. something had shifted in a matter of seconds. "what if i had to...what if you got bit, and i was the one who had to..." he trailed off. you knew what he meant.

what if you had been bitten by infected, and he was the one who had to kill you?

his eyes. those fucking eyes of his. they told you what his lips couldn't say.

i wouldn't be able to kill you.

his argument was sound. you understood where he was coming from. but your dignity was more important. in the moment, at least.

"go fuck yourself. i'm just as capable of taking down infected unscathed as you are, you prick."

Joel huffed out quickly, "i don't know what i'm doin' trying to have a grown conversation with ya', when you've got that fucking mouth on you."

you opened your mouth to spew something back at him, but before you could, he covered your mouth with his hand and pushed you up against his door. "clearly you need to be taught your lesson a different way, honey. and you're gonna take it."

you fucking loved when Joel got like this. practically lived for it. taking note that the softness in his eyes has faded to something unabashedly carnal, you rolled your eyes, hoping to spur him on further.

he moved his hand from your mouth. he smacked your cheek lightly, "none of that, baby. gonna put you in your fuckin' place."

"if you're gonna fuck me, then get on with it, old man. i don't have all day," you said, plastering on a mask of boredom. in truth, the heat in your core was sweltering with the thought of what he was gonna do to you.

he grabbed your jaw. "you wanna keep fuckin' talkin'? i'll make you sit on my cock all night. won't let you cum once. mind yourself, honey. got that?" at the threat of being deprived of your release, you gave up control. you nodded fervently in his hold. smirking, he said, "atta girl. now, open wide." you knew what was coming, and you happily accepted it. he spit in your mouth, running his thumb over your bottom lip. "don't swallow. don't get to swallow 'till i say. you understandin' me?" you nodded.

"now," he said as he lifted your shirt from over your head, unclasping your bra with no deterrence, exposing your tits to the cool air. he unbuttoned your pants, dragging them down your legs and thighs, "you're gonna take everything i give you, and you're not gonna say anythin' 'bout it. gotta teach my girl a lesson." his voice was gruff, painted with a dominant arousal.

Joel wasted no time. normally he'd take his time with you, exploring the soft edges and caverns of your body with his tongue, his lips, his thick fingers. now, he slid your panties down your legs and threw them to the side, gathering one leg and throwing it over his shoulder. you were glistening.

without warning you, he licked a broad stripe from your hole to your clit. you almost swallowed his spit in your mouth at the abrupt sensation. he tasted your folds, sweet slick dripping down his chin. your moans were trapped behind your lips, but he heard them nonetheless. he pulled away, circling your clit with his thumb. "don't worry, won't make you cum' from this," he said with a grin. you whimpered, knowing he'd deny you your impending orgasm but being utterly unable to do anything about it, except maybe buck your hips into his hand in desperation.

without warning, he pushed his middle finger into your puffy hole, your juices dripping down his wrist. you began to clench around him, feeling how close you were already. "just loosenin' ya up for me, baby. wouldn't wanna split you open," he let out a dark chuckle, as if it was only funny to him. he put a second finger in, scissoring you open.

when he noticed the way you began clenching around his fingers incessantly, the moans behind your lips growing more wanton, he pulled completely away from you, standing back up. whimpering at the lost, Joel delivered a light smack to your pussy. "cut that out. behave, or you're not finishin'."

Joel grabbed you by the hips, "turn 'round." despite telling you to do it, he turned you by the hips and pressed your front against the door. you could feel his breath fanning against your cheek. his hand reached in front of you to toy with your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you. "so fuckin' desperate for my cock. what happened to that mouth of yours from a few minutes ago, hmm?" he said, as if you could answer. you were hellbent on your release after he'd denied you so cruelly.

his hands palmed the flesh of your ass. then, his hands left your body completely. you didn't dare turn to look at him, but you could hear him undoing his belt and the metal falling to the floor. when you felt the leaking head of his cock heavy against your ass, you swear Joel'll need to mop the floor when he's done with you.

"still got me inside your mouth, girlie?" he grunted. when you nodded fervently and gave an enthusiastic "mhm!", he chuckled. "that's my girl. knew you could do it. maybe you're learnin' your lesson after all," Joel said as he lined himself up with you. "maybe you'll listen to me now instead of fuckin' off like a brat." when his cock pushed into your puffy cunt, you almost bit your tongue off in favour of swallowing his spit. muffling a moan, he pulled back out. back in again, cock kissing your cervix, your cunt pulling him in deeper and deeper with each thrust.

