#part one of three posted today; make sure you catch them all!

[wovenstarlight]

(on ao3)

"HYUNG, IF YOU DON'T TURN THAT THING OFF, I'M GOING TO COME BREAK IT!"

Taewon jolts awake all at once, heart pounding. There's a blaring alarm coming from… beside him, but he keeps his phone on the desk across the room and it uses a different tone, so what—?

"HYUNG!" shrieks the irate voice of a ghost, and Taewon jolts again and calls back "alright!" before he realizes.

Ah.

Ah, but then that means—

He grabs the phone he discarded three years ago and scrabbles to silence it, pushing himself up off the bed, and—It's like missing a stair, the way his foot keeps going, except there's no stairs, it's his own leg that's an inch too short, and he tumbles onto the floor with a loud bang. There's an alarmed shout from elsewhere in the house, but Taewon forgoes answering in favor of shoving himself back upright and stumbling over to the door. The handle won't turn properly, he yanks at it, he can't deal with this right now, not when he needs to see him—to know he's alive—he needs to know, where is he, is he okay, please be okay,

The door gives way. Taewon stumbles past it and stares down the hall. Stares at the other end of the corridor, where his little brother stands, unharmed unhurt whole safe alive. ("…Hyung? Are you… You good?")

Alive.

("You're scaring me, haha, is everything cool?")

Alive.

("Um, hyung…? What—Is that the fucking door handle? Did you rip off the—")

Taewon's phone crunches under his white-knuckled grip, agony flares to life in his palm, and he hits the ground.

*

Hyunjae knows he's being shorter with his aides than he'd like. He can see the strange looks they're giving him and feel the way they tiptoe around him, clear as day.

None of that matters right now. He has a pounding headache and a need to get to Dodam already. Given the time they've regressed to, the guild should already be established, with its first major uptick in growth a few months behind them now. Hopefully the others reach as soon as possible, if they haven't already.

"Sir? We're here."

Hyunjae gives his driver a hurried nod as he slides out of the car, immediately doing a quick spin to check for—there. He makes a beeline for the small white car parked further down the crowded sidewalk and swings open the rear door.

"—really think the hospital—whoa, what the fuck? Who the hell are you?"

"Hello," Hyunjae says with his most charming smile. "You must be Song Cheolmin, pleasure to meet you."

"How do you know my name," the young man in the driver's seat demands, but Hyunjae's attention is instead on the man slumped over in the back seat, one hand holding a red-stained handkerchief to his nose, the other cradled in his lap and speckled with yet more blood. Taewon looks to be in poor shape, but beneath the too-deep eyebags and various cuts and bleeding orifices, he's still perfectly familiar as the him from years ahead, broad shoulders and cropped hair and frown lines that crease deep as those dark eyes look up, bottomless and clouded, and he says "Hyunjae-ssi?" says Hyunjae.

He(he) blinks. His(his) eyes widen, blue system light reflecting in his(his) irises, and he(he) says "Ah," and with that Hyunjae's muscles lock up and he crumples into the car on top of Taewon.

*

Hyuna glances towards the glass doors just in time to see Hyunjae keel over into a car. "Oh, jeez. I—Hold on, sorry," she says apologetically to the guy behind the front desk. "I have to go, I'll be back in a minute, really sorry."

Beside Hyuna, Yerim's mother looks alarmed. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, absolutely!" Hyuna gives her a wide grin for good measure but knows it doesn't work on Yerim, sitting on one of the armchairs across the way and staring daggers her way. "Just, I need to go get some of our guys."

Yerim's mother is mouthing our guys, brows creased in confusion, as Hyuna leans to the side and signs at Yerim. "Team's outside, I'll be splitting the skill with them. Be right back."

Yerim nods at her, levering up from her chair and hobbling over to join her mom. With that secured, Hyuna ducks out the doors to Dodam and weaves through sidewalk traffic to get to the little car she recognizes from the photos in Taewon's wallet. She rests an arm on the car roof, leaning down into the open door.

"Hi, Chief Song, Sung Hyunjae, and… new kid," she greets cheerfully, cutting off said new kid's panicked babbling. He gapes at her. That must be little Cheolmin. "Good you're here, let me catch you up—"

"Do you know hyung?" Song Cheolmin cuts in, looking abruptly suspicious.

"Uh, yeah, I'm… I work with him sometimes." There, that should be vague enough for them to spin up a suitable lie around it later on. "I'm just—"

"What's wrong with him? With—the other guy, ever since he showed up both of them have just been totally unresponsive, I don't know what's happening!"

Okay, the interrupting is a little annoying, but now that Hyuna studies the guys she can see what Song Cheolmin means. Taewon's holding himself very, very still, breathing through his mouth and holding a hanky against his bleeding nose. There's that crease between his brows that means he's got one of his worse headaches. Hyunjae, meanwhile, is sprawled over his lap, also stiff but in a hyper-tense sort of way. The… same brow crease is there, and he's frowning just like Taewon is, which is really unusual for him—

Wait. Shit. Hyuna scans him over, then Taewon, then Hyunjae again. The twitches in Taewon's fingers, matched by those in Hyunjae's. The little sways of Taewon's body, matched by Hyunjae's arrested jolts. "Chief Song?" she asks, just to confirm.

There's a pause. "Hyuna-ssi," Taewon croaks, sounding almost relieved, and Hyunjae croaks it right along with him in perfect, eerie synchronicity, right down to the little quaver on the ssi. Damn.

"He's mirroring," Hyuna says aloud for Cheolmin's sake. "Both of them are overloaded from their skills, I'm guessing. Here, I'll—"

"Skills? Hyung Awakened? When? Wha—"

"Song Cheolmin, right?" Whew. Whew. Deep breath, and then another. She forces her voice to soften. "In short, yeah, we all Awakened recently. We'll explain everything in depth, later. For now, it's very important that you sit really still and keep really quiet."

Keeping her voice gentle gets easier as she turns back to Taewon. "Chief Song? I'm going to tag you in, okay? Me and Yerim—she's inside with her mom—we can share the load, it should make it easier until Yoohyun gets here. That sound good to you?"

Both of the guys nod, tense and tight. Hyuna exhales and rests a gentle hand on Taewon's shoulder; he leans into the touch, and she sends over the invitation.

[Awakened Person Song Taewon has joined the Family!]

He goes limp under her hand all at once, right as her head drops into the metaphorical blender. "Fuck," she hisses with feeling, crumpling into the backseat on top of Hyunjae's legs. Dodam is fucking bustling, she realizes as Taewon's inherited skill prickles to life in her brain and begins lighting up the world around her with tens, hundreds, thousands of glowing lives. The sidewalk traffic hadn't seemed quite so intense on the way in.

Hyuna squints at Taewon. His nose seems to have stopped bleeding, and he's giving her a weak smile. The borrowed Stamina must have set in. At least his body can keep up with the demand of the skill, now, even if his mind can't.

Though it remains to be seen how long that lasts. "Your turn, crazy ass," she breathes, and settles a hand on Sung Hyunjae's ankle.

*

Yerim has already been wanting to cry at the ache of her ankles from when she sprinted to get her mom, and at her mom being alive, and at how the Dodam staff look right through her instead of grinning at her and welcoming her home, and at how they won't get her a line to her goddamn ahjussi, she just wants to talk to family, is that so fucking bad.

So when she feels the Family bond shiver with new additions, she has a second to start crying at Taewon ahjussi's presence, before Hyunjae ahjussi's Mana sparks through the bond and her tears freeze solid on her cheeks.

Motherfucker, she thinks, and crumples to the ground as the duo's skills follow them through.

There's people crying out, rising from their seats, muscles tensing in panic, and Mama kneeling over her, grabbing her shoulders and shouting her name. She scrapes herself together with her scant hour of experience, forces her attention away from the crowds in the Dodam halls and out the door, to where Hyuna unni went. There's a split second where she finds them, piled up on each other like toppled Jenga bricks, Hyunjae ahjussi gasping like he's come up from drowning and the other two clutching at him for dear life.

And then, quite abruptly, the skills are pulled away from her with an insistent tug from Hyunjae ahjussi. Panic flares for a moment, and her shoulders feel cold—Mama yelps and pulls her hands away, and Yerim sees frost covering them, sparkling in the lights.

And then both Keeper and Skin slam right back into her in their entirety. Yerim nearly bites through her tongue trying not to scream when her head explodes with agony. She scrabbles at the skills, trying to push them back and split them between everyone, but then Hyunjae ahjussi shoves a spark of his own electric Mana at her, and it illuminates the spikes he’s made of the skills’ range.

Oh. Ohhh. Yerim sees it now. She draws away from her mother, stumbling to her feet, and limps out the doors, pushing insistently past the handful of life-lights that try to get in her way.

The spark of ahjussi's Mana is still with her. She pulls at him, and he gives in equal measure, raw Mana reshaped by her hands into a shell of pure ice around that spark. Light, set alight, and Taewon ahjussi lends her his Strength to toss it straight upwards into the air—Hyuna unni draws away Mana and the winds come to life around it, carrying it ever higher into the sky—

*

Far above them, three pinpricks of life reel back as the sphere of ice explodes into a flameless firework. Yoojin shouts, heels pressing into Blue's sides and wheeling her around so that they hover in place.

"What the—" He squints up at the flakes of lingering ice—not natural, but imprints of pure Mana—then looks down at the ground, where four human shapes wave up at him. Three of them aren't even visible by normal eyesight, sitting inside… a car?

The fourth stranger points insistently at the doors to Dodam, then starts signing. Her movements are too small to see from up here; instead he focuses on the shape of her hands, the cuts they slice through the air, the muscles tensing and relaxing in her arms as her fingers curve. We need to talk. Let us in.

He stares down at them, the little blobs that they are from this high up. The girl—with that height, she must be in her mid-teens or thereabouts—flutters her hands in a seemingly frustrated gesture, and then signs—

That’s Yoohyun's name sign. Yoojin's eyes widen, and somehow she must notice, because she gives a thumbs up and then points urgently at his brother's approximate position.

"Yoohyun-ah," Yoojin says, loud enough to be heard over the wind and Blue's wingflaps. He leans back into his brother, a reassuring weight. "There are people down there, do you know them?"

Yoohyun's crying too hard to respond verbally���has been for a while—so his hands shift where he's got them wrapped in a vice grip around Yoojin's middle. FOUR? he fingerspells slowly.

"Yeah, four of them. Two women, two men."

Yoohyun hesitates. Yoojin feels him out, frowning, as his tense limbs slacken ever so slightly. For him to be relieved, he must know them, so Yoojin prepares to hear acquaintances, or maybe colleagues, but definitely not—

FRIENDS.

Yoojin's breath catches. "Friends," he feels himself repeat.

Yoohyun nods minutely.

Yoojin hadn't thought his eyes could get any wider. "Okay," he says, and releases his white-knuckled grip on Blue's feathers to retrieve his phone and send a few texts to Soyoung and Sunghan.

Then he looks down again, waves at the quartet of stranger-friends on the ground below, and flies them home.

#my writing #my sranks #the s ranks that i raised #the s classes that i raised #song taewon #sung hyunjae #moon hyuna #bak yerim #han yoojin #han yoohyun #blue sranks #and featuring... #song cheolmin #kwon jiyeon ywbk #! #rankswap au #part one of three posted today; make sure you catch them all! #star.txt

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟒 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara can’t find the dvd anywhere and gojo has a decision to make

wc. 4k

tags. fluff, angst (kinda), reader is described as fem, possibly ooc gojo (my bad), cliffhanger-ish, any spelling mistakes blame on my cats, possible plotholes

a/n. several things to address: firstly my description of dvds and how they work ARE SO FLAWED IK DON'T JUDGE. secondly, look I get how rct works so not everything I say is accurate but like this is also about 2d men so who's to judge. finally I'm not too sure about this chapter so if its shit lmk BUT I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT <333 ily all but I do have upcoming exams so the ending(s), won't be posted till possibly early February as I have to get back to studying :(

previous part / final part / series masterlist

“guys we’ve lost it.” nobara pushed up her mattress, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she peered beneath the wooden slats. all there was was her suitcase and a bag from an expensive shop she’d convinced gojo to buy for her. “it’s gone. poof. here once and now it’s not.” the ‘it’ in question being the dvd they’d treasured for the last few weeks (well, yuuji and nobara anyways).

after gojo had taken the dvd – unbeknownst to the first years – nobara had ended up sleeping for the next fourty eight hours, and then afterwards spending several days catching up on the classwork she’d missed. she hadn’t had the time or energy to force her classmates into another movie night so now here they were, almost a week since it was last touched, finally realising its disappearance.

“do you want me and megumi to come help?” yuuji asked tentatively as he heard her curse as she dropped the mattress back down. nobara sighed, glancing around at the chaos she’d created. her room was a mess – drawers half open and half her clothes and books on the floor in case the dvd had slipped into a pile by accident. 

“it’s not in my room,” she said adamantly, pushing her hair back from her face in frustration as she struggled to piece together the final moments she had with the dvd. she could remember sending megumi away, beginning her little day of research and even some of the videos she watched (the arcade and the christmas reunion), but then she fell asleep and everything was hazy from there.

“when was the last time you had it?” megumi asked and nobara felt her eye twitch like she hadn't retraced her steps a million times already.

“the first day i was off sick. i was watching a few–”

“without us?” the pink haired sorcerer cut in with a gasp.

“what else was there to do?” nobara argued back with no bite but he quietened down nonetheless. 

a moment of silence settled between the three as each tried to figure out where it could have been misplaced or who could’ve accidentally picked it up. if nobara had dropped it somewhere outside of her dorm, could one of the older years taken it?

nobara was brought out of deep thought by yuuji flippantly asking: “did you watch any after sensei came to see you?” she froze at the implication of his words. at no point could she recall their teacher ever coming in to check on her – it had always been either yuuji, megumi or maki. 

“what?” 

several hours later, the three first years found themselves huddled on the benches, nobara in the middle and the boys either side of her. in front of them were the second years and gojo – the latter having said something to annoy maki as yuuta held her back from making a swing at their laughing teacher. the second year teacher was off ill today so the larger class meant that the three had a distraction as they tried to figure out what their next step was – if they even had one at this point.

the assumed facts were as such: the first years were no longer in possession of the dvd, and gojo had it. though there was little doubt that this was true, it didn’t stop them questioning the possibility – after all, megumi had pointed out, there’d been no alter in his behaviour whatsoever since the minute he’d checked on nobara. surely, even the strongest would be noticeably affected by a disk that immortalised a happiness and innocence he’d never be able to return to.

but then again, maybe this was just another thing that separated gojo from the rest of society. being the strongest came before all else, he didn’t have the time to mourn resurfaced memories.

“maybe he just doesn’t have it,” yuuji suggested.

“he has to,” nobara reaffirmed. at this point they’d exhausted all other options about where it could possibly be and surely they would have heard if one of the older years found what they had. “would he tell you if he had it?” she asked megumi.

“no,” megumi said quickly, shaking his head and leaning back on the bench as he looked over at gojo, “we… he wouldn’t talk to me about that. about them.”

“could we steal it back?” yuuji offered and nobara debated duct taping his mouth closed.

megumi scoffed, shaking his head, “he has six eyes. even if we tried, he’d know for sure it was us.”

“he already knows it was us,” nobara countered, not that she agreed with yuuji’s solution by any means. “which is why i don’t get why he hasn’t said anyth–”

“oi, you three!” the first years jumped apart from their circle, hearts pounding as gojo appeared before them with a smirk toying at the corner of his lips and his hands clasped behind his back. “whoever beats maki in hand to hand combat gets the day off tomorrow!”

“yuuji if you win, i’m taking your day off,” nobara called out as she trailed behind the aforementioned boy running to the centre of the field. 

“okay!”

unsurprisingly, all three first years lost against the second year. megumi came closest to winning but when he tried to use his cursed technique, gojo countered it, catching him off guard and giving maki the opportunity to sweep him off his feet with her staff.

gojo found himself still laughing over megumi’s shocked expression as he fell flat on his back as he stepped past the threshold of his office. even after all he’d taught the boy in combat, with no cursed technique it was hard to overcome the zenin girl’s strength and skill she’d mastered to take on her own clan.

he let out a small sigh as the door locked shut and, for the first time that day, he was alone with his own thoughts.

dropping down into his office chair, gojo crossed one leg over the other as he pulled open a drawer. on the top of a pile of unread paperwork for the higher ups was the dvd the first years were so fixated on. 

he wasn’t stupid; he knew eventually they would figure out he had it and, unlike himself, they’d been way less subtle once they’d put two and two together. yuuji’s speech had tripled in speed, nobara was way too keen on being anywhere but where he was and megumi… gojo couldn’t forget the guilt and hurt in the teenage boy’s eyes after telling him you were gone. it was here again, had been for several weeks, and it was only after stumbling upon the disk in nobara’s room that he’d understood why.

gojo gritted his teeth together as he held the disk up between shaky fingers. it was pathetic, he scolded himself, it was just a bit of plastic with memories lasered into divots in a never ending spiral. it wasn’t worth the heartache.

if he looked closely enough, he could see shoko’s name written on the centrepiece in faded black sharpie. after gojo had stumbled upon the old camera several years after graduating from jujutsu high, shoko had taken back the camera to transfer all of the old clips onto dvds and given him, herself, nanami and you your own copies. he couldn’t even remember where his and yours were anymore, in fact he’d pretty much forgotten about their existence until a week ago.

he wasn’t sure where shoko had lost the dvd for the first years to get their hands on it but he hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to her about it. he hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything more than just spin the disk between his fingers, cry about it for a bit, and go back to pretending he didn’t have the last remnants of his youth in his drawer.

gojo glanced between the disk and the laptop on his desk. it was the last step he needed to take to hear your voice again. it had been on repeat for the last week in his mind; you uttering his name and that innocent question, would you last beyond your teenage years?

he missed it, missed you so bad.

raising megumi was a lot harder without you there; you were his favourite after all, bridging the gap between the two when they bumped heads with their contrasting personalities. gojo was all rainbows and giggles and megumi was everything but. you were a happy medium, creating a balance that maintained order in the home you shared. it was a peace that megumi deserved after losing his parents.

gojo clicked his tongue, reaching across to press a button that opened up a space for the disk. slotting it in place, he clicked the device shut and held his breath as he waited. it took several seconds for the files to load and then there he was again, back in those fields under the large weeping willow that was your spot.

the video was paused, exactly where it had been left, except this time gojo could actually see the screen.

your face wasn’t in it, just his. his glasses were off – balanced on your head if he remembered correctly – as he used your lap as a pillow. one of your hands was holding the camera while the other was held over his eyes to block any sort of light. the only thing he could make out was your cursed energy.

you were nearing the end of your first year and whilst gojo was growing more powerful, he was also growing more and more reliant on his glasses to stop himself from becoming so overwhelmed with the constant information he received with his six eyes. he’d overworked himself that day, as he so often did, hence why you’d dragged him away from the school to the seclusion of the tree. 

your questions about the longevity of your relationship weren’t meant to hold deep meaning, you just wanted to take his mind off of the headaches. gojo would choose thinking about you over the searing pain in the back of his head any day. yaga said that once he had a better understanding of his reversed curse technique it wouldn’t be so bad but until then it was just about riding it out.

gojo snorted at the notion. his reversed curse technique only marginally helped. you were what got him through the days when he’d lock himself in his bedroom with blackout blinds pulled down, hiding under his covers till he felt like he could function in society again.

he didn’t unpause the video, however, instead clicking onto the main tab with all of the files stored. 

lifting up his blindfold and dropping it down onto the desk, gojo took a deep breath before he began scrolling. unlike when the first years were simply searching for the ones with their favourite thumbnail, gojo was specifically searching for the ones he knew focused on you.

he needed to hear your voice again, to play it on repeat until it became so ingrained into his skin he could feel your touch.

gojo halted the cursor over the familiar date of your birthday, clicking on it without a second thought as the video filled the screen. it buffered for a moment, giving him a view of the dorm he’d practically spent three years in (despite yaga’s constant complaints and reminders that dorms were segregated on gender).

in the corner of your room was a stack of plushies that he’d won for you at arcades, and your walls were covered in photobooth photos and polaroids of your group of friends. his personal favourite was the polaroid you had pinned just above your desk. it was the two of you on new years eve sharing your first kiss of the year, sparklers in hand and the faint pink of a firework in the background. on the bottom of the polaroid was haibara’s handwriting as he’d scribbled on the date and a small smiley face.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!” seventeen year old gojo sung in the video, swaying the camera side to side above a pile of duvet and pillows. you were somewhere in the middle, half asleep and trying to push yourself deeper into the comfort of your bed and further from whatever the screeching was in your room.

you’d never been a morning person whereas he, on the other hand, had a reserve of energy that never depleted. it was what made getting up at the crack of dawn on your birthday so much more entertaining for him. even as an adult, when the two of you lived together in the comfort of your own apartment, he would either force you to stay up until midnight or gently nudge you awake at 4am to tell you he loved you.

“satoru,” you whispered groggily when you gave up trying to ignore his awful singing, lifting your head up just enough to meet his eyes. he would have done anything to see you physically before him instead of watching you through the lens of a camera. to be looked at with love as you did and not a mix of fear and respect. “if yaga catches you–”

“i’m just singing happy birthday to my girl,” his younger self dismissed, plopping down onto the bed next to you. he preferred your bed over his, a softer mattress he used to argue when shoko would complain about him showing up at your shared dorm several nights in a row. that particular birthday, he was pretty sure she’d been sent on a training mission over in kyoto. gojo’s hand came into frame as he ran a gentle hand through your hair, giving it a little pat when you quietly hummed at the contact. “he can’t hate on me for that.”

“yes he can,” you retorted, rolling your eyes with a tired smile. gojo felt his chest tighten – two years without waking up by that very same smile after almost a decade of having it everyday.

“i’ll blame shoko,” gojo shrugged with a grin, kicking his legs up onto your bed, despite your small protest that he was taking up all of your space. like you weren’t just as clingy as he was.

you huffed out a quiet laugh, your elbow digging into your pillow as you rested your head in your hand to stare incredulously at your boyfriend. “shoko forced the strongest sorcerer of the modern day to enter the girls’ dorms? uh huh.”

“woah woah, i’m the strongest of all time baby, i don’t do second best,” he corrected, leaning down to give you a peck on the forehead. you scrunched your nose up at the contact, but even through the viewpoint of the camera, he can see how your eyes dropped down to his lips.

“i know you don’t,” you smiled and gojo dropped the camera down as he moved to give you your first real kiss of seventeen. present day gojo sucked in a breath, willing for himself to get through at least one several minute video of you until he started crying.

the kiss ended all too quickly as gojo shoved the camera back into your face, the flash causing you to squint and squeeze your eyes closed. “now smile and say cheese, you’re seventeen!”

“woo!” you cheered half heartedly, giving in to his infectious excitement. blowing the camera a tired kiss, you shuffled yourself back deep beneath your duvet. “now can i go back to sleep?”

“as long as i can stay.”

“fine,” you dragged out, though you both knew you wanted him to just as much. yaga be damned. the video ended several seconds later and an odd silence filled his office. 

he’d only ever watched several of these videos once or twice – back when he still had you to curl up into his side and reminisce with him and laugh at nanami’s old haircut. if he was being honest, he didn’t even remember he’d recorded that (though he was glad he did).

gojo was more confident this time when he scrolled, his hands no longer shaking as much as they had been as he smiled at the life he once had. a life with you and geto.

this time he stopped at a thumbnail with the three of you; gojo holding up the camera high as the three of you posed like it was a photo. it was at one of only a handful clan events you had attended together, with both you and geto as gojo’s plus ones. he and geto were in matching suits and you were in a floor length dress that he’d spent way too much money on (but you looked so pretty when you tried it on he couldn’t not get it for you).

“hi this is mtv,” you clapped your hands together, “and welcome to my crib.” his younger self waved his hands around in the background (geto was recording), showing off the spiralling architecture that cost more money than fathomable. 

gojo quietly laughed in his office. the politics of clans and these events were the last reason he’d ever chosen to attend them. seeing you all dressed up and running around buildings with a million rooms were right at the top. his favourite had to be when both the first years, shoko and utahime had also been in attendance, but after haibara’s death, hanging around with the clans that upheld the institution that killed their friend seemed distasteful.

“this is my in house art museum collection.” you led geto along one of the vast corridors, pointing into a room with dozens of framed canvases of art from all across the globe. “this is where i come in for inspiration and to truly just feel art you know?”

“i wasn’t aware you had skills beyond stickmen,” geto interjected and you raised both your middle fingers at him.

“art is subjective, di–”

“woah, i have standards to uphold here,” gojo cupped a hand over your mouth, stopping any expletive leaving you. you hummed in annoyance and the white haired sorcerer grinned, nodding his head over to a partially opened door. “we don’t need to argue when we have a whole cinema room to ourselves.” gojo remembered the stain of red lipstick you’d left on his hand when he let you go (you’d refused to kiss him all evening because of your makeup).

the cinema room was massive: rows and rows of sleek leather seats that looked out of place when compared to the aesthetic of the building. this was someone’s home, though it looked like anything but.

“this is my cinema room,” geto held onto the back of one of the chairs as he loosened his tie. he lowered his voice as he leant closer to the camera gojo was now holding. “we used to have two but daddy converted the smaller one into a sauna so now we only have this one,” he said with an upturned nose, and you could be heard giggling in the background at his faux disgust.

you nor geto were from the same wealthy background as gojo was and loved to poke fun at his high status background.

“oi!” an official that was supposed to be watching for any curses or curse users that tried to sneak into the event pointed a light into the cinema room. “you kids shouldn’t be back here!”

gojo laughed, throwing the camera to geto as he grabbed your hand and led you quickly down the stairs to another exit at the bottom of the stairs. geto turned off the recording once he’d grabbed a hold of the device in favour of focusing on not being caught. it wasn’t like there would be any real consequence – they were with gojo satoru after all.

the white hair sorcerer smiled as he thought back to the rest of the night. obviously, you’d all managed to get away – though he had suffered your wrath at the fact your legs weren’t as long as their’s were and you were running in heels. two strikes, but he’d made it up to you by taking you out for ice cream instead of going back to hear the speeches.

it wasn’t an exaggeration to say gojo would have done anything for you then. 

gojo swallowed a lump in his throat as your last interaction came to mind. you were arguing, as you had been in the weeks up until megumi’s birthday as he inched closer and closer to being old enough to enrol in jujutsu high.

the only wish he’d ever refused to fulfil: keeping megumi away from jujutsu.

“he’s our responsibility.” you were yelling at him, desperate for him to understand your point of view and he was walking away. dodging your anger by going wherever his legs took him – anywhere but where you were. “we need to protect him. we can’t protect him if he becomes a sorcerer too.” 

“i can,” he insisted, halting in his place to turn and look down at you. his cursed technique was activated, though there was no need for it to be, and all it did was frustrate you further.

“i nearly died today!” you countered, pointing to your neck with a faint scar. shoko’s reversed cursed technique was almost perfect, but not even that could fully erase the deep lacerations that had almost taken your life. “where were you? you can’t be everywhere and help everyone at the same time. it’s just not possible.”

“i can try.” his jaw was tight as he responded through gritted teeth.

“and if that’s not enough?” you didn’t need to see his eyes to know his were locked directly onto yours, daring you to continue. he wouldn’t hurt you, would never dream of it, angry or not, but how could you of all people doubt him? “what then gojo satoru?” you uttered his full name like it was an insult, “you may be the strongest but he’s not. i’m not. we’re mortals compared to you.”

“you’re my family,” his voice broke.

“yu and suguru were family once too.”

gojo clenched his fists at the memory, at the reminder he walked out after that. you were trying to get him to see your concerns, and he’d taken that as you blaming him for the outcome of your close friends. that was the last time he ever saw you; tears welling up in the corner of your eyes at his insensitivity, at his inability to admit that maybe, just maybe, he too was just a mortal. 

everything you said was logical and made sense – he had almost lost you that day, having not initially received the message that you had needed backup as he was preoccupied with his own mission. by the time he had arrived, the curse had its claws dug deep into your skin and it had taken everything in him not to use hollow purple and bring the entire infrastructure down in seconds.

despite all he’d done to save you that day, he’d still lost you. he’d only delayed the seemingly inevitable by mere hours.

megumi sat up in bed at the sound of two knocks on the door. he highly doubted it would be yuuji since the pink haired sorcerer had only left several minutes prior, saying something about needing to meet panda. 

to his surprise, gojo stood before him, hands in the pockets of his pants as he half smiled at the younger boy. 

“is itadori here?” megumi hesitated before shaking his head. “good,” gojo held up the missing dvd, “we need to talk.”

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if ive missed anyone im so sorry send me a little reminder &lt;3

#snapshot ! #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fics #gojo drabbles #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x you #satoru #gojou satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . Under a raging storm, your difficult pregnancy comes to an end. And so might you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: sorry I have to post this in parts, Wayne's World ended up being over 16k, so I split it up in three. part one's word count is 5.3k. this was a real labor of love and i hope you love baby wayne as much as i do. and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

“Do you have a queen of hearts?” “Go fish.” You grumbled as Wayne reached forward, lifting–but making sure not to catch a look of the other side–a card from the deck to hand you. Your frown deepened when it wasn’t a pair for any of the cards you already had. “Nuts,” you mumbled, eyes darting to all the pairs Wayne had matched up on the small living room table, then down to the four pairs you had placed over your bulging stomach. It was risky of you to keep them there so late in your pregnancy considering how active your baby was but you didn’t feel like reaching too far for them, regardless of the fact that his kicks had sent them sliding down your sides twice now.

You’d been playing card games with Wayne for the past hour and a half, the raging storm having knocked out the power for the entire park. Eddie was with your friends, no doubt trapped at the pizza place Lucas’ parents had booked to celebrate his birthday. His actual birthday had been a couple of days prior but the Hellfire session that would have celebrated it had been canceled; you weren’t feeling too good and Eddie had stayed faithfully by your side. You hadn’t been feeling all that great when you’d woken up today, either. You’d forced Eddie to go, refusing to let Lucas down again even though you knew he’d understand. He was a sweetheart. So, Eddie had reluctantly gone, taking Penny with him.

The storm had come out of nowhere, you’d woken to a lovely day but you wouldn’t know it from how dark the sky had grown; the sun having been blocked by heavy rain clouds. 

Despite practically living at his girlfriend’s, just a couple of trailers down, Wayne had rushed over to make sure you were okay and to keep you company. You’d been watching an Indiana Jones movie and talking to Wayne about the apartments you and Eddie were looking at when the power went out but Wayne–always practical and level headed–pulled out some candles you’d accrued and a deck of cards he had remembered he stashed in one of the kitchen drawers to keep you amused.

You’d lost just about every game. Clearly, Wayne wasn’t going to let you win just because you were pregnant like Eddie did.

“This ain’t even one of them bettin’ games. How’re you still losin’?” Wayne chuckled, taking a sip of the tea (powdered, of course) you’d served him. 

  “Just my luck, I guess.” Wayne was referring to the game of Poker you’d played earlier. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to play. While he taught you a little along the way, you’d still obviously lost and you were positive you retained absolutely no knowledge regarding the game.

Sensing your frustration, Wayne leaned forward from his place on the recliner he’d dragged to the otherside of the small table and placed his cards down, settling back into the chair with his old man creaky noises that you’d grown comfortable with him enough to tease him about (and always made up for with a sweet kiss to his head).

  “What say you an’ I just talk, hm?”

That was fine with you. You gathered the cards on your baby bump, tossing them onto the table alongside his, “Eddie won’t let me name the baby after him.”

“Really?” Wayne asked, eyebrows furrowed in a brief moment of confusion. He’d expected his eccentric nephew to want to leave behind some sort of legacy, nothing better than a child.

  “He’s playing devil’s advocate, shooting down every name I come up with but never giving his input, I’m starting to think we’ll have to just put names in a cup and pick one after I have him.” You slumped further into the couch, pouting through your exhaustion.

  “Now that sounds like ‘im,” Wayne scoffed, raising the mug to his lips once more before he really took in your appearance. 

  You looked beyond exhausted, skin dull, dark circles around your eyes and you lacked the spark always attached to your personality. You didn’t just look miserable, you looked sick.

  The mug was placed back on the table as he regarded you with concern, “You alright, darlin’? Don’t look so good.”

  You gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, hands settling to rest on your protruding tummy, “I’m okay, really, Wayne. I’m just very tired. I’ve had high blood pressure for the last couple of months, so the doctor says I’m considered high risk.”

  You had a doctor’s appointment earlier this week—with another one scheduled for tomorrow afternoon—and she’d also told you to do your best to relax, not to move around a lot and not worry too much about it, or it could get worse, so you added, “I just have to take it easy. Being tired just comes with it.”

  Wayne didn’t think it was right, if you were taking it easy, you shouldn’t have been so exhausted. Tired, he could understand but you looked beyond that.

  “Why don’t we get you into bed?”

  You nodded, agreeing only because you wanted to let him get back to Maude. Wayne moved around the table, offering you his hands to help pull yourself up. It was pitiful, your stomach wasn’t even that big but you were significantly weaker this pregnancy compared to when you’d been pregnant with Penny. 

  You slipped your hands into his, groaning as he pulled you up.

  “Lil’ man’s got you making old man noises, too,” He joked, referring to the grunts he’d make when he stood up with creaking bones for which you’d tease him.

  You laughed, small but genuine as you placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, “Alright, alright. You’re not wrong but I’ll remember this.”

  Wayne chuckled at your response, hand on your shoulder ready to guide you to your bedroom. He had no intentions of leaving the trailer, planning on camping out on the couch or the pullout that was still tucked into the corner until Eddie returned.

  You’d just managed to get your back to pop in the most satisfying of ways when you felt a bit of pressure between your legs—like you really needed to pee—followed by a rush of liquid.

  “Oh, fuck,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut to keep the mortification of having just pissed yourself in front of your father-in-law at bay, “I am so sorry, Wayne, I didn’t even know I had to… to…”

  You trailed off, staring down at the wet patch of carpet surrounding your feet. There was no noticeable urine smell, but what really concerned you was the red mixed into it, staining the fibers of the carpet.

  “Wayne…” Your voice was so small as you reached around you to hold your stomach, as if you could somehow protect your baby.

  Wayne saw it too, eyes wide and horrified when he’d realized your water had broken.

  “New plan: let’s get you to the hospital.” He tried to urge you forward but you wouldn’t budge, trembling in his hold.

  “I—I can’t,” you stated, voice hitching and laced with fear as you finally turned your head to look up at him. Wayne could see the terror in your eyes, the panic and the shine to them. Everything he was feeling inside, too, he just knew he had to keep it together for your sake. “I’m barely 30 weeks, he’s too early, he has to stay in there!”

  You were nearly hyperventilating, head pounding as horrible thoughts raced through your head. Your hands moved frantically over your belly, trying to feel a kick from your baby. When was the last time you felt him being active? Was he okay? Why was he being so still? Why did your water break so early and why was there blood in it? And what the hell was that loud pounding sound? It was your heartbeat.

  “Hey—‘member wha’ you told me earlier? ‘Bout what the doctor said? You gotta take it easy, right?” Wayne was panicking just as much as you but he knew he had to keep you calm, had to reassure you. 

  You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes as you nodded, following up with a watery confession, “Yeah. But I’m scared.”

  “Thas’ okay,” he stated, recalling a time he’d said the same thing to another scared mother-to-be just hours before Eddie had been born. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and they’re gon’ take real good care of you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  For once, Wayne Munson’s eyes were easy for you to read, you could see the sincerity of them, the certainty and despite the fear still coursing through you, you believed him. 

  Finally, you moved and Wayne sprang into action, asking you the whereabouts of your coat, if you’d had a hospital bag prepped—which thanks to Eddie’s paranoia, you did—before he’d actually carried you through the heavy rain, out to the car. You’d been surprised, hadn’t expected Wayne to be that strong since he was more so on the gangly side.

  He’d ensured you were buckled in, made a last run into the house to make sure the candles were out before the two of you were braving the storm.

  It was a rough drive; Wayne was speeding but it wasn’t enough, the pushback from the wind made it seem like he was going uphill, losing speed rather than gaining it. The windshield wipers on his truck were working overtime to clear the constant stream of water from his view.

  You were faring no better, feeling weaker and more fatigued by the minute. Despite the cold weather, your skin became coated in a layer of sweat, though you were by no means hot. You couldn’t even register your own body temperature, too out of it as your forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. 

  “We’re almost there,” Wayne promised, glancing nervously at your slumping figure. He was scared out of his mind now that he knew you weren’t just sick. Wayne Munson was afraid you were dying before his eyes.

  You stirred just as he was a few turns away from the hospital, face scrunching into a frown as you whimpered. Wayne thought you may have been in pain, he was wrong. You were hit with an intense need to push and you did, once and hard.

  The dull thud of something hitting the floor mats was somehow louder to the two of you than the raging storm. Wayne glanced away from the road and inhaled sharply when he watched you look down at the unnaturally pale baby, the only color on his skin was that of some of your blood.

  You reached down and picked up the smaller than normal baby, cradling him to your chest as you stared at his face. It was all squished up, and his eyes were closed, lips turning blue. He wasn’t breathing. 

  You turned him over, belly down in your hold as you patted his back. As you grew more anxious and fearful, you pinched the bottom of his tiny, soft foot and while he didn’t cry, he finally moved in your hold, his back expanding with his breath. A sign of life.

  The relief you felt was short lasting, your fatigue returning full force as Wayne pulled up the emergency entrance. Two staff members ran to the truck, approaching as their rain ponchos danced wildly in the wind. 

  “Sir, are either of you injured?” One of them, a woman asked before peering into the passenger window. At the sight of you, clutching the baby still connected to you via umbilical cord, the door was yanked open and she bellowed for a gurney which her partner sprinted to collect. 

  Wayne didn’t bother moving his truck, it was towards the end of the entrance, anyways. He hurried out and followed as they loaded you and the baby onto the gurney, running alongside as they wheeled you in. 

  You were trying so hard to stay conscious, trying to ignore the sweet allure of closing your eyes for a few moments of rest. The doctors and nurses around you were all barking orders to each other with a couple trying to talk to you but you couldn’t focus enough to know what they were saying.

  Once Wayne saw what operating room they were carting you off to, he ran to the nearest desk, asked for use of the phone and phone book. Once he’d placed the call to the pizza place, relieved the lines were finally going through again, he’d had a staff member search for Eddie. It hadn’t been easy hurriedly explaining to him what happened, but judging by how quick Eddie had ended the call, it was only a matter of minutes before his nephew turned up.

  Then Wayne ran to the area he’d seen them take you too, hurriedly dressing in a gown, a cap and mask one of the staff had shoved into his arms. They were still prepping you when they finally allowed him in and you were no longer holding the baby. He was in the arms of a nurse, still connected to you with his umbilical cord. 

  “Would you like to cut it?” She hurriedly asked, offering him a pair of surgical scissors. Wayne figured he was a better option than a doctor severing your connection so he did as instructed. She immediately carried him away and out of the room in a rush.

  “Where’s she taking ‘im?” He asked, voice full of worry. 

  “Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” He was informed by another nurse who was setting up a barrier over your lower half, “He was born preterm.” 

  Wayne was somewhat familiar with it; he remembers Penny had briefly been sent there when she’d been born and suspected to have jaundice. After a few hours of whatever treatment, she was returned to you and Eddie, having a not very severe case of it which had been treated effectively.

  Wayne thought the whole process would be faster, he’d seen people rushed into surgeries in the movies and it had been instant but it wasn’t like that. They were still running around, setting everything up and new people kept coming into the room. It took more than ten minutes, but they were doing their best to keep you stabilized. He was holding your hand the entire time, squeezing every once in a while so you’d squeeze back and he’d know you were okay.

  You weren’t very vocal, eyes half lidded as they pumped you full of drugs to try to counter your symptoms and numb you.

  “‘M gonna check to see if Eddie’s here, alright?” He waited for your response, a very weak and monotonous okay before he gave your hand a final squeeze and let a nurse know he’d be checking to see if the father had arrived.

  He’d made it out of the operating room doors and was hurrying down the hallway, just about to breach another pair of large doors when they swung open and he had to jump back to avoid being hit. 

  “LORD!” He shouted and Eddie cursed, muttering a quick apology.

  “Where is she?” He panted out, chest heaving, eyes wild and frantic. Eddie’s hair was in disarray from having run his hands through it so many times as he sped to the hospital. He looked like the personification of panic, a mess.

  “Through them doors,” Wayne pointed in the direction he’d come from before yanking some of the sanitation wear off a nearby rack. “Put these on ‘fore you go in there. Where’s Penny?”

  Eddie was hurriedly yanking the scrubs over his clothes, “She’s in the waiting room.” 

  He clutched Wayne’s shoulder, wanting to thank him but desperate to get to you before he made a run for the room Wayne had directed him to while Wayne hurried to the waiting room, expecting Penny to be in the care of a nurse.

  He breached the doors and stood shell shocked at the amount of people who jumped to attention, faces filled with varying degrees of worry, anguish and fear; it was all of your friends, familiar faces he’d seen in the trailer before at one point or another. Penny’s curly head was visible from the arms of a tall redhead, wearing glasses.

  It seemed the entire party occupying the pizza parlor had filled the hospital waiting room, concerned about your wellbeing. 

  The sight nearly brought Wayne to tears.

  You could make out the sound of various monitors beeping, eyes trying to focus on the ceiling above you but everything was so hazy. You no longer felt fatigued, couldn’t really feel anything. A nurse had tried to check in with you earlier, get your attention but you couldn’t even hold a conversation.

  You felt a hand slip into yours again, and you squeezed it, turning your head to look at Wayne. Only, it wasn’t Wayne looking back at you. Eddie’s piercing brown gaze was easy for you to make out through the haze, and you were even able to smile.

  “Eddie.” You spoke it so softly but Eddie was still relieved, lowering his mask so he could press a kiss to your head.

  “Hi, baby,” he croaked out, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he stroked the side of your face. 

  “Dad’s here,” one of the doctor’s greeted him. Eddie recognized her as your primary Obstetrician, Dr. Eisenerg, the same doctor you had all your appointments with and the same who had delivered Penny. “Would you like the rundown?”

  “Please.”

   “Pre-eclampsia, I suspected as much during our last appointment, the next step would have been Bed Rest starting with tomorrow’s appointment, but baby couldn’t wait that long, could he, mom?”

  Eddie watched as you slowly shook your head, smile on your face because you were happy he was with you.

  “He was born nine weeks early, out of the hospital so unfortunately I don’t know his stats at the moment, he’s being looked over and assessed as I speak. He’s in good hands. I’ll have more information about him for you as soon as we get mom settled. We’re performing a Cesarean section to get the placenta out, she’s much too weak to push it out on her own.”

  God, Eddie loved your doctor. He’d write rock ballads in her honor for knowing exactly what to say to calm his ass down. After that, Eddie focused on you, trying not to pay attention to what was going on behind the cover they’d put up.

  “You sure know how to scare the hell out of me, baby,” he mumbled, eyes crinkling as he smiled under the mask, caressing your pretty face again. He’d never felt more fear in his entire life than when Wayne had spoken to him over the phone, informing him you’d had the baby early and they were taking you into surgery.

  You smiled and Eddie chuckled at the doped up expression on your face. He hadn’t seen it on you in months. You had to be high as a kite. 

  “Sorry, Eddie.”

  “It’s okay.” He pulled his mask down to press a brief kiss to your lips which you happily returned. “After you’re out of here, I’ll go check on our little dude, okay?”

  You nodded, reassured by Eddie that everything would be alright. You trusted him. Trusted him to let him know something you hadn’t yet voiced.

  “I’m tired, Eddie.”

  You slurred it so low, Eddie hadn’t caught it. “What was that, sweetheart?” 

  You didn’t answer him, eyes fluttering shut as multiple monitors began to beep, one at a higher rate and one much slower than the rest.

  “She’s hemorrhaging,” Dr. Eisenberg informed her staff, and Eddie paled. He’d heard that in enough hospital movies and shows to know it wasn’t good. The relief he’d momentarily felt fled from his body, quickly replaced by dread.

  He watched the movement around him, people shouting medical terms he couldn’t understand. He made the mistake of peering around the cover to address your doctor, horrified at the amount of blood on her gloves and the sleeves of her gown.

  Was that all yours?

  “What’s happening?” He demanded, breath hitching around the last word. 

  She didn’t look up at him, asking one of the attendings to escort him out. 

  Eddie called your name, over and over again as he was pushed out of the room, fighting to keep you in his line of vision. Your face, too peaceful looking to be resting, was the last thing he saw before the doors shut in his face.

  He’d made it back to the waiting room on autopilot, collapsing into the free chair next to Wayne, who was now holding Penny. When he’d first walked in, it looked like everyone wanted to bombard him with questions, the look on his face must have stopped them.

  He sat in that uncomfortable hospital chair, gaze unfocused and watery as he stared at nothing, the image of you on the operating table, eyes shut and appearing lifeless replayed in his head over and over and over again, torturing him.

  He had no idea how long he was in a catatonic state, only forced out of it when he registered a firm grip on his shoulder, shaking him.

  Wayne had been trying to get his attention since the moment a doctor called for him near the entrance of the hallway.

  Eddie snapped up, catching sight of the small woman, lightning fast and nearly tripping over himself trying to reach her, desperate for any news on your status. You were going to be okay, right? You had to be.

  “Edward Munson?” She asked.

  Eddie nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to find his voice, his throat was dry, felt like it was made of sandpaper when he cleared his throat, “Y-yes.”

  “I’m Doctor Houseman, Cardiothoracic surgeon, your son is one of my patients.”

  Right away, Eddie felt a sense of dread ooze over him, thick, heavy and suffocating like tar.

  “Your son’s limbs, most of his organs and responses are developing well. Ten toes, ten fingers and he can hear fine. His sight is a little sensitive, but should improve rapidly as should his growth. We are, however, concerned about his heart.”

  Eddie was sure he’d left his heart in that room with you, yet he still felt something in him plummet.

  “He has what’s known as VSD: Ventricular Septal Defect. A hole in the wall of his heart. It’s one of the more common heart defects at birth, normally the hole can close up on its own, be treated with medications or, if necessary, surgery. Because of his premature birth and how weak his body still is, he may not respond well to the medication and the odds of him surviving a surgery are low.”

  He felt the bitter taste of bile rise in the back of his throat.

  “We’d like to keep him for an extended stay in the NICU, let the hole try to close on its own. It still may be too much for him, but it’s his best bet.”

  Eddie squeezed his eyes shut at the first hot sting of tears, desperately trying to hold it together.

  It appeared today would be the day Eddie Munson’s world was due to come to an end, he knew he must have looked pitiful; a red-eyed, pale, clammy, crying mess on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You were lying on some operating table, bleeding out and now his son’s heart could possibly stop on him. Eddie’s was broken. He was broken.

  He sniffled, inhaling deeply before he forced his eyes back open, tears immediately cascading down his cheeks as he nodded and agreed with her plan.

  Dr. Houseman regarded him with sympathetic eyes.

   “Mr. Munson, I don’t believe in miracles. I used to be a general surgeon,” she started, “And then one day, my longtime boyfriend took me out for a night on the town, dancing. He had a heart attack that night, I spent the four hours in that waiting room thinking he was going to die. I’m not religious, but I prayed and I prayed he wouldn’t die. He did. 

  “I switched my practice, to see if I could save others from the same fate. Some I did, some were simply beyond anyone’s reach. Then one day, they brought in a little girl. Tiny thing, frail, six years old, the size of a four year old and she’d had a heart attack. I was sure she wouldn’t make it, tried like hell to save her but sometimes the circumstances just don’t work out in our favor and her body shouldn’t have been strong enough. But it was. She pulled through and she survived. I don’t believe in miracles, Mr. Munson, but she did teach me to have more faith in my patients. The same faith they have in me. Have faith in your son.”

  Then she was gone, whirling out the doors she’d come from. Eddie stared at them, wondering if she was on her way to tend to his baby. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t even gotten to live yet, wasn’t even a day old and he was fighting for his life.

  Eddie felt Wayne’s firm grip on his shoulder and he turned around, briefly staring into his sorrow filled eyes before he collapsed into his arms and sobbed, shaking with each one that wrecked through his body.

  Wayne held him like he did when he was younger, when Eddie had finally come out of his room and let Wayne comfort him over the bullying he’d faced and the nasty things the other children had said about him, about the family he came from.

  Eddie cried and he didn’t care his friends were most likely watching him, he couldn’t hold it together anymore. Not when there was a chance he could lose his son. Not when he could lose you.

  “I can’t do it on my own,” he sobbed out against Wayne’s shoulder. How was he supposed to care for Penny without you? His family wouldn’t be complete, it’d be fractured, it would be broken. And if—it made him sick to know it was only a possibility and not a certainty—he took his son home, how was he supposed to raise him without you? What would he tell them? His son would be too young to remember, but Penny would. She’d miss you so much, he’d miss you so much. “I can’t, Wayne! I need her! She can’t leave me, I need her!”

  The statement triggered a worrisome thought process, what if you did leave him? When was the last time he said he loved you? You knew it, right? You had to know, he told you all the time but no matter how hard he tried to recall it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said he loved you and it made him sob harder.

  Wayne’s arms tightened around him, eyes clenching shut at the agony his boy was feeling. He was hurting too, he’d been in this position before. He’d lost her. Wayne couldn’t let Eddie believe he’d lose you, too. Couldn’t let him think he’d ever have to raise his family alone.

  “She ain’t going nowhere,” he forced out, throat thick with emotion. He was trying to believe it just as much as he hoped Eddie would. “It’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay. They both are.”

  Wayne held him until Eddie stopped shaking and his sobs had subsided. Even then, he hadn’t wanted to let him go, wanted to protect him. But Eddie had his own kid to protect.

  He wiped at his face, taking a couple of shaky breaths. He wasn't okay, far from, but his broken heart was aching for someone he knew would manage to hold the pieces together without even trying, simply by existing. 

  He gave Wayne a brief, grateful smile that didn’t meet his eyes and walked over to Barb, his daughter curled up in her arms. He obviously hadn’t told Penny what was going on, as far as she knew, they had just been going to the hospital because her baby brother had been born.

  Her excitement quickly turned to exhaustion while her dad had been in the delivery room with her mom and she’d stopped running around to sleep in her grandpa’s lap. She’d been knocked out while Eddie was catatonic and had evidently slept through his hysterics, having been passed back to Barb when Wayne got up to comfort Eddie.

  He was relieved she hadn’t seen him like that.

  It was selfish of him, but Eddie woke her up, pulling her out of Barb’s arms and into his own.

  She stirred, raising her head briefly to look at Eddie with sleep heavy eyes, squinting before she nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. Then, as if she remembered the reason for their hospital visit, she pulled away, an arm lazily resting over his shoulder.

  “Daddy?” She asked through a yawn, lips stretching into a plump ‘o’ before she smacked them together. 

  “Hi, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her crown and nuzzling his face into her curls, the pleasant smell of her sweet strawberry scented shampoo filling his nostrils. Her scent was comforting. 

  “Ganpa says the stoke came.”

  Stork. While Penny knew her baby brother was growing in her mommy’s belly, she also simultaneously believed a stork would be dropping him off, prompted by a number of childrens’ books and cartoons. 

  Eddie had tried asking her about her logic once and she’d made him feel thoroughly stupid for not understanding.

  “Yeah, it did.”

  Penny shook her head, something Eddie noticed she did when she was trying to wake up. You did the same thing, shaking your head whenever you were nodding off. 

  His heart clenched.

  “I see my baby brudder now?”

  For a moment, Eddie struggled to come up with a reply. He didn’t want to tell her the full truth, she was still just a baby herself. He didn’t want to lie to her, either, but he needed to protect her.

  “Soon, sweet pea.” 

  She seemed satisfied with that answer, curling up against his chest as he moved back to sit in the chair he’d been occupying before Dr. Houseman called on him. She quickly made herself comfy in his lap, little fingers pulling at the blue material of the scrub top he still wore.  

  “Know what, daddy?”

  Eddie hummed, stroking his hand through her soft curls, letting them wrap around his finger tips and twisting the ends. They were still short, not long or heavy enough to be weighed down so it still looked like she had the Annie hairdo. She was so adorable, it drove him crazy.

  “He looks like a ‘tato.”

  Eddie stilled, brows furrowing down at her in confusion. 

  “What?”

  “He looks like a potato,” she repeated, matter of factly, “Ganpa says.”

  Eddie’s eyes darted over to Wayne in the seat next to him. 

  “She wanted a description. You try comin’ up with somethin’.” Wayne had only gotten a brief look at the baby, he’d been almost unnaturally pale and covered in something that looked chalky and pasty. Reminded him of how potatoes look after being washed and air dried so it was the first thing that came to mind.

  Eddie highly doubted a potato was tucked into an incubator in the NICU.

  “I don’t think he looks like a potato, sweet pea.”

  “No,” Is all she said, resting her head against his chest and effectively smashing the curls he’d been messing with there. She wasn’t agreeing with him and Eddie knew it. She meant no, you’re wrong.

  He snorted, blinking harshly at how sore his swollen eyelids were. 

  “Alright, potato he is.”

  Penny didn’t know it and maybe in the future Eddie would tell her, she was getting him through this. His anxiety and panic had not left him, but it was easier to focus on a little light when it was curled up in his lap, telling him all about her baby brother she had yet to meet, with certainty they soon would.

#pennyverse #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanction #stranger things 4 #stranger things volume 1 #stranger things volume 2 #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things vol 1 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #girl dad!eddie munson

[longing-for-the-past-times]

finding out it's your birthday

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it

notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: none

find it on ao3 masterlist

"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song

There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them

You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room

Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.

But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.

"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.

"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"

Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?

"Y/N? What's your take on this?"

You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.

So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.

"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"

Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it

"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.

"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"

Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders

"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."

It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.

"I… It's not that important, I mean…"

You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:

"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"

And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake

#call of duty headcanons #call of duty mwii #call of duty imagine #call of duty modern warfare #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost fluff #task force 141 #task force 141 x y/n #task force 141 headcanons #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x you

[himezoro]

love wins all (a roronoa zoro story, part 1)

tysm for your support on my last update ! i'm trying to post as much as i can. here is part 1 of a story called "love wins all" starring roronoa zoro, i hope this premiere will be of your taste ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

part 2 here.

warning! : smut (implied, so minors please DNI!), angst, female gender, (Y/N) insert.

wc : 2k.

・˚˖𓍢ִ໋⋆‧₊˚ ࣪⋆・

« So I guess my invitation got lost in the mail? » you heard the hoarse voice speaking through the opened door of your quarters. You kept on looking at yourself in the magnificent mirror standing in front of you, looking at how the white dress hugged your form, pretending not to have heard the said voice, ignoring the immediate chills it sent down your spine. You knew who these words belonged to, and so did your racing heartbeat.

.・゜゜・ 24 hours before ・゜゜・．

It was an ordinary day on the Thousands Sunny. Everyone in the crew kept busy attending their activities. Luffy was playing with Usopp and Chopper, Franky kept himself busy with the ship’s artillery, Sanji was preparing dinner with Brook playing beautiful pieces of violin by his side, while Nami and Robin were busy talking. Zoro was enjoying his nap under the sun. It was an ordinary day, but a perfect day to spend.

Zoro liked hanging alone, to concentrate on his goal, to meditate. Sometimes, and only sometimes, would he allow himself to wander through his memories, and the ones of one particular night, before he even joined the crew, before he met Luffy almost three years ago. The night he spent by your side, kissing you until your lungs gave out, making love to you like he never made love to anyone, because you were his first, and vice versa. The night he laughed his heart off, the night he traced hearts all over your thighs while gripping them hard as he fucked you with all his might. The night he heard you say “I love you”, the night he gave his heart to you, the night he swore won’t ever end.

The night before he walked away saying his dream was unstoppable. The night he said “it was not the right time”. The night before he broke your heart, the night before he heard you cry. The night you said you hated him, and wished it never happened.

The night he wished to forget.

For sure, there were times he tried to reach out for you. First, he thought of a letter, but only contemplated the paper he took from Nami’s stationary before smashing it into a ball and slamming it to the wall. Once the crew got a Den Den Mushi, he thought about calling you. And he did, multiple times, always hanging up when he heard the sound of the voice he loved so much it haunted him at night.

Sometimes he would catch himself thinking about how you would fit onto the ship, into the crew that became his family. He knew the girls would adore you, and that Usopp’s stories would make you laugh. He knew Luffy would live by your kindness and take advantage of it during dinner. He knew you would love hugging Chopper and eat Sanji’s treats, even though this latest thought triggered his jealousy, since he knew the cook would be head over heels for you.

And when he lingered there alone, his usual frown on his napping face, he suddenly felt his ears pick, tickling.

“Did you see the news on the paper? It says the wedding of the century is going to happen!” Nami exclaimed, the paper still in her hand while Robin sipped on her tea, tilting her head to take a peek at the head title.

“Ono Nusjuro, the rich bachelor noble, son of Ethanbaron Nusjuro, to marry (Y/N) tomorrow for the wedding of the century! It sure sounds decadent” Robin laughed, letting Nami get back to her commenting.

“Come on, doesn’t he look quite hot? Honestly, if he weren’t a filthy noble and I was not the Pirate queen I am today, I would definitely have tried to date him. I mean, look at his eyes? HIS FACE? I mean, the dude’s perfect.”

Before Robin could interfere, Usopp and Sanji got to their table wondering what the fuss was about, while Zoro remained at his place. After all, it was just your name. It didn’t mean it was you.

It can’t be, he inwardly scoffed.

“Oh LAWD, who’s that gorgeous girl? Don’t tell me she’s going to marry that jackass? I mean, yeah he’s got money and all and he’s a little handsome but did he live as much adventures as I have?” Usopp said while staring at the papers above Nami’s shoulder.

“Quelle beauté... (what a beauty). She’s an angel bestowed by the Gods to walk on this planet and let us dream. Such a shame that sloth is taking her away, while I would treat her like the Queen she is meant to be...” Sanji sighed.

It can’t be, it couldn’t. Zoro thought, his logic gaining power.

“Just imagine the amount of food there’s going to be. I mean, the guy’s family is loaded. And the clothes, the jewelry…” Nami kept on dreaming, not noticing that the captain ran towards them at the mention of food.

“Where’s that food you’re mentioning?” Luffy asked Nami while she pointed at the paper. Luffy took a while to read the title before stating they would go at that wedding’s dinner.

“Luffy, do you understand what you’re saying?” Usopp asked, wondering if his captain has fell onto his head and lost all sense of responsibility. “We’re talking about the wedding of the century, the one of Ono Nusjuro, son of a World Noble? And we’re kind of pirates?”

“Since when did that stop your sense for adventures, Usopp?” Luffy genuinely asked, not seeing the problem.

Robin took this opportunity to take the paper into her own hands and quickly go over the article again. “Actually, the ship’s heading into the direction of the island anyway.”

And this is how the Strawhat crew decided to crash the “wedding of the century”, and how Zoro’s countdown started.

.・゜゜・ 5 hours before ・゜゜・．

The whole crew felt excited at the idea of going to a wedding. It was a change to their routine, and it included dressing up and having fun, while remaining a tad careful as to not getting caught. Zoro could not bring himself to look at the paper that started it all, he did not want this to be true.

You were his. You were his only one. The first he ever had, and the last he ever would. You wouldn’t have hidden this from him. You couldn’t. At least, that’s what his brain kept on repeating as he stepped down from the ship with the rest of the crew.

As he followed the others to pick out an elegant outfit to fit into the sumptuous décor awaiting, he heard the thrill in the inhabitants’ voices.

“Miss (Y/N) looks so gorgeous. Master Nosjuro is so lucky to have her!”, “They’ll form such a brilliant alliance for their families.” “I can’t believe this is happening!” “What do you think Miss (Y/N) will wear for the banquet? I hope she wears a princess dress, like Cinderella!”

Zoro sighed, his stubbornness maybe doing his poor aching heart a favor.

They’re wrong, (Y/N) won’t marry that jerk. Not when she's mine.

.・゜゜・ 2 hours before ・゜゜・．

Zoro followed Usopp to the shop he picked and, while his friend checked the fitting room, laid his good eye on a beautiful ring with a rose quartz in the middle. It was shaped like a burning sun, and it couldn’t help but bring a small, sad smile to his lips. He paid for it before Usopp came out of the fitting rooms and shoved his new treasure in the pockets of his new found emerald green tuxedo.

I could resell it in case I get low on cash. He thought, not wanting to admit he hoped to give it to you someday, in a wild, feverish dream.

“Aren’t you excited to live such an event? I hope there’ll be beautiful ladies there, so I can find love as well.” Usopp enthusiastically stated, shaking Zoro’s shoulders as he walked out of the fitting rooms with his costume.

As they walked out the small shop and around town, Zoro felt his heart stop. Not because of the beautiful scenery in front of him, with the bright blue sky shedding hues of pink, nor because of the wonderful music that was played.

His heart stopped because there, on the wall, was a picture of yesterday’s article.

And it had your face on it.

The face he longed to see for so long, the face he could draw with his eye closed, the face he cupped in between his large hands as he glided his tongue on your luscious lips. The lips he had seen smile so bright, the lips he had seen suck onto his thick length, the lips that caged the most sinful noises he caused that night. And it had your eyes, oh, your eyes. The eyes he would gaze into absentmindedly, the eyes that twinkled when they would see him, the eyes he saw rolling when he hit your sensitive spots that night. The eyes he filled with love at midnight, only to fill them with anger and tears by five.

Zoro clenched his fists as he stared into your picture. His nails dug into his skin, yet, he did not feel any pain. The one he felt right now in his chest though, this one, he felt deep. He has been concealing this fear for the past twenty-two hours. Hell, he has been concealing his heartache with pride and dignity for the past two to three years. Seeing what he feared to be true shed a new sense of rage and hurt into his built body.

“I know right, she’s pretty huh?” Usopp said as he noticed his friend stopping in his tracks. “But these girls are not for us, we’re adventurers, pirates! Our adventures don’t have time for beautiful ladies… even though I have to admit, she looks stunning.”

“The most beautiful in the world.” Zoro muttered only for himself to hear, gazing at the picture of your face with a deep sense of nostalgia.

He kept at looking at your face for a while, going through his memories of you. That moment where you hit his face with the pillow because of his relentless teasing before he dived in to kiss you, that moment where you played with his hair and he almost fell asleep, that moment he let his hands caress your breast as you sat down on his lap and slowly grinded. That moment where he thrusted into you for the first time and felt your cunt swallowing and squeezing him whole.

It didn’t take him another second to tear that picture down and start running, leaving Usopp dumbfounded. He started running at full speed towards the palace the wedding took place in, clenching the picture of you in his large hand.

It felt right to run. He ran away all these years, he ran away that night. Now, he ran to you. For once in his life, Zoro knew where to go, and how to get there. It felt like his heart was a compass, and the closer it felt to yours, the closer he was to his destination, where he should have been a long time before.

It’s time, he thought.

Time to get to you.

to be continued here, in part two ♡︎

#one piece x reader #op x reader #opla x reader #one piece imagine #roronoa zoro #one piece smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece angst #one piece headcanon #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro headcanons

[seeingivy]

style

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

previous part linked here

an: this is 10k. I decided to leave the what am I to you scene for the next chapter bc of it...apologies....also I jsut wanted to post it bc I promised this at the beginning of the week and yday and now its been a long time coming

songs mentioned: style by taylor swift and glimpse of us by joji (minor mention of peace by taylor swift too)

--

--

“Wait, so. I don’t get it. You’re basically…acting like a couple on purpose?” Zeke asks. 

Eren spares a weary glance to his parents, matching apprehensive looks in their eyes, as he slides the salt and pepper shakers towards Zeke. 

Leave it to him to bring up the elephant in the room. 

One mention of attending an award show or a red-carpet event had the three of them dropping everything to come to New York at the drop of the hat. Especially when Scott Clarkson was going to be attending. 

Levi was more than happy to oblige them at the hotel they were all staying at, much to Eren’s dismay, which left him in his current predicament. 

That unlike his friends, who were secretly letting him indulge in something he probably shouldn’t and turning a blind eye, the three of them were never going to let it go. 

Eren knew that part of what he was doing was wrong. That he was walking a very fragile line and that their concerns, in some sense, were very valid. 

He had promised you a show. The problem was that it wasn’t just a show for him. It wasn’t even the slightest bit difficult for him to give the public exactly what they wanted to see – to go above and beyond to prove that the two of you were better than ever. 

He wanted that deeply – for it to be true. Fervently, desperately. It wasn’t hard to pretend when Eren had spent a majority of his life thinking about you, about what this would be like, anyways. 

It started out simple. Eren offered to accompany you on your first walk out in public that morning – after watching you stare at the people through the window the entire morning. There was a big crowd lingering outdoors, supplied by rumors that the group of them were staying in the hotel, and he was positive that some part of it was making you feel green. 

That and the fact that as much as you could front, some part of this had to be some level of nerve wracking to you. You had put on a brave face very well, but Eren’s deep rooted fear is that this’ll just send you deeper into that cave you retreated into last time – and that you’ll leave him waiting outside again. 

So he offered to do your first paparazzi walk with you. Cited that it would have been the perfect thing to build up more publicity, give them a greater chance of stealing the morning headlines about how today was Hyla’s birthday and the buzz around what she was going to wear tonight. 

It gave him an excuse to make sure you didn’t run off this time – that he’d be able to catch you if something happened. 

Except Eren took it too far. He had given you the permission to pump the brakes whenever you felt like it was too much and the fact that you almost never did made it impossible for him to stop. So he pulled you close whenever the paparazzi were near, brushing his nose against yours as the two of you smiled sunshine into each other’s faces. 

It was a disaster waiting to happen. Though from Eren’s expert point of view, he couldn’t fall any more than he already had. 

The problem would come later – when it would just become another memory that he cherished, had to relive after he was finally denied the promise of your company and friendship for good. 

When the show ended in two months and when you would have no reason to talk to each other again. 

Eren shakes the thought from his head as he looks back up at them. 

“Yeah. But trust me, it’s actually working. The record label dropped Ricky James and now that Y/N promised them her new album, they’re going to sever ties all together.” Eren states. 

“I just don’t see what that has to do with pretending to date. You know, especially when you’re still in love with the girl.” Carla states. 

“It’s sadistic. Even for you.” Zeke states. 

Eren shoves him in the side. With his parents' eyes averted, he takes the chance to knee Zeke this time to catch his attention. 

Could you just back me up? Eren mouths. 

Zeke rolls his eyes, before quietly mouthing his response back. 

Okay, fine! Just relax. 

Eren turns back to the two of them, mustering his best smile. And hoped that deep down, that fleeting flare of hope that’s been burning in his chest won’t go to waste this time – that there are real grounds behind actually bringing Scott Clarkson down. 

“There’s a certain publicity that you can’t buy with people who have…such a drama filled history like us. We’re aiming for a solidified deal with Ethan Cole by the end of the Met Gala.” Eren states. 

He flinches when his dad drops the fork against the ceramic of the plate. 

“Ethan Cole? Are you crazy, Eren? He’s never going to agree to a deal with you guys.” 

“Maybe a little. But I think that we could do it. I spent years being played by idiots like Scott Clarkson – it’s not hard to tell that’s how he keeps people around. And…we have an idea of exactly how to do it.” Eren states. 

“I don’t know, Eren. I don’t exactly like this idea. I wouldn’t exactly put your hopes on this.” Carla murmurs. 

Eren gives her a smile, reaching to tangle his ankle with hers under the table. 

He gets it. Deep down, he does. Because the last time Eren did this – with the court case and Connie and Lana at his side – Eren was downtrodden when Scott Clarkson’s life virtually stayed the same. Almost everyone knew, or had some semblance of an idea, that Eren had sued him, that Scott had terribly wronged him. 

He had gone through the lengths of an entire court case, just for it to amount to nothing. 

He still had his career. He still had the movies, a beloved producing company, and the godawful tabloids that ruined Eren’s life. People continued to work with him despite everything that had happened. 

“I won’t be like last time. It…it almost feels better this time around. I have everyone around me and I don’t feel alone, so.” Eren adds. 

“Well, you weren’t exactly alone the last time.” Carla states. 

“You know what he meant. It’s different.” Grisha murmurs.” 

“I do think she can do it. These people only care about what makes them money or…or moves their business forward. No one can do that for them like her. And even besides that, she’s really earnest in the way she moves. I feel like people could even become more aware of this type of thing if she spoke out about it.” Eren finishes. 

Eren looks over, looking to his mom’s brown eyes hoping for her approval. He doesn’t exactly find it, but there’s a nod. He understands it all the same – that he’s the one who gets to make the calls here, regardless. 

“Oh, let’s all relax! If Eren wants to kiss her and run around doing god knows what, that’s his business! He’s a grown man.” Zeke adds, sliding one hand around his shoulder and using his free one to pinch his cheek. 

Eren seethes, stomping hard on his foot under the table. 

“I don’t kiss her.” Eren defends. 

“Not yet, you don’t. That’s for next month, right?” Zeke responds, with a wink. 

Is this what Zeke thought backing him up was? 

Eren can feel his cheeks burn. Leave for the empty spots in the script – that Levi had stated he had some special plan for – the last part of the show was almost finished. And much to Eren’s dismay, Hange and Levi overrode his opinion in the writers room and included a kiss in the script. 

He’s just hoping for his own sake that they end up cutting it before the day comes like they did the first time. There were only so many things that he could stomach. 

“That’s filming, Zeke. That’s different.” 

Zeke rolls his eyes. 

“Right.” 

Eren’s thrown out of the loop when the door swings open, with Connie and Mikasa barging in with you at their heels. The three of you look particularly disheveled – sopping wet from the rain outside, giggly smiles on your faces – as Connie and Mikasa shake their hands at the group of them. 

“We ran out of toothpaste over there, Eren. We’re just gonna take some.” Mikasa states. 

“You needed three people to get one tube of toothpaste?” Eren asks. 

“Well, I was going to come. Then, Connie decided he wanted to accompany me. And then Y/N realized we were going to get it from your room, then decided to come.” Mikasa responds, dragging Connie off to the little bathroom at the side. 

Eren lifts his head to find you standing at the door, with…an almost awkward look on your face. The big smile that he saw seconds ago was virtually gone. 

“You know what! I think Falco’s actually calling me…so I’m just going to…” 

“You should sit. Eat breakfast with us.” Carla states, gesturing to the empty seat at her side. 

That’s when Eren realizes it – and it sends an overwhelming amount of relief through him. That you didn’t feel awkward around him but around his family instead. 

Eren racks his mind trying to remember it – when you were with them last. And if his memory isn’t deceiving him, it was the last Thanksgiving that you guys were together, a snowy November years ago. 

And he gets it, the immediate nervousness. God knows he felt the same way around Falco and Colt when they arrived – after Levi hadn’t listened to his advice to not cast the two of them in the show. Just to spare him some torture. 

Levi, obviously, refused to listen. 

You always had your guard up around Zeke and if he knew you half as well as he thought he did, he knows for a fact that you must feel embarrassed to show your face around his parents now after everything that happened. 

“Mom, it’s okay. You can go see if Falco’s good, Y/N.” Eren affirms. 

Eren watches as your eyes meet his, slightly faltering before you shake your head and drag yourself to the table. From his peripheral, he can see that Zeke’s already too delighted for his own good as Zeke quickly offers you the seat at Eren’s side and sits directly across from the two of you. 

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jaeger. I appreciate it.” you respond, smoothing the little cloth over your lap as you knit your fingers into knots. 

Eren busies himself with filling your plate, carefully sectioning small amounts of each dish, before he puts his hand in between yours. You welcome the touch, linking your fingers in with Eren’s under the table, as you shoot them all a smile. And Zeke’s godawful delighted smile back almost makes you sweat. 

“Eren. You should go check on Falco, since he was calling Y/N.” Carla states. 

“Huh? Oh, I-I’m sure he’s fine. Colt’s here and Gabi too, you know.” you mumble. 

There’s no way you’re sitting alone with his family. 

“I think Eren should check on him. That way, it won’t be in the back of your head while we talk.” Carla responds. 

Eren shoots you a questioning look at your side, as you release his hand, and give him a nod. You can tell that he’s hesitating, his movements painstakingly slow as he exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you with the three of them. 

“I apologize for that. He wasn’t going to leave unless you gave your approval.” Carla murmurs, as the three of them relax with his presence missing. 

Zeke takes the opportunity to take the seat at your side, filling the empty space Eren left. He leans closer, voice quiet as he whispers and nearly makes your heart drop in your chest. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hold your hand under the table like he did.” 

You fight the urge to spit the water in your mouth straight into the glass – but swallow the shock and battery acid sensation down as you spare the two of them a glance ahead of you. 

There’s a twinge of regret – that at one point, you used to be like their chosen family and now it feels like you’ve allocated a lifetime of hurt to their son. 

“I want to start by apologizing.” you state. 

The two of them look up at you confused. 

“For?” Grisha asks. 

“Everything I did to Eren. I…I care for your son an awful lot, though it may not seem like that at times. And I hope that you know that even causing the smallest bit of pain is something that I have to carry with me everyday. Something I’ll spend a lifetime trying to rectify.” you state. 

Carla sighs, setting her fork down in her plate and crossing her arms against her forearms. You can tell that Zeke’s priming some sort of response against her just from the almost enraged look in his face and you make it a point to spare him a warning glance not to. 

Whatever wrath she had prepared for you was what you deserved. And just like Eren and Mikasa, you’d spend your entire life fixing it till it was better with her too. 

“I’m not going to pretend to understand what it was that happened between you and Eren. I can read news articles and watch interviews and documentaries but…it doesn’t exactly make sense to me. I can admit that. I don’t know why you broke up with him and…and I surely don’t know why Eren thought it was okay to say everything that he did to you.” 

“Oh. That’s nothing, really-” 

“I don’t understand how you guys can make these big, love confessions without even confronting each other in the first place. Because…you’re not together, right?” Carla asks. 

You bite down on your cheek. 

“That’s right. It’s just for the paparazzi, trying to build up the hype around-” 

“No, I get that part. But the interview, the documentary. You guys did that for each other, on some level. So I’ll ask again. You’re really not together?” Carla asks. 

You sigh. 

“No. I’m sorry. I…I haven’t thought much about that because I want everything settled before I even consider it. Being careless ruined everything last time…and I can’t afford to do that again. I want to be careful with his feelings this time around.” you state. 

Carla pauses, before standing up and joining you at your side. And you’re caught completely off guard when she wraps her arms around you, pulling you up until you’re nestled in her arms and she’s rubbing at the sides of your biceps. 

You forgot – she used to do this to you all the time.

“You…you’re a good girl. We’ve always loved you, always loved how Eren was around you, but…just be careful with our son, okay? I don’t want him to be hurt again and he’s sensitive, if that much wasn’t obvious at this point.” 

“I appreciate that. Really, I…I don’t think you guys understand what it means to me. And I won’t, I’m making my sincerest promise that I’ll try not to. He’s….he means the world to me. He’s been my best friend as long as I can remember and…no one is going to be who Eren is to me.” 

And for the first time, the two of them spare you a glimmering smile. 

“He feels the same way.” Grisha states. 

You sigh, offering the two of them a smile. And right on cue, Eren barges right through the door, the worry on his face melting as the two of you offer him a smile. You can tell that he’s a little confused – as he settles back into his seat and gives a questioning look to Zeke. 

The two of them return to eating, as you dig your own fork into the food and push it around. That’s when Zeke slides his arm around the back of your chair, leaning forward as he gives you a smirk. 

You can’t help but feel annoyed. Not in the genuine, hatred way, but in the same way you did when Colt used to tease you when you were a kid. 

“So…family that I chose now that I see your brother as my brother? That is about me, right?” 

You roll your eyes, sparing him a laugh, as you elbow him in the side. 

“I’m so sorry to break your heart here, Zeke, but that line in peace was about Eren and Falco. Not about you and me.” you state.

“Yeah, dumbass. She doesn’t even like you.” Eren mutters. 

Zeke feigns hurt as he clutches his right hand to his chest and groans. You watch as Grisha rolls his eyes in front of you and Carla fights the urge to smile at his theatrics. 

“You’re a bitch.” 

“Language, Zeke! God.” the two of them cry, rolling their eyes at Zeke. Eren rolls his eyes as he stands up, stacking all the plates and placing them at the island as you turn back to look at the group of them. 

You shake your head, laughing, as you thank your lucky stars at how comfortable it is, that you’ve floated right back into the ease that you always seemed to be in when you were around them. And Zeke too, for the first time. 

Zeke spares you a genuine smile this time, as he gets closer to you. 

“I think that you and I could be really good friends. We both love Eren and…and maybe we haven’t always done right by him but…” 

You can tell that he’s getting tripped up by the words, that the sentiment that’s underlying is something the two of you have never really shared before. A closeness that brings you together. Because for you, Zeke was always something you needed to protect Eren from and for him, you were positive now, knowing what you did now, that maybe Zeke felt robbed of some part of that. 

Getting to meet his little brother’s first girlfriend. Tease him about it, give him some brotherly advice – the way Colt did with you. That maybe he wanted the relationship that Eren and Falco had with each other with you, if things were different. 

“Yeah. But…we’re going to do right by him this time. We’ll make sure of it.” you whisper back, averting your eyes to where he’s standing. 

Zeke breaks out into a smile, extending his closed fist out to you as you push your own against his. 

“One thing?” Zeke states. 

“What’s that?” 

Zeke has a nearly murderous glint in his eye when he says it. And it fills you up with a searing feeling of warmth. 

“You give that asshole Scott Clarkson hell. For all of our sake.” 

You give him a smile back. 

“That’s a promise, Zeke.” 

--

Eren can feel himself sweating on the opposite side of the red carpet. The stickiness of the hairspray is sitting heavy in his hair, the collar digging into his neck, and palms embarrassingly sweaty as he stares at the group of people around him. 

Lana and Sukuna are fussing over fixing Connie’s outfit, Jean and Mikasa are taking shots at his side, and you can tell that Suguru Getou is truly cutting his losses at this point. 

Satoru’s wearing an outfit with literal, raw meat on it. 

“It’s camp!” Satoru whines. 

“That was the theme last year, dumbass. And it’s not camp, you’re just a nuisance.” Megumi grumbles, pinching his nose as he joins Eren at his side. 

Eren gives him a nod in acknowledgement, as he watches Yuuji at Satoru’s side, snapping excited pictures of Satoru’s meat hat and pokes his fingers into the red flesh. 

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” Eren asks. 

“Everyday I question my sanity.” Megumi mumbles. 

“Could be worse. You could be married to Satoru.” 

“Don’t remind me.” Suguru groans at his side, the two of them sparing a laugh. 

Megumi chooses to keep the comment to himself. He swallows, pointing out that you had said the same thing to the pair of them when Satoru dressed up like that godawful cat years prior. Megumi figures that he’ll keep this thread of your invisible string to himself, for the time being – that it might not exactly be productive for right now. 

Eren catches Levi’s head shifting towards him in the peripheral, as he looks over and tries to follow Levi’s line of vision. And feels his throat constrict as Ricky and Hyla walk past, the two of them sparing him and Lana a sickly sweet smile, and take their spots at the end of the line. 

Eren notes that despite the fact that you had side-swept all of her designers to work with you, naturally she still put together an outfit. He was hoping that it would be worse than it actually ended up being. Though he supposed the birthday girl would always get what she wanted in the end. 

“I’m ready to wipe that smug smile off of their fucking faces and I’m so serious.” 

Eren nearly jumps as he realizes you’re now standing at his side, your eye nearly twitching as you watch the two of them. But all he can feel now is his own throat itching, Ricky and Hyla the least of his problems as his skin ignites at the sight of you so close to him. Your flowery perfume is invading his senses, as he fights the urge to ogle your dress full on. 

“Y/N.” he whispers. 

“Do I look stupid? The underslip they had for the dress didn’t fit me because Hyla’s so much taller that they just…told me to wear this matching set. I feel like I’m going to be flashing everyone.” you mumble. 

“Better for you. You look fucking hot. And apparently, Hyla stole her dress from a piece that was already in the museum. I’m sure she’ll ruin it by the end of the night.” Lana states, as Sukuna joins her at the side and links his arm through hers. 

The two of them have matching stitching on their outfits, wedding rings sparkling on their fingers. Eren clears his throat, your eyes expectant as you wait for a response, and his head nearly spinning from the overstimulation. 

“She’s right. You’re beautiful.” 

“You can say she's hot, Eren. It won’t kill you.” Sukuna complains. 

Eren watches as your eyes widen, a soft pink blush running up your neck, as you avert your eyes. And Sukuna, naturally, ruins the moment by making gagging noises only to get smacked by Lana after the fact. 

The two of them shuffle off, giving you a thumbs up behind their backs, as you turn to each other. Eren links his hands in with yours, giving you three squeezes, as he looks down at the dark makeup smeared around your eyes, making your eyes appear even bigger and brighter. 

Eren gestures his head to the left, snaking his hand around your bare skin in the dress, and lines up directly behind Ricky and Hyla. And the two of you wait for them to walk out and follow directly after. 

It goes exactly how it thought you would. You haven’t walked a red carpet since the last awards show – and from what Eren told you – it had been years since he had too. 

It was simple. 

Seeing Hyla and Ricky at a carpet together was almost a given, almost too predictable. It would hardly spare a headline in comparison to you two – together. Years after the fact, with Eren’s documentary behind you. 

The clicking and the flashing immediately throws you off your guard, coupled with the screaming of your name, that you almost fall off the stiletto of your heels. But Eren’s quick with it, hands looped around your waist as he held you up against him. 

“Thanks. I-” 

“Don’t look at them. Just look at me.” Eren whispers, voice almost gravelly. 

“What?” 

“It’s better that way. Just act like you’re above them. Like you and I are the only people in the room.” Eren murmurs. 

You give him a nod, catching his drift as you follow his lead. And it almost works too well – easing your red carpet nerves when you literally don’t have to acknowledge them and just have to hold hands with Eren all the way down the carpet. 

Eren stops dead center, right before the steps, as you spare a glance over your shoulder. The group of them are following – Satoru’s raw meat causing a commotion at the start – and you turn back to him. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I know you just asked me to get you a necklace for the Ricky thing, but I actually did ask them to design a custom one for you.” 

You smile. You had made it a point – that you were going to stick it to Ricky for that stupid night that he left you drenched in the rain – but you failed to consider that this would happen. Though in hindsight, you should have expected it. 

Eren was always thoughtful when it came to things like this.

“Really?” you ask. 

Eren nods, as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little charm necklace. You take it in his hands, admiring the little charm at the center, of the planet Saturn. You frown, turning it over in your fingers. 

“Does Saturn have some connection to Uranus that I don’t know about? I thought that I was supposed to be the moon.” you mumble. 

Eren laughs, as he shakes his head and gestures for you to spin around. You oblige, moving your hair to the side and feeling your cheeks heat up as the paparazzi snap what feels like hundreds of pictures – of Eren clasping the necklace and then pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. His voice comes out as a whisper on your skin as he pulls you closer to him, the two of you posing for the picture. 

“I mean, Marco was always a big fan of immature jokes. So I guess it does?” Eren states. 

You widen your eyes as you press your fingers to the charm, realizing what it means. 

Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn. 

The last time that you were at the Met Gala was when you performed with Marco. You can feel warm tears accumulating in your eyes as Eren cups the side of your cheek, a soft smile on his face. He taps the little pin on the lapel of his jacket, a matching little saturn charm as you bite down on your cheeks and smile back. 

“He’s here with us. Haunting us from his grave like he promised.” Eren jokes. 

You give Eren a teary laugh. 

“Yeah. I think he is too.” 

You lean your head against Eren’s shoulder, as the two of you walk straight up the stairs into the venue. There’s a glimmering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the stage decorated a sparkling silver. 

“Do you have a Maya Angelou quote for me? She always was Marco’s favorite.” 

Eren smiles. 

“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refused to be reduced by it.” Eren states. 

--

Falco and Colt are the ones by your side backstage. You can feel your hands shaking, throwing the mic from one hand to the other, as the two of them lean their heads against yours. 

You’re performing for the first time in years. Since you performed the grudge, at that godawful awards show years ago. 

You choose to use the wall of pictures as a distraction. One of your favorite things about performing at the Met was that they took pictures of each of the performers and pasted them to the big walls behind the curtains. People would sign the walls, the pictures themselves – to mark that they had performed here, to immortalize themselves on the wall. 

And it takes a few seconds, but you find the picture dead center. Of you and Marco. The two of you are hugging each other, cheeks pressed together with pink, teary eyes, with your names scribbled in Marco’s loopy handwriting underneath. 

seven by y/n l/n ft marco bodt 

And directly next to it, is a picture you’ve never seen before. Of Eren and Marco – their hands clasped together – and the same loopy handwriting underneath with the song. 

“He didn’t want to take that picture. He…he made me do it. Said he should still remember the moment, even if he wasn’t at his best.” Armin states. 

“Oh. Hey, what are you doing here?” 

“Just checking you’re okay. First time performing and all that. And I was back here with you the last time this happened too.” Armin murmurs. 

You smile, lacing your hand through his as you both stare at the pictures of Marco and you wrap your arms around Armin at the first sound of his sniffling. 

“Well, this is hardly about me performing, Armin.” you mumble. 

Armin gives you a watery laugh, before pulling back and wiping the wetness on his face away. 

You frown as you lightly dig your elbow into his side, trying to gesture him into talking. 

You were a little harsh when you talked to him last – when you had to convince him to finally forgive Eren. You regretted it after, being so rigid and forcing him into it, but you figured direction was what Armin needed at the time. 

“Marco said that even though that moment was bad for Eren, that even though he felt like he was never going to recover, there would be a day that he looked back on it and would relish in the fact that it was never going to be like that again. I hate the fact that Eren’s probably having that moment right now and shit is still so awkward between us that I can’t even tell him that I’m happy for him.” Armin murmurs. 

You stare at the pictures. 

“I didn’t realize you were…with Eren that day.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I called him a lot after the whole Girlfriend thing, he was kind of convinced that we all hated him. And I did the same when the whole Satellite Port thing happened too.” 

Armin pauses. 

“I was always there for him, until I wasn’t. And I feel like I’m fucking groveling but things still won’t be the same between us.” 

“Well, don’t lose hope about that. Mikasa and I-” 

“You and Mikasa are different. You’re…you overlook things easier than we do. Mikasa wanted you to be her maid of honor again after you said you wanted to sleep in her room – just because she realized you still loved her. Even if Eren knew I loved him, I doubt that would fix what happened with us.” 

You lean your head against your shoulder. 

“Did you finish the script yet, Armin?” you whisper. 

“What?” 

“Did you finish it?” 

“Yeah.” 

You look over at him and smile. 

“That last conversation? Between your character and his? He wrote that all on his own. It’s obviously a little bit more dramatic than he intends it but…the premise is still there. You and him, still best friends at the end of it.” 

Armin looks back at the pictures, running his hands through his hair, and ruining any semblance of styling in his golden locks. 

“You think Marco would be pissed at us? All of us?” Armin mumbles. 

“No. I know he would have loved to seen us all reconcile. That he would have been really happy for us.” 

Falco and Colt give you a gesture over your shoulder, as you shoo Armin back to his seat, and readjust the feathers on the sleeves of your dress. You give Colt a smile as he hands you the last piece of the outfit, the glittery garter belt that you wrap over your thigh as you take your cue. 

--

Eren gives you props for hundreds of things, but this one specifically. It was hard to find something that you were bad at, since it felt that you were naturally skilled at everything, but when he watched you, like this, he couldn’t help but feel like you were born for it. 

You really knew how to put on a performance. 

It’s pitch black, leave for your purple silhouette against the back of the stage. Of your fingers running across the neck of the guitar, playing the opening notes to the song Maki requested days prior – that you named Style. 

Midnight You come and pick me up, no headlights Long drive Could end in burning flames or paradise Fade into view, oh It's been a while since I have even heard from you (heard from you)

And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I Know exactly where it leads, but I Watch us go 'round and 'round each time 

Eren watches as you pause, the entire backtrack and music stopping, as the entire crowd jumps to his feet and starts hollering for you when they finally shine the lights on you. Eren watches as you give everyone a little wave, pressing your hands to your cheeks unable to contain your smile before you gesture for everyone to be quiet so you can keep singing.

And feels his chest fill with immense pride as you walk all the way down the stage, fingers fast and smiling from ear to ear as you sing again. He can’t help but feel embarrassed as the group of them – Connie, Reiner, and Jean – start smacking him on the back, screaming about how crazy his girl was. 

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

When you reach the end of the stage, Eren watches as you slightly trip on your steps, before averting your eyes down to your leg. In the mess of walking and the notches on the guitar, a part of your stockings had ripped. 

Eren was impressed that you were still singing, as you reached down and took the halves of the garter belt in your hands, before you started looking out in the audience. And Eren can’t help but feel like in that moment, that some divine power might actually be real. 

Because three years ago, it was Hyla’s birthday and he was stuck at a dinner table thinking about you. About how he’d never feel that rush, that thrilling electricity that seemed to thrum in his veins whenever you looked at him. 

And he knows for a fact that really, it almost has to be real – a higher power that was looking out for him the entire time. Because years after the fact, he’s sitting here, blushing profusely as you throw the garter belt to him to catch, before you like down on the stage and scream your heart out. 

To a song that you wrote about him. 

Take me home Just take me home Yeah, just take me home Oh, whoa, oh (Out of style)

Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time  'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style 

--

--

“Ethan Cole! You’re just the person I wanted to see.” you state. 

Fresh off of the performance, with the little note card tucked in your hand, he’s the first person that you beeline towards. 

On first impression, he’s younger than Scott Clarkson by a landslide – beachy, golden hair as he stands from his share to take your extended hand. 

“Y/N L/N! Quite the performance up there, my daughter is a huge fan. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ethan asks. 

You give the girl at his side a warm smile, the girl barely above the age of fifteen, as you turn back to him. 

“You know, I’ve really missed doing romantic comedies. I’ve heard that’s your forté,” you state. 

“Is that right?” 

“As fun as Attack on Titan can be, the drama can…be a little draining. I would love to get behind you if you produced a romantic comedy that I could star in.” 

You watch as he pinches his smile, eyes strained as he looks around the room. 

“I’m not sure how keen…some people at the company would be about that.” Ethan murmurs. 

“Who said you had to do it with them?” you state. 

“Huh?” 

You give him the best, most sickly sweet smile that you muster. “Who said…you have to do it with him?” 

You pull the little note card out of your backpocket, with your phone number scribbled over the top, and hand it to him. 

“You could easily produce it on your own. And if it was a star studded movie, you could avoid the risks of being associated as a start-up all together.” you state. 

Ethan pauses, for a while. 

“My own company?” 

“That’s right. You’re young, younger than your competition, and with how things have been going lately…I’m doubt they’ll stay afloat longer. If I were you, I’d capitalize on the fact that your own competition is about to be eliminated.” you state. 

You can tell that he almost doesn’t believe you. 

“I’ll have to think about it.” Ethan states. 

“Sure thing, Ethan. If the situation was right, I could even be persuaded to get some of my….friends to join. And I know you’re a smart guy – there’s some publicity that other people couldn’t even dream of buying.” 

You spare a glance over your shoulder to Eren at the stage with Lana, as she takes her seat at the piano and Eren begins adjusting the microphone at the stand. 

“I look forward to talking to you, Ethan.” 

And you give him a sickly sweet smile before you walk away. You settle back into your seat next to Levi and Connie – who had decided to take Eren’s open seat while he performed. 

“How did it go?” Levi asks. 

“He didn’t buy it.” you state. 

Levi gives you a terse nod, as you shake your head and readjust your seat to face the stage. Connie pulls his seat up right next to yours, the two of you giving each other a smile as you link your arms together and lean your head against his shoulder. 

“It’s your song!” you whisper. 

Connie leans his head on top of yours, voice quiet as Lana starts playing the piano. 

“It’s actually not. It’s even worse.” 

“Huh?” 

You lift your head off of his shoulder to eye him, and he only smiles, deviously, in return. 

“Let’s just say if it was my birthday today, I’d commit a murder after this.” 

You turn back to the stage, eyeing the little star decals hanging from the little ceiling, and watch as Eren nervously shakes his hands, before placing them on the mic stand. He turns to his left, giving the group of you a smile, before he starts. 

“I wrote this song exactly five years ago today when I was twenty. I was stuck at a birthday party, with a bunch of people I hated, and all I could think about was how I just wished that I was somewhere else. And really, I was hoping that the person that I really wanted beside me, had some semblance of that feeling about me too. This is my new song, it’s called Glimpse of Us.” 

When you're out of sight In my mind

'Cause sometimes I look in her eyes And that's where I find a glimpse of us And I try to fall for her touch But I'm thinking of the way it was Said I'm fine and said I moved on I'm only here passing time in her arms Hoping I'll find A glimpse of us

Eren always claimed that singing was never his forté and even from the way he moved – you could tell that he clearly felt more comfortable when he was acting. That he most definitely believed that his talents lied on a set rather than on a stage. 

And for maybe the hundredth time, it’s clear that Eren’s own visions of himself have clearly limited him. 

Because he’s beautiful. 

The stage design makes it look like he’s suspended in the sky, in between the moon and the stars, and the lack of production to the song – the fact that it’s just his voice and Lana’s fingers on the piano is chilling. 

It reminds you of that song that he wrote for you on the beach. 

Eren dislodges the microphone from the stand, tossing Lana a smile over his shoulder, before he walks directly to the edge of the stage that’s closest to you and Connie. And uses his hand to gesture for you to come closer, as he takes a seat and dangles his legs off the edge of the stage. 

You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach as you pull your chair closer to the stage, right until you’re looking up at Eren from your little seat and he’s looking down at you. And as he sings, he reaches down and places one of his hands on your cheek – the biting cold of the rings on his fingers cooling the warmth on your cheek – but doing nothing to help the burning in your chest from his dark green eyes, filled with such warmth and sincerity that it makes your heart race. 

You bring your own hand up to where his is on your cheek and he gives you a dimpled smile in return. 

'Cause sometimes I look in her eyes And that's where I find a glimpse of us And I try to fall for her touch But I'm thinking of the way it was Said I'm fine and said I moved on I'm only here passing time in her arms Hoping I'll find A glimpse of us

When he finishes, you press a kiss to the top of his knuckles and try to memorize the way the smile spreads across his face.  

--

Your last chance to convince this cowardly idiot Ethan Cole to agree with you guys is at the afterparty for the Met Gala, which coincidentally, you’ve never attended. 

The last time you were here, the entire ordeal was so draining – considering it was the first time that you had seen Eren since you broke up and you were here with Ricky – that you just skipped the party afterwards and went home. And you would have done the same thing now, since your hair was feeling sticky and your legs felt like lead from the heels, but you had to give it one last shot before you left. 

You had taken Mikasa and Jean’s lead, and decided to take four shots with them, by the time the party was in full swing. And right before the fifth, Eren suddenly materialized after being missing for the first half of the party and slipped it away from your nimble fingers and downed it himself. 

“Are you drinking?” he asks, shaking his head from the burn, before handing the glass back to Jean. 

“Well, obviously not if you’re taking my glass.” 

Eren reaches forward, fingers on the little ribbon around your neck, before you smack his hand off. 

“I like the outfit. It’s like the scarf from the show.” 

“That’s the point.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes as you both lean back against the wall, eyeing the crowd of people in front of you. 

“You should have told me. I would have matched.” Eren states. 

“How are you supposed to match? Your costume on set doesn’t have something as…obvious like the scarf.” 

“I would have just done the titan marks and called it a day.” Eren mumbles back. 

You nod, mulling over the idea, as you reach for the back hanging around your shoulder. And luckily for you, your lipstick is still in the bag – though most of the time, the bags that you have on red carpets have literally nothing on them – and instruct him to crouch so you can reach. He obliges, flashing you a smile, as you intently focus on drawing the lines under his eyes. 

Eren takes the distraction – the focus that you have from drawing on his face – and uses it to observe you. 

“Did you like my song?” Eren asks. 

“You’re insane. Did you really write that five years ago or did you make that up?” you whisper. 

“Nope. I wrote it after the last Met Gala, I think Hyla’s birthday was like a week or two after that.” he mumbles back. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, what you were hoping was actually true. When I was at that Met Gala, I really just wished that I was with you, sitting with the rest of the cast.” 

Eren laughs. 

“Who said the song was about you?” Eren jokes. 

You pause, only to look up to glare at him, before you lightly shove him. And you can tell that he’s joking but it’s still irritating. 

“You’re such a dick, sometimes.” 

“You were thinking about me?” Eren responds, closing his hand around yours and snatching the little tube of lipstick from your hand. 

He lifts his phone up, looking at the reflection from the screen of his phone, as he messily finishes off the marks on the other side, more messy and jagged. And as annoying as he is, it’s extremely attractive when he does it – capping the lipstick and curling it back into the palm of your hand. 

“You wish.” you respond. 

Eren leans against the wall and you join him at his side, the two of you eyeing Ethan Cole at the end of the hall, with Ricky and Hyla posted up on the other side. You can’t help but seethe with anger as you watch the two of them together, curling your hands into little fists at your side. 

“I saw that video that was going around on Twitter a little while ago. Of you and Ricky, last time you were here.” Eren responds. 

“What video?” 

“It was on the red carpet. He like…grabbed your arm and shoved you.” Eren clarifies. 

“Oh! That’s right. He was trying to introduce me to John and I said some crap about him to Historia. Then, he got all pissed saying that I had to be nice to him or whatever since he was nice to you guys.” you respond. 

Levi and Hange walk up to the pair of you, arms linked together, as you straighten up. The two of them had weary eyes, focused on Eren, as they look around. 

“Eren. He’s here.” 

“Who’s here?” you ask. 

“Scott Clarkson. He just walked in – guess he’s not deciding to skip after all.” Hange responds. 

Eren leans forward, angling his head over the crowd of the people, towards the opening at the front of the hallway and feels his throat turn to sandpaper. Eren clenching his fists so hard that he’s sure he’s drawing blood, the entirety of the conversation almost lost to him as he feels himself nearly losing balance on his legs. 

“You’re free to leave, Eren. We have a car ready for you. If you want to stay, we’re here with you.” Hange states. 

You look around to the other side of the room to find Connie talking to a group of people, none of which you knew. Mikasa and Jean are a few feet away – but clearly drunk out of their mind – and you can’t seem to find anyone else who could stay with him. You jerk your head back, to the two of them. 

“Listen. I’ve got Eren. Could you guys check that Connie’s going to be fine?” 

Hange and Levi turn their heads to the side, giving you a nod, as they speed walk to the other side of the room and you link your arm in with Eren’s. He’s still staring at the other side of the room and you lightly tug on his arm to catch his attention, his eyes almost dazed when he looks at you. 

“Sorry. Did Hange and Levi say something?” 

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. We can leave if you want to, there’s a car and everything.” 

“No…no, we didn’t talk to Ethan Cole yet. And, it’s fine.” Eren responds, shaking his head. 

It’s not that Eren’s exactly scared of Scott Clarkson, though there was a point in time that he most certainly would be. It’s more that he’s intimidated by what could go down, because while Eren knows that he isn’t exactly being swayed by him anymore, it’s a debilitating reminder every time he makes a comment that sends Eren tumbling back down. 

“Lana and Sukuna are together. I sent Hange and Levi to check on Connie. And I’m here with you, so…so all the bases are covered.” you respond. 

Eren smiles. 

“You’re here with me? What are you going to do?” 

“Punch him in the face.” you respond. 

Eren laughs. 

“Are you crazy?” 

“Do I look like a comedian to you?” you ask Eren. 

“You look more like a clown to me.” 

You feel your eyes widen, as you turn to your side and find Hyla and Ricky standing right to the left of you and Eren. You’re not sure what it is, but Eren suddenly squared his shoulders back, muscles tense at the sight of them. 

“Do you need something?” Eren asks. 

Hyla rolls her eyes as she looks at Eren, before turning back to you. And her eyes flicker to the necklace around your neck, before she looks back up at you and smiles. 

“Cute necklace!” 

Eren grins at your side. They took the bait. 

“Do you like it, Ricky? It’s custom Tiffany. I had it made special for Y/N myself.” Eren asks. 

You watch as Ricky furrows his brow, slightly clenching his jaw and nearly pink in the face, as he rolls his eyes in response – very clearly understanding the reference. 

“I don’t know where the fuck you think you get off, Eren. Need I remind you, that while I was at the top of my fucking career you were cleaning up a baby’s diapers.” 

You watch as Eren’s eye twitches, knuckles white at his side as he doesn’t respond. And it only gets more agitating since Ricky clearly gets off on the fact that Eren refuses to fight back, and takes it as an invitation to keep going. 

“Seriously, dude. You started at the fucking top of the food chain – your parents are literally Grisha and Carla Jaeger – and yet you’re slumming it with Lana and Sukuna. Lana’s quite literally the biggest bitch I’ve ever met in my life. Don’t pretend like you’re both not trying to get your five minutes of fame by talking about me. And don’t even get me started on how pathetic Sukuna is for what he said in that dumbass documentary the two of you made. Donating to sexual assault victims won’t fix a lack of talent.” 

“Where do you get-” 

“Y/N.” Eren states, silencing you all together. 

“That’s right, Eren. You better keep my sloppy seconds-” 

Ricky doesn’t get to finish the statement, because Eren’s punched him in the face. Not once, not twice, but three times to the point where he’s tackled him onto the floor, a bright red decorating his knuckles. 

“Y/N. What the fuck? Get him to stop!” 

You know that it’s petty. That maybe if you were a little bit of a better person, you actually would have asked Eren to stop. But Ricky James was quite literally the worst person you had ever met and deep down, there wasn’t even a single part of him that didn’t deserve what he was getting right now. 

You crouch down on your knees, Eren momentarily stopping to look at you, before you shake your head and look down at him. 

“I’m so sorry, Ricky. I don’t think I can do that right now.” 

Eren smiles, as he lands one more punch, before a very drunk Jean and Reiner are able to pull him off – Maki and Pieck at your sides as they rub into the softness of your arms. You shake your head, signaling to them that you were fine, as Eren looks over at you over the accumulating crowd of people, and gives you a gesture. You nod, as Eren extends his hand out to you, and the two of you walk to the other side of the room. You eye the blood on Eren’s hand, all Ricky’s you’re sure, as Eren stops at the table and starts filling the cups with the lemonade. 

“We need a drink.” Eren states. 

“That’s what got you pissed off, Eren? When he started talking bad on my name?” you mumble. 

“I love your name.” Eren defends. 

You smile. 

“Though, I always felt like it’s missing something.” Eren adds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“And what’s that, huh?” 

“My last name.” Eren responds. 

Eren watches as a blush creeps over your cheeks and try not to laugh when you mutter something that sounds an awful lot like fuck you under your breath as he passes you one of the glasses of lemonade. Which is right when Lana comes up and snatches the glass from his hand and slams it down on the table. 

“Are you a fucking idiot, Eren?” Lana seethes. 

“What?” Eren responds, giving her an annoyed shrug back as he takes the glass back and hands you one. 

“You promised, Eren.” Sukuna responds. 

“You two can get your panties out of a twist. I didn’t break any promises.” 

“Do you think I’m blind, Eren?” Lana asks. 

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans down, bringing his face closer to Lana’s. It’s the same thing that Colt does to you – on the rare occasions that he’s able to prove you wrong. 

“You made me promise that if Ricky said anything about Teddy or you, I wouldn’t say anything. And Sukuna made me promise that if Ricky said anything about him, I wouldn’t do anything, because it would upset you.” Eren states. 

That’s why he didn’t say anything. 

“Our princess over here didn’t force me to make any promises like that. So the second he called her sloppy seconds, I did what I had to do.” Eren responds. 

Lana’s eyes widen, as she turns her head to you. 

“What a dick. Are you okay?” Lana asks. 

“I’m fine. He said worse about you guys, I wanted to punch him myself.” 

Eren smiles, as he leans down to look at you. 

“Too bad. He’s getting escorted out on his ass now, so you lost your chance.” Eren responds, pointing towards the door. 

And surely enough, the security are taking him out with his hands secured behind his back – no thanks to the obscene screaming he’s doing – while Hyla looks maybe the most irritated you’ve ever seen before. She spares you one last glance, to which you and Eren respond with glimmering smiles, before she walks out. 

Lana gestures towards the bathrooms as Eren follows, presumably to wash his hands, leaving you and Sukuna by the table, nursing the little glasses of lemonade in your hands. And wordlessly, you extend your glass out to Sukuna – and thank your lucky stars that he understands – as he pulls the little flask from the pocket and pours it into your drink and then his. 

“Eren’s been waiting for that one.” Sukuna states. 

“I’m shocked you haven’t.” you respond. 

“Maybe before. But you know, with the kid, you have to be a good role model and all that. Plus, I hate when Lana lectures me because she gets really mean.” 

You snort. 

“I’d be scared of her too.” you respond. 

“Speaking of scared, how many drinks until he falls off?” Sukuna asks, pointing to the left. 

You follow his line of vision to find Yuuji standing on top of the bar, tie loosely hanging around his neck and pink in the face with Satoru, as he sings along to the music playing from the speakers. 

“Which one are you talking about? I think they’re both well past that point.” you respond. 

“Yuuji, obviously. I’m going to stop him before he ends up on a headline.” Sukuna responds. 

“You have fun with that. I’ll watch from over here.” you respond, as Sukuna walks away. 

When you scan the room for Ethan Cole, you find that he’s already looking at you. You give him a polite wave, positive that whatever Eren just did with Ricky James must have swayed him some type of way, as you lean back against the edge of the table. And the table dips slightly under you, nearly making you spill the glass of lemonade, when you find Scott Clarkson leaning against at your side, his beady eyes fixed on you. 

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you.” 

“I’m so glad you were finally able to learn my name.” you respond.  

Scott clicks his tongue in his cheek, before extending his hand out to shake it at you. You begrudgingly oblige, skin curling with disgust as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, and leans back. 

“I’ll admit, I had you pegged all wrong in the beginning. But I’m sure that you can understand, it can be so hard to trust new and upcoming talent like that when you run a big company.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” you deadpan. 

“I think we should let bygones be bygones. I even think that we could be useful to one another. If you really wanted full ownership of your albums back, I could get it for you. Just a few movies, here and there, and they’d be back in your hands.” 

You feel your throat dry. 

“What did you just say to me?” 

“I’m sure you know I am well acquainted with Danny and Sareen. I’m sure I could persuade them, after a little give and take.” 

You thank the heavens that the stylists had stacked each of your fingers with a perfect set of silver rings. You sure it made it hurt even more when you slapped him across the face. 

“You have some nerve, you asshole. Don’t even think about-” 

You feel a set of arms on your biceps, squeezing hard, as you turn your head to find Levi at your side. You shake your head, turning back to Scott, who no whas a group of people around him, inspecting the red mark you’ve left on his cheek. 

“Levi. Fucking, get off.” 

“This is not the time for this. You and Eren are leaving, you’ve had too much to drink.” Levi responds, pushing you out into the cold air outside the hall and near the taxi. 

Eren’s leaning against the car door and he quickly jumps up at the sound of your voice, meeting Levi at your side. 

“Did you hit him, Y/N? They’re saying that you hit him.” 

“I slapped him.” 

Eren pinches his mouth into a line. 

“Did he hit back?” Eren asks. 

“What? No. Levi started yanking me off of him before I could get another one in.” 

Eren passes Levi a thankful smile, before ducking your head into the taxi, and tuning back into your rambling. 

“He’s such a dick. He fucking had that coming, trying to offer me a career like I don’t know who he is and what he fucking does. Like really, even down to being an opportunist, does he really think I care about my album that was already stolen from me over all of my friends? Over you? I think he’s a psychopath and we didn’t even get to solidify the deal with Ethan Cole or-” 

“Okay, Y/N. Relax. It’s-” 

“We have to do something to get his attention. Something crazy. I have an idea but…you have to follow my lead, okay?” 

Eren’s slightly hesitant. Only because he can tell that you really are tipsy from the light pink tint in your cheeks and the way that you’re shaking your legs. But he hates to tell you no, especially when you’re staring at him so expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

And when you drag Eren into a sweaty tattoo parlor, Eren realizes that maybe you’re well past tipsy. 

“I technically picked what we did last time, Eren. So it’s your turn. Just make sure it’s something like…fucking crazy. Like iconic.” 

Eren has an idea. But he can’t say it. Because you can’t possibly get that tattooed. And he’s sure that it’s showing on his face, because now you’re giving him an excited smile, jumping up and down on your feet waiting for him to tell. 

“Oh my god. What is it? Tell me right now.” 

“Uh. The moon and the ocean.” Eren responds. 

You frown. 

“We already basically have that as a tattoo, Eren. With the fish? And I can tell that’s not what you were going to say.” you respond. 

Eren sighs. 

“Y/N. It’s too much.” 

“Nothing’s too much! Come on, it’s you and me that we’re talking about. We got fucking matching tattoos when we were like eighteen and released songs about quite literally fucking each other on the same day! We can get a crazy tattoo!” 

“You’re so crass when you’re drunk, Y/N.” 

“The word Levi used was homicidal.” you respond. 

Eren sighs, as he tells you his idea, and watches your face light up. And after the fact, Eren can’t help but feel like he’s on top of the world.

Because for a second time now – the two of you are running down the streets, bathed in the dim lamplight and laughing into the night. Matching tattoos of each other’s names on the inside of your lips, a confession on the tips of your tongues like you were two soulmates destined to be together.

That’s the moment you’re able to coin it. 

You’re head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger. Again. Maybe even worse, more desperately than the first time.

And as the perfect cherry on top, Ethan Cole sends you a message confirming the deal the following morning.

--

--

next part linked here

an: are you catching my hint for the songs in our next chapter.....which is an AWARDS SHOW CHAPTER ARE WE READY. and don't worry....scott clarkson and danny/sareen welcome to your tape...this next chapter is for you

(pls tell me someone gets the pussy joke that megumi made and that im not just horrendously chronically online)

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636

#seeingivywrites! #method acting #eren #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren fluff #eren angst #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger angst #eren yeager #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager fluff #aot #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot fluff #aot angst #snk #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk angst

[roseofdarknessblog]

Little miracle (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 2 674

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: Three years after the Rumbling, you and Levi finally get the chance to grow your little family.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Little miracle

Sitting on a little stack of wooden crates, you were watching as your husband gave out sweets to all the kids in the refugee camp. The happiness on their cute little faces made your heart melt over and over again. And even though you couldn't see Levi's face, it was more than obvious that he enjoyed doing this. After all, he always had a soft spot for kids, since the very first day when you got to know him back in the Underground.

„Not feeling up to anything?“ Yelena asked, when she walked past you, carrying a crate with a couple of toys in her hands. They were from a toy store, that was right next to your and Levi's tea shop back home. „I don't see you helping us at all today.“

„Yeah, sorry. I'm not feeling my best,“ you said to her, running a hand through your hair. „I just didn't want Levi to come alone.“

She rolled her eyes at you with a small smirk on her lips. „Always looking out for each other no matter what.“

„That's what married couples do,“ you reminded her with a chuckle, proudly showing off your wedding band. „No, look... I'm sorry I'm so useless today. I don't know what's wrong.“

You lied.

For a few days now, you knew what was wrong and what was making you feel sick every single day. Or rather who was making you feel like this – the baby, that was growing inside your womb. The baby only you and Falco knew about. You didn't tell him but when he randomly found you throwing up three days in a row, while he and Gabi were helping you out in the tea shop, he put two and two together.

It was truly a miracle, that you were able to keep your pregnancy hidden from Levi. Or maybe if he suspected something, he was waiting for you to tell him. Not that you were afraid to tell him, you just didn't know how to do it. It was something very special and you wanted Levi to remember such an important day in the best way possible.

„Are you sure everything is okay?“ Yelena asked, her big eyes observing you closely.

You nodded, putting on your best smile. „I'm okay, just didn't get much sleep last night.“

„Oh, the Captain kept you up?“ she teased you, looking over at Levi for a moment.

„Even if he did, it's none of your business,“ you tried brushing her off and got to your feet, adjusting your skirt. „I'll go help you, okay?“ Leaning down, you picked up one of the crates and followed her. When you walked past Levi, you flashed him a loving smile, reassuring him that everything was perfectly fine.

It was... until you found yourself behind one of the tents half an hour later, bent over and puking your guts out. The so-called morning sickness was bothering you more and more every day. On top of that, you felt extremely tired and dizzy almost constantly. Just yesterday, you almost fell over in the tea shop, when you got lightheaded while returning from the kitchen in the back. Fortunately, Levi didn't see anything. He was too busy talking to one of the customers.

Sighing, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to catch your breath once again. Only then you noticed two of the kids staring at you, one of them eating a lollipop he got from your husband. You gave them both the sweetest smile possible at that moment and walked away as if nothing happened. After you had some water you found Yelena with Onyankopon again, and joined them, taking care of everything important for the next hour or so.

„Hey, are you holding up okay?“ Levi asked as soon as you were done talking to two little girls, who stopped you to tell you how much they liked your skirt. „You didn't look too good this morning, I just didn't want to argue.“

„I'm fine, yeah. The weather is really nice today, isn't it?“ you asked with a smile, trying to hide the once again growing nausea. „It's good that we came here. The kids looked happy and that's what matters the most.“

The day was really nice, the sun was shining and summer was just around the corner. Even if summer wasn't your favorite season, you loved the warm weather since it always helped Levi with his chronic pain. Meanwhile, the cold usually made him feel much worse, mainly when it came to his left knee.

„It was nice but I can't wait to be back home,“ he sighed quietly. „Are we going to open the tea shop for at least a couple of hours?“

„I don't think anything catastrophic is going to happen, if we stay closed today,“ you said and came closer, reaching for one of his hands. Since nobody was really around, Levi didn't hesitate – he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled you closer to him, making you sit on his lap. „We'll have a nice romantic evening. No work, only love.“

He smirked, resting his back a little better in his wheelchair. Three years after the Rumbling and he still needed to use it daily. When he felt good enough to do it, he was able to walk short distances. Mainly around the tea shop. But for the most time, he wasn't able to rely on his injured knee – not even after multiple surgeries or rounds of physical therapy.

But as years passed by, Levi's outlook on his life started to change. From hating the way his body changed, to slowly accepting the new life he and you got the chance to live. It took a lot of time, energy, and tears, but after three years, both of you were finally feeling... good, content, and satisfied. Everything was like it was supposed to be. As painful as it was, the lives of your fallen friends brought you a safe and bright future.

„What's going on with you?“ Levi asked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You shrugged and brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. „What do you mean? I'm fine.“

„You're not.“

With a smirk, you kissed his forehead. Keeping anything from him wasn't even a little bit easy. And maybe it was truly unnecessary. Making a big fuss of this whole thing. This time of your life was supposed to be the most beautiful, not full of stress about every little thing. You wanted to truly enjoy this time – something you never thought you would be able to experience.

Having kids was off the table while you and Levi were in the Survey Corps. Years back, you had a pregnancy scare, but it all turned out well, fortunately. Since then, the two of you didn't seriously talk about having children. Not really even after the Rumbling. With Levi's health issues and all the major changes in your life, there was simply no energy left to think about starting a family.

Despite that, you agreed that you're not going to try to prevent a pregnancy. If it happened, you would simply have a child together. However, months and then years went by without you getting pregnant. Not even once did you suspect anything. So when this little miracle happened, the two of you weren't really trying for a baby. But it looked like fate knew what your marriage was missing.

„Are you going to tell me or should I ask?“ he raised his brows, giving you probably the last chance to say what was on your mind.

„I guess you already know,“ you sighed, resting your head on top of his. The sun was brightly shining down on the refugee camp all around you, the light wind making the hot air a little bit more bearable. „Don't you?“

„I have my suspicions, yes,“ he nodded, gently caressing your side. You were feeling more and more nervous as each second passed, suddenly not being sure how he was going to react. „Your period always makes you pretty damn sick for the first two or three days, each and every month. And it's been around seven weeks since I last saw you in such a state,“ he said in a calm tone, not wanting to make you even more anxious about the whole situation.

„I wanted to tell you, just didn't know how. It's such an important moment in our lives and I wanted to make it special for you.“

„So I'm right? We're expecting a baby?“ he asked directly, not giving you another chance to change the topic of the conversation. „I'm going to be a father?“

„If everything goes well...“ you shrugged, giving him a hopeful smile. „Then yes, you're going to be a father in a couple of months.“ It was hard to tell what Levi was thinking or feeling at that very moment. His expression was almost impossible to read. His good eye was fixed on your face, his lips pressed into a thin line. „I'm not sure how it happened after so much time. To be honest, I stopped thinking that we would ever have kids. After more than three years...“ You shook your head, a smile making its way onto your lips.

„Guess it simply wasn't the right time until now. And our bodies knew it,“ Levi said, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. „How long did you know?“

You opened your mouth to speak, but suddenly Onyankopon showed up, calling on the two of you. He seemed a little shocked at first when he saw you sitting on Levi's lap, but he quickly managed a smile. It was apparently time to say goodbye to the people in the camp and return home. This wasn't your first time doing something like this, but leaving never got easier. You wanted to help these people much more, mainly to all the kids running around.

In a way, they reminded you of all the kids from the Underground back on Paradis. Since you grew up there as well, you sometimes wondered what happened to that place and to all the people living there. Did they finally have a better life? After the Walls were torn down, when the Titans inside them started moving at the beginning of the Rumbling, you were sure many things changed.

While Armin and the others went back there for peace talks with Queen Historia, you and Levi stayed behind. It was... better, in a way. Leaving all the political work to the younger generation. Maybe it sounded selfish to some, but you simply had no need to get involved with the new military regime on Paradis. Their problems were no longer yours.

Not after everything that happened during and after the Rumbling.

Not after being called traitors just because you decided to kill Eren and stop the madness he unleashed upon the world.

It was already late evening when you came back home. After dinner with Onyankopon and Yelena, you finally closed the door of your little ground-floor apartment, sighing exhaustedly.

„Finally...“ you said and sat down on the little stool by the door. Being on your feet throughout most parts of the day made you as tired as ODM gear training used to be back in the day. And you had only your pregnancy to blame. „I'm so tired.“

„It was a long day,“ Levi said and wheeled himself a bit closer to take your hands in his. „And we still have an important talk to finish.“

You nodded, interlocking your fingers. Being so tired suddenly left no room for feelings of anxiety or nervousness. You knew this moment was coming, it was inevitable to have this talk about your future. And the sooner it happened the better. You kept stealing glances at him during dinner, but his expression didn't show anything. Your friends had no way of knowing something was going on.

„Are you mad that I didn't tell you earlier?“ you asked Levi, looking at him in the dim light of the little entryway. The scars on his face healed more than nicely throughout the years. Now they were barely visible. Or they maybe seemed like that because Levi's face changed in different ways as well – slowly, but the signature dark circles under his eyes started disappearing since he was sleeping much more and better than ever before. Sometimes when you looked at him, he almost seemed younger than ever.

Levi shook his head, his thumb running over your wedding band. „I have no right to be mad. It's our kid, but it's your body.“

„It is but... you know...“ Finding the right words was suddenly way too hard. Your whole body was suddenly overflowing with so many different emotions. „These past three years... I knew you wanted a baby. And I wanted to give you one... at least one. But you know that it simply wasn't happening, I wasn't getting pregnant even if we never did anything to prevent it and...“

„Hey, hey, hey! Shhh, don't panic. Take a deep breath,“ he encouraged you, his thumbs slowly rubbing your knuckles. Focusing on the soft expression on his face, you took a couple of deep breaths to calm down a little. „I hoped we would one day have a child together. Not really when we were still in the Survey Corps, but after we settled down here. But that doesn't mean I wasn't happy with just you by my side.“ Levi talked slowly to make sure you were able to follow his thoughts.

„We're so not ready for this, Levi. But I don't think we'll ever be.“ You laughed nervously and leaned closer to plant a soft kiss on his lips. „You'll be the most amazing dad ever. I'm more than sure,“ you whispered into his lips, kissing him once more.

„Guess I'll learn,“ he smirked, placing one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you close. „And you will too. We'll manage.“

„It probably won't be harder than killing Titans.“

Hearing him chuckle was a very nice end to this day. You thought about a moment like this many times before – about telling Levi that your little family will soon have a new addition. And now it was reality. You were talking about a baby that was already growing inside you.

„Aren't we too old for this?“ Levi suddenly asked, kissing your forehead. His lips were still very slightly curled upwards.

„Probably not if we managed to actually make a baby,“ you giggled and slowly got up, standing in front of Levi. His right hand, which was missing two fingers, gently rested on your lower abdomen.

Your body didn't look any different yet, it was still way too early. And maybe because of that your pregnancy didn't seem real to you. Perhaps later, after your belly will grow a little or after you will feel the baby move for the first time. But for now, you still felt like your old self, just more tired and nauseous.

„Falco knows, right?“ Levi asked suddenly, his thumb very gently stroking your stomach, while he was looking up at you. „Either that or he did something and doesn't want me to find out.“

„He knows, but not from me. I didn't tell him, he figured it out himself after seeing me throw up so many times when they were last here.“ Levi nodded, his face still showing signs of amusement. „But he's the only one and he swore not to tell Gabi.“

„Good. I don't think anybody needs to know for now.“ You nodded, putting your hand over Levi's, which was still gently resting on your stomach.

It was more than obvious that he needed this baby. He needed to be a father. After so many horrific events that took place in his and your life, you both needed something so pure and innocent.

Something so precious.

A true miracle.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #aot x you #aot x reader #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Prologue

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 2,225

A/N: Welcome to the start of The Guest House! This little bitty came to me while I was staying at a lake house and relaxing, so really excited to dive in.

Chapters will be posted weekly on Wednesdays.

If you would like to be tagged in the series, just leave a comment or shoot me a message and I'll get you added.

Enjoy!

You dig your nails into your fingertips as they sit in your lap underneath the table. Your heart was finally leveling off as your review was coming to an end. So far your marks had been glowing; your metrics were up, your peer reviews were stellar, all that was left was to hear if they would be promoting you.

You’ve been working for that next step for a year and a half now. After most of your team quit, you took the opportunity to show your bosses that you could run the department with a can-do attitude and hard work. You’ve brought up a promotion a few times at your check-ins with your boss, and she assured you it would be a topic of conversation at your next review, which would be ending in the next few minutes. 

With a polite smile, you look across the table at your direct manager and her boss.

“Any questions?” Your boss asks plainly, and your brow furrows as you look between them. If you didn’t know any better, it sounded like they were wrapping up the meeting.

Your lips fall apart and your heart jumps into your throat as you realize what’s about to happen.

“Uh,” you start as you squeeze your fists together. “I was hoping to discuss my possible promotion.” You loosen your smile as you try to keep your eye contact divided between both of them.  

The two share a small look. 

You’re not getting promoted. Is what that looks says. 

Your boss’ boss clears his throat as he readjusts in his seat. 

“After reviewing your performance, we do not feel a promotion is appropriate at this time.” He says with a tinge of forced sorrow. 

Your stomach plummets as your jaw clenches. 

How could they not be promoting you? You’ve been working the job of at least three people for over a year now without complaint. You’ve spent countless days staying late and making sure projects didn’t fall wayside while the company took their sweet ass time looking for replacements for your team.To their own admission, your metrics were good, so why the hell wasn’t your hard work being recognized?

“I don’t understand.” You swallow to keep your voice from shaking. You never pushed back on your bosses. Ever. But you thought today was the day you were finally going to be rewarded for everything you’ve done for them. 

“You just said that my metrics were up and I was performing above expectations. What is hindering him from getting a promotion then?” 

The two look at each other again and you can feel yourself beginning to shake as they bide their time for an excuse. 

“Y/N, you have performed well this past year for the most part, but there were concerns with your performance in January.” Your boss folds her tanned hands on the faux wood tabletop as she speaks up. “You let things fall through the cracks and were distant from your work. We feel that is not reflective of someone who should hold a Senior Management position.” She offers a soft smile and a shitty excuse. 

It takes your brain a moment to catch up with what they were talking about; January. Two months ago. Your aunt passed away suddenly from a heart attack as she was making dinner. You can still hear your mother’s cries over the phone as she called to tell you the news that her sister was dead. And at only 52. 

You were only able to take one day off from work for her funeral, as you were in the middle of a project launch and it was all hands on deck. When you returned, yeah, you were “distant.” You were mourning the loss of a woman you loved dearly while trying to help your mother and cousins navigate their grief as well. Your aunt’s passing also made you scared for your own mother, who is a few years older, and some night’s you couldn’t sleep as you thought about life without your best friend. It took you weeks to shake free from the heartbreak and anxiety that had engulfed you, but you came back strong and started excelling once more. 

And there your bosses sat, in the all-glass meeting room of the shared workspace your company rented out because they were too cheap to get a full-blown office, throwing your aunt’s death in your face and using it as the excuse as to why they would not be promoting you after more than eighteen months of slaving away for them with barely a thank you. 

You laugh through your nose and shake your head as you swallow hard.

“We’re happy to talk more about this in a few months at your next check-in.” Your boss jumps in, and you bite down on your lip. “We know you’re committed to this company and role, and we want to make sure we help you get to the next level.” She smiles at you like she actually believes the bullshit she’s spouting. 

You take a deep breath and genuinely smile back. You always prided yourself on keeping a cool head, especially at work. But a line had crossed, and even for you, enough was now enough. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Your boss ticks her head at your words. “Because I quit.” You stand up and smile down at the two asshats you gave everything for, and now realize, you would never get anything in return from them. 

Both of their mouths fall open as they share a shocked look between them.

“Y/N, let’s not do anything rash.” Your boss’ boss stands as well, holding his hands up. “There’s no need to jump to something like this. I’m sure there’s something we can work out” 

You push your chair in, your smile not wavering.

“I feel that this review is not reflective of a company I want to work for anymore.” You throw their words back to them. “I’ll have no issue finding a new role that values my hard work and dedication, and won’t use a family member’s death as a reason to squirrel out of a rightful promotion.”

“Best of luck filling my role.” You turn on your heel and hurry down the hallway to your shared office. A few coworkers glance up at your haste entrance, but you ignore them as you grab your purse and start grabbing the few personal effects that would fit on your tiny, shared desktop; just a single, unframed picture of you, your parents, and your brother, a few fidget toys, and your favorite pens. The rest belonged to the company, just like you had. 

Without a word, you fling your purse onto your shoulder and with your head held high, carry yourself out of the office without a single glance back. As you step onto the elevator, you smirk as you watch through the all-glass walls as your bosses shout at one another before the doors close.

“You what?” Your mother gasps through the phone at your news. You knew your parents weren’t going to take this well, and you were prepared for it.

“I quit.” You repeat, even though you know she heard you the first time.

“Y/N, what on God’s green earth would make you quit without another job lined up?” She huffs. 

You think about your Aunt Rose, how your bosses used your grief as an excuse not to give you a well-earned promotion. She was always free spirited, having career-jumped her whole life. She started as a bartender, then worked as a sous chef for a catering company before she decided she wanted to be a radio DJ. Years before she died, she had gotten her real estate license and was working as an agent right up until she passed. You had always been the opposite, very much a mirror of your mother. You went to a good college and got a business degree. You had worked for a few companies over the years, but you always stayed in the same field, working your way up the ladder. You never wanted to take a risk with your career, you had worked too hard. But working hard got you nothing but late nights and a bullshit yearly review. 

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. And you can barely recall the last time you got together with your friends, let alone a date. You had married your job and it had been a toxic and loveless relationship. 

It was time to start fresh and take some time for yourself. Which is exactly why you had seventeen tabs of house rentals open on your laptop screen as you half-listen to your mother as she continues to admonish your rash decision. 

“It’s going to be good for me, mom.” You cut her off once you’ve finally had enough of her harping. You loved the woman to death, but my god once you wind her up, she doesn’t stop. 

“I have enough savings to comfortably get me through six months without a job. I’m going to take a few weeks off to reset, then I’ll hit the ground running with the job search.” You cross your legs as you languidly swipe through rental photos. 

After a few more minutes, you finally hang up the phone and start seriously considering your options. 

You wanted to get away upstate, not so far away that you couldn’t get back for anything important, but far enough to feel like the city wasn’t in your rearview mirror. You figured a month would be the perfect time. Four weeks of a quiet town to relax and rediscover your love of reading and writing. It’s been ages since you actually sat down and read a good book. You were never good at art, but maybe you’d even find a studio to do some painting or finally give pottery a try. For the first time in your life, your time would be your own to sleep in and do whatever you wanted with your days. 

As you click through listings, you notice one that is significantly cheaper than the rest. Curiously, you click the link and a gray-sided cabin with a red tin-looking roof brightens up in front of you.

NEW LISTING! Private Guest House, Hot tub included.

One bedroom guest house available for rent. Relax in the peacefulness of upstate while being a short driving distance to town. The guest house has a full bathroom, complete with tub. There is also a hot tub on the patio that is for guest enjoyment. 10 minutes from downtown with plenty of bars and shops to keep you busy. The owner lives on the main property, but will keep to themself unless you need anything. Perfect for anyone looking to getaway! 

As you click through the photos, you’re greeted with a warm, wooden interior, a wood burning stove, a fairly updated kitchen, and a queen bed with an adjacent master bath. 

The cabin feels a little too good to be true for the price, and you click “Contact Owner” at the bottom of the page.

“Hello,” You start your chat. “I’m interested in potentially renting your guest cabin for four weeks. The place looks lovely but I wanted to ask if there are any issues I should be aware of since the price is so much more reasonable than other listings on this site.” 

You were hoping there were no gimmicks, you’ve heard horror stories before, and with no reviews, you wanted to do your due diligence. 

After you send the chat, you step away to make a quick dinner, chicken and ramen, comfy and warm, before you settle back onto the couch to watch your favorite reality show. You’re about to press play when you notice a response in your inbox. 

“Hi there. Totally understand your concern. I just put the listing up today and am offering a discounted rate for the first few renters to help get traffic to our rental and start getting reviews. Let me know if you have any questions.” You shrug at the perfectly reasonable response and you click on the circular picture of the brunette next to the message, opening the owner’s profile.

LISA BRAEDEN (Host)

0 Reviews | 1 Month Renting

Lisa’s confirmed information

Identity ✓

Email address ✓

Phone number✓

Proud wife and owner of a unique property. I am a certified yoga instructor and have been teaching and practicing for over 15 years. I love a good glass of wine, a well-cooked meal, and traveling to new places. 

You stare at the picture of the smiling, long-haired, tanned brunette. She’s absolutely beautiful. Probably a few years older than you and seems down to earth in a regular tshirt. 

Honestly, considering you were out of a job, the discounted price would really come in handy. Then you wouldn’t feel so guilty taking a full month off before you started your job hunt. 

You click back to the rental’s profile and put in your dates. You take a deep breath before clicking RESERVE and putting in your payment details.  Your rental has been confirmed. The message pops up. With a thousand-watt smile, you shut your laptop and settle into your couch. In just a few days, you would be on your way to a new beginning.  

Keep Reading

A/N: Fun fact, the first half of this was inspired by true events. Sadly, I didn't quit on the spot, but I did shortly after with a 10x better job.

And know we didn't get to see Dean yet, but I promise he will be in the next chapter!

Anywho, stealing this from the lovely @zepskies

NEXT TIME:

“I’m calling the cops!” She shouts, her phone in hand, music blaring from the speaker as her fingers are ready to press the three numbers as she stares at him with fear in her Y/C/E eyes.

“Take it easy,” Dean holds his hands up, and the woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack as she notices the gun in his right hand. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tucks it away into his waistband and holds his empty hands out to her, wanting her to know he’s not a threat.

“First off,” Dean holds up a finger at her. “If anyone should be calling the cops, it’s me.” He points back to himself. “Secondly, what are you doing in my house?” 

“Your house?” Her voice drips with confusion as her brow furrows.

“Yes my house.” He echoes, emphasizing his ownership. She continues to frown.  

“Well if it’s your house, you would know I’m renting your guest house for the next four weeks.” She crosses her arms defiantly, confusion and fear gone as she challenges him. 

“What are you talking about?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to be confused. He’s never rented the guest house out, nor would he ever. 

Tag List

Forever 

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213

TGH

@suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @spnbaby-67 @jackles010378 @itsdesiree86 @becca-rebel38

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fic #the guest house

[nyoomiin]

roommates: part four.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

Your roommate had changed.

It was a change so minute that you had barely noticed, yet it was there. It was in the way he looked at you, you think. In the way he no longer avoided your eye, and in the way he’d respond to your smile. Well, honestly, he always had that little frown on his face, and his words were always sharp, but still, it was a start.

This was… certainly an interesting development.

See, when you had posted that commission in search of someone who'd loan you some aid, you did not expect that person to be the Traveller. As in the guy who’s taken Teyvat by storm, solving crisis over crisis from nation to nation. As in the guy who's got a title in just about every nation he's visited. That guy.

“Thank you for accepting my commission!” you tell him brightly, because what else were you supposed to say? At the very least, you were sure the job would be well done. “I'll make sure the compensation is worth your while.”

Paimon brightens immediately. “What do you need us for?”

You hand the Traveller the list of fabrics and other materials you need. “Could you get me everything on the list? These aren't the materials I usually buy, so I have no idea which ones are of good quality. Or even how or where to get them.”

“All these are… Inazuman?” Paimon says, curious. “What do you need them for?”

You nod, grinning. “My roommate's from Inazuma — well, he looks like he does… I wanted to make a traditional set of Inazuman clothes for him.”

It would match the shawl you had made for him perfectly. He'd look angelic, you muse, dressed in white and blue.

You'd pay to see the sight, really. You hadn't spent all that time designing and researching and sewing just to see his pretty face be wasted on those boring ass clothes he had on. Seriously, was that the only set of clothes he had or what?

“That's so sweet!” she gushes.

The Traveller pockets the list. “I'll be back by the end of today.”

“Damn, that's really quick. Thank you!”

You have to tell Alhaitham about this.

“He was so pretty, I swear, why aren’t isn't there anyone talking about how insanely gorgeous the Traveller is?” 

Both his hair and eyes were of shimmering gold, not to mention his lean build and rosy skin… You hadn't registered it then, with the legendary Traveller in front of your very eyes, but thinking back on the encounter… damn. You want to make something for him too. Or maybe a little cape and dress for Paimon?

Alhaitham sighs. “Please, try not to get too far ahead of yourself.”

“Easy for you to say. Hmph.” You cross your arms in faux anger, turning your nose up at him. “I can't believe you didn't tell me the Traveller looked like that.”

“You seem quite taken with the Traveller. Does this indicate that you have finally gotten over your infatuation with your roommate?”

You squawk, gasping in indignation and utter betrayal. “Never! Do you think so little of me?”

… He just stares.

“And I don't have a crush on him,” you finish, protesting weakly. “He just seems interesting.”

Even you find it hard to believe yourself.

(He's walking down the streets when a particular store catches his eye.

Little trinkets are laid out on the tables, from keychains to bracelets and the like — but it's the wood carvings that he narrows in on. They're tiny, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and no heavier than a small stone. He picks up the carving of a bunny, inspecting it.

You had always liked bunnies, he remembers. Especially the ones white as snow, and the ones black as night. He wonders if you like them still.

“Would you like that one? It's a thousand and three hundred mora,” the shopkeeper says. “Very cheap for a handmade carving.”

He pauses. Just what was he doing? 

Nothing good would come out of being involved with you yet again, that he knew. No, nothing good ever came out of associating with mortals in general — and that had been a harsh lesson learnt. 

… But ‘Scaramouche’ was no more, and gone was everything that had happened with him too. He was, by right, no one at all.

Him interacting with you — a human who had never known ‘Scaramouche’, a stranger of a person he had simply come to share an apartment with — surely that was alright?

Oh how far has he fallen, to be bargaining with himself like this. He tosses a bag full of mora onto the counter.

“Keep the change.”)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129

#—stellaronhvnters. #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #i swear they become friends next chapter #NGL THIS IS PROGRESSING SLOWER THAN I THOUGHT CUZ THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDS A CHAPTER AGO 👹👹👹😭😭😭

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (7)

ATEEZ ot8 X Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N Double update for the day because I didn't get to it yesterday. Chapter 8 will be posted later today (for me). I didn't get to writing a chapter and it bothers me when I don't have one ready on time. I like to have a few chapters written for just in case.

It was rather quick that your parents seemed to have hired the boys. They didn’t really question much of where they came from or why they were looking for work in your establishment. The only person they did question was you. 

Why didn’t you say anything? How did you meet them? How long have you known them? Do they have someone waiting for them at home? That was from your mother. 

You worked with Soenghwa for the most part. Yeosang was too busy in the backroom going over inventory and the money the hotel makes during the day. He also kept tabs of the guests list and their payments. Seonghwa worked at the bar in the saloon, occasionally making food the guests ordered. However with it being Friday, the bar was packed with people laughing and de-stressing from the week. 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Seonghwa’s fingers grazed your hand as you handed him some empty glasses that needed to be washed. 

“You're welcome, Seonghwa.” You smiled. “Table three wants more whiskey.”

“Coming right up.” His dazzling grin made you blush, if only for the fact that he was a good looking man. He would make any woman flustered. 

“You've been such a great help, boy!” Your father patted him on the back. “Weekends are usually packed with travelers or the townsfolk who claim we have the best drinks. You're really making us stand out!”

“You got yourself one hell of a looker!” A man at the bar praised Seonghwa. “All the women would be lining up to take a glimpse at your new hire, (F/N)!”

“Thank you.” Seonghwa bashfully told him. 

The room went quiet for just a moment, some of the patrons had stopped talking to look towards the entrance of the bar. Yunho and Jongho both walked in, casually making their way over to the seats open at the bar. 

“Officers.” The man who was complimenting Seonghwa greeted, tipping his glass. 

The two men greeted the other back, moving to look over the available drinks. It was the first time they had ever gone down to the bar to sit and have a drink. You would assume it was because it was Seonghwa’s first day working there. Maybe they felt a bit more at ease with someone they knew. 

“Say, do you guys know how long you're going to be here?” The man continued. “All the people are wondering why officers from the big city are snooping in our area.”

You paused your washing of cups, but quickly went back so as to not seem like you were eavesdropping. However, looking around the bar it seemed you weren’t the only one who was interested in the conversation. 

Jongho and Yunho took a moment to look at each other before moving to take the glasses that Seonghwa had put in front of them. You realized that they didn’t even vocalize their preference of alcohol but no one else did. Seonghwa probably didn’t even realize he had given them something to drink subconsciously. 

“There have been sightings of outlaws nearby.” You took a glance at Seonghwa. “We've been sent to investigate.”

Yunho answered the man. “With that being said, should you come across any wanted man. Please be sure to tell us. We have orders from the higher ups to catch them ourselves.” He turned to the rest of the bar, calling out to those who were watching him. 

“What if we want the reward!?” Someone slurred from the crowd. 

“You can have a try but just know you will be considered a criminal as well for obstructing the law.” Jongho shrugged, looking over the area.

No one dared to make another statement after that. However there was a lot of talk about the outlaws. People would whisper about how they needed to buy more ammunition for their weapons just in case these outlaws were to come into town. How they needed to keep their wives and daughters from going out so late in the night to prevent something terrible. 

As the night progressed, the bar slowly grew to be less packed. However you would conclude that it was rather late at night when the bar dwindled down to cleaning up. The men were sure worried about their wives and daughters but they didn’t seem to mind if they left drunk at 3 in the morning. You would work around the two men who had passed out on their tables, knowing that your father would be the one to deal with them in the end. 

Yeosang had come in earlier in the night to tell Seonghwa that he was leaving. You wanted to question where it was they were staying but you knew better. Curiosity kills the cat, you know the saying. In your case, you knew it would most definitely kill you. 

The only people left in the bar, aside from the two men passed out drunk, were Seonghwa, Jongho, Yunho and you. Your father had gone to take the empty bottles out back, leaving you alone with the three men. 

“You keep staring at the piano.” You told Seonghwa as you placed the last of the glasses where they went. “Do you play?”

“Not since I was a teen. It's been a while.” The man told you.

You moved things to the side, looking over at Seonghwa for a moment. “Could you play something?” You asked him, giving him a small smile. “I'd like to hear.”

You heard a snort come from Yunho and when you glanced at the two officers, you could see the large grins they were sporting. They looked at Seonghwa expectantly, just the tad bit tipsy from nursing their drinks for so long. 

“Sure.” Seonghwa moved around the bar, making his way to the upright piano.

You and the boys moved to stand behind the man, watching as he seemed to look over the keys for a moment before touching the instrument. You had been so used to listening to your grandfather play such uptempo songs that it felt like something had been lifted off your shoulders the moment Seonghwa started playing. 

It was some classical song, one that didn’t fit the theme of the bar. It soothed others to sleep and brought a light headed feeling. It made you smile, taking a seat to listen more carefully to the man playing. You felt the song wasn’t long enough when Seonghwa played the last of the notes. 

“It's been a while since I've heard you play.” Yunho told his friend.

“It's been a while since we've heard any kind of music.” Jongho explained, taking the last sip of the beer he was holding. 

“Wish the others were here.” Seonghwa smiled sadly.

It had been a while since you had seen the others all together, but it seemed to you like they were starting to let their guards down. At least, enough to relax and enjoy where they are. Yunho and Jongho didn’t seem to be as stiff as when they came in. The example of them coming down to the bar for the first time came to mind. While Yeosang and Seonghwa were already the calm two of the group, they too looked like they weren’t struggling as much as when you met them a week ago. 

“Do you all enjoy music?” You asked, scooting in closer to the piano.

“It’s what brought us together.” Soenghwa answered. “Captain was the one who started everything.”

“We weren’t always a group of criminals.” Seonghwa sighed, fingers drifting over the keys.

Your eyes drifted over the three, watching as Yunho and Jongho seemed to be laughing to themselves, the alcohol getting to them. Well to Yunho because it seemed as though Jongho had a great handle on himself. If you didn’t know about their occupation you would assume they were like all the other men your age who came and went through the hotel. 

They looked like they were stress free as though they weren’t going around causing trouble for a lot of people. You didn’t know their stories, but hearing from Seonghwa that they weren’t who everyone claimed to be, you wanted to know all about them. 

“I couldn’t imagine.” You calmly told him.

“Us not being criminals?” Yunho called out.

“Being criminals. None of you look like you want to be.” You confessed.

 “Because we aren’t. Not when we help the less fortunate.” Jongho crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair.

Your mind began to wander around his words. You remembered the story about the robbery that took place in the town over with Harthorne. Everyone knew he wasn’t the kindest of people and was really stingy with his money. He hoarded it, not daring to spend more than he needed to. Everyone knew he was a spoiled man who didn’t lift a finger to help those who needed it. 

You figured it was them who had taken the money from Harthorne. The men at the bar didn’t tell you more about what the gang did with the money but if they claim to not be criminals you wouldn’t be off put to know where it must have gone. There was a story about a man who knew how to use a bow and arrow. He would take from the rich and give to the poor. You wondered if they had read it as well.

“You take from the rich-”

“And give to the poor.” Seonghwa ended.

“That changes things, doesn’t it?” You grinned.

“You scared?” Seonghwa teased.

He gave you a grin, which made you flush again. Yunho had leaned closer to you while Jongho waited for you to speak. There was a time when you would glare back at men who made you so flustered. You would often retort with something stupid that would cause them offense for how unladylike you spoke. However you weren’t there to make them like you. They weren’t people you needed to impress.

“Of the Park Seonghwa?” You chuckled. “Not anymore. Not after that beautiful display you just put on.”

“You should hear Yeosang play the violin. He is a master.” Seonghwa praised his friend.

They cared deeply for each other, that much was noticeable. Maybe looking at them from afar they did look like hoodlums who would shiv you because you looked at them wrong. Or in most of their cases would seduce you into their beds and leave you the next day. 

But within themselves they held each other in high regards. You saw it in the way they spoke about their captain. How they cared about each other when two of them were injured. You knew they were all they had, with being in a gang. Not many people would open their arms for them. They were a family. And it brought a smile to your face to know they weren’t the criminals people claimed they were. 

You smiled brightly. “I’ll hold him to that.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @loveforred , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a ,

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez san #ateez x reader #atiny #choi san #hongjoong #jongho #ateez yunho #atz #yeosang #wooyoung #seonghwa x reader #ateez mingi #mingi #kpop fanfic #fandom #outlaw #cowboy au

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have the fourth part to our enemies to lovers rec list! You can also find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists and would like us to continue making them, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word! Happy reading.

1) Say My Name And Everything Just Stops | Explicit | 5,089 words

Harry and Louis are enemies and their friends leave them behind on a camping trip to sort out their differences. In a short amount of time, they do.

2) It’s Hard To Fight Naked | Explicit | 11,189 words

Prompt 6: Louis and Harry are roommates, but they cannot stand each other. When Harry heard Louis moan his name while Louis was riding a dildo in Harry’s room (Louis thought he was alone at home), Harry couldn’t stop himself and so he ended up fucking Louis against the mattress. Happy ending!

3) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. Three: They do not get along. So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

4) Uncomfortable Truths | Explicit | 18,125 words

Louis (a sophisticated asshole with a god complex, according to Zayn) is confident, bored out of his mind and in a desperate need of a challenge. Harry moves back to the city, ready to provide him one. Things go sideways. Obviously.

5) Angel Of Small Death And The Murder Scene | Explicit | 20,634 words

Ever since Louis read about the new up and coming Detective in town, he had immediately disliked the man, despite never having met him. So, naturally, it can only be the worst thing that could have happened to Louis when he gets stuck with Detective Styles trying to solve a murder during his supposed to be relaxing vacation over the seas.

6) Manners And Misjudgements | Explicit | 21,178 words

“Everyone you mention the Duke to raves about him, just like you are defending him now. But no one looks behind the façade he so ably maintains to deceive you all.” Liam sighs deeply. “You sound like a crazy man right now, Louis.” “I will prove to you who the Duke really is, just wait.”

7) Help Me, Help You Find Love | Explicit | 23,789 words

The one where they all attend a university for supernaturals and Werewolf Frat president and resident heartthrob Harry approaches on campus matchmaker Louis