"fuck. fuckkkk," Joel groaned in your ear. he could almost hear you begging to let me swallow, Joel. "touch yourself."

you obeyed right away, hand sliding to your clit, circling it fervently, so close (so fucking close) to that white hot release. denied the first time, your body clenched around Joel's cock within a matter of seconds, the coil being wound tighter and tighter. "swallow," he grunted in your ear.

the minute you felt his spit (and yours) sliding down your throat, moans began to fall out of your mouth like a chant. mostly yes yes yes and please, Joel and fuckkkkk. Joel felt your cunt sucking in his cock, "cum on my cock, sweetheart."

at those words, you let go, body spasming in his arms, moans unabashed and loud.

but he didn't stop. when you began squirming, Joel gave a breathless chuckle, "thought we were done? haven't filled you up yet."

"please, Joel. i can't take anymore," you whined.

"yes you can. told me you were gonna take everything i gave you, 'member?" Joel's callused fingers moved to circle your clit, lighting your nerves in fire again. your previous orgasm left your body a grease fire, and Joel was adding water. "give me one more, honey. just one more. know you can."

your hand clamped around his wrist. the hand that wasn't doing a number on your clit held your hip, cock still spearing into you at a brutal pace. "can feel you so deep," you moaned.

"gonna fill you up, then, nice and deep. i'll be leakin' out of you," Joel grunted. he was almost there. "cum with me, pretty thing."

you reached your climaxes together, every cell in your body ablaze. Joel's seed filled you up, groaning in your ear as he worked through his orgasm.

when it was over, he cleaned the slick mess between your thighs, made of both your body and his.

if this was what not listening to Joel got you, you'd have to do it more often.

permanent taglist:

@winters-fairy

click here to be added to any of my taglists.

[seeingivy]

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks. 

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities. 

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits. 

“Eren.” 

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too. 

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side. 

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll. 

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth. 

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself. 

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up. 

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion. 

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.” 

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words. 

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood. 

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door. 

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep. 

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?” 

“Eren. Oh my god.” 

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms. 

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove. 

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana. 

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders. 

“What is it? Who died?” 

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic. 

His first thought is you. 

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-” 

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

Because it’s Marco. 

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen. 

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it. 

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together. 

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight. 

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one. 

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this. 

Eren’s quick to respond to that one. 

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks. 

eren: phone is on. 

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking. 

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone. 

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-” 

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.” 

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers. 

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits. 

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-” 

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard. 

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-” 

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. 

“How long?” 

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil. 

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers. 

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing. 

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it. 

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death. 

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds. 

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren. 

In full flesh, that Marco is gone. 

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight. 

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t. 

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here. 

But he can’t. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air. 

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper. 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods. 

That he’s here and he’s got you. 

“Anything. What is it?” 

“Is he dead?” 

Maybe not anything. 

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him. 

“Y/N.” 

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller. 

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.” 

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind. 

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard. 

“Yes. Marco’s dead.” 

And you don’t even know the half of it. 

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest. 

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-” 

“Y/N, come ins-” 

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots. 

“Wait, is that-” 

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks. 

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-” 

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help. 

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks. 

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.” 

“It’s just grass. What’s-” 

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth. 

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch. 

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says. 

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back. 

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain. 

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair. 

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.  

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off. 

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table. 

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you. 

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years. 

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands. 

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond. 

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them. 

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead. 

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away. 

“Welcome back, kid.” 

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself. 

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back. 

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you. 

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind. 

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had. 

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you. 

All you know how to do is ruin people. 

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks. 

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?” 

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.” 

“We?” you ask. 

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.” 

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation. 

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks. 

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous. 

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats. 

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group. 

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress. 

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them. 

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress. 

“Hi guys.” 

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you. 

Mikasa and Jean. 

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest. 

“Hi princess. Missed you.” 

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.” 

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid. 

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees. 

“I asked Historia.” you respond. 

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir. 

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds. 

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations. 

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too. 

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks. 

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile. 

“Really funny story. Sooooo….” 

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans. 

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling. 

“Was it cool?” you ask. 

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds. 

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him. 

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states. 

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds. 

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.” 

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds. 

“Connie!” 

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile. 

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.” 

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject. 

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away. 

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this. 

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look. 

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging. 

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins. 

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect. 

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything. 

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur. 

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours. 

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room. 

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco. 

“How are you?” Mikasa asks. 

“Okay, Mika. How are you?” 

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first. 

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to  you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here. 

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.” 

She smiles, leaning her head against yours. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.” 

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond. 

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you. 

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.” 

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep. 

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-” 

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies. 

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-” 

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.” 

You swallow hard. 

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-” 

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-” 

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard. 

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you. 

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch. 

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers. 

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door. 

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off. 

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room. 

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.” 

“I found yours! But where is mine?” 

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist. 

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond. 

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it. 

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.” 

“Quit moving your hands.” 

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand. 

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar. 

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?” 

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there. 

“And that it’s cute that you did that.” 

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door. 

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand. 

“You left it in the bathroom.” 

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are. 

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks. 

“No.” you shrug. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander. 

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show. 

“Eren?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” 

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget. 

“Of course. On set, in the-” 

“No, no. I mean, for real.” 

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.” 

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

“Do you think he’s haunting us?” 

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now. 

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated. 

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!” 

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.” 

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.” 

“Eren. It’s more compl-” 

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.” 

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says. 

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds. 

You smile, giving him a nod. 

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?” 

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.” 

“That’s a lie.” you state. 

“No one believed him.” Eren responds. 

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other. 

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands. 

You still love him. 

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn. 

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper. 

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers. 

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk. 

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-” 

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his. 

“He knows, Y/N.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.” 

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head. 

“I have something for you.” he murmurs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.” 

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks. 

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.” 

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh. 

“Never could hold his drink, could he?” 

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.” 

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind. 

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks. 

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-” 

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you. 

“Your new name is Margaret.” 

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.” 

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.” 

“Bruce Wayne!” 

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.” 

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.” 

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks. 

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on. 

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night. 

--

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other. 

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him. 

“Good morning, Con.’” 

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.” 

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice. 

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat. 

“Sleep well?” he asks. 

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.” 

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.” 

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.” 

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile. 

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet. 

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you. 

“I want to apologize.” Connie says. 

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it. 

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-” 

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh. 

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead. 

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you. 

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond. 

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now. 

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-” 

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?” 

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-” 

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?” 

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him. 

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say. 

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom. 

“Sorry?” 

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?” 

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response. 

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur. 

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?” 

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.” 

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.” 

“Connie, that’s enough-” 

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks. 

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-” 

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.” 

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers. 

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs. 

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs. 

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder. 

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all. 

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams. 

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan. 

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren. 

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.” 

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand. 

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper. 

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head. 

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows. 

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean. 

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there. 

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on. 

“Good morning kiddos!” 

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing. 

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.” 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek. 

“Bruce.” 

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds. 

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. . 

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ” 

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius. 

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard. 

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring. 

And wander in silence for the rest of the day. 

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed. 

--

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black. 

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set. 

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room. 

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands. 

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him. 

“Oh. Hey, you look-” 

“Are you serious?” 

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things. 

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?” 

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you. 

“Wait-” 

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

“How could you do this? To him? To me?” 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out. 

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder. 

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Eren?” 

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction. 

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg  Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-” 

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at. 

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills. 

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-” 

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-” 

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.” 

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.  

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.” 

You nod. 

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.” 

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues. 

You’re here and you’ve got him. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.” 

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk. 

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper. 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper, 

“No. No, no. Stop.” 

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side. 

“Why are you-” 

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering. 

“Why not?” you ask, frowning. 

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.” 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur. 

“Y/N. We can’t-” 

“Who?” 

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.” 

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake. 

“Why were you in here?” you ask. 

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.” 

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask. 

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last. 

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only. 

--

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say. 

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together. 

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face. 

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles. 

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop. 

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks. 

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them. 

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead. 

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?” 

“With Mikasa.” he responds. 

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence. 

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera. 

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him. 

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds. 

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera. 

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds. 

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile. 

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?”��

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says. 

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.” 

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off. 

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories. 

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo. 

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans. 

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.” 

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug. 

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco. 

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.” 

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen. 

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?” 

“Damn right you will.” you respond. 

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile. 

“Good.”

--

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

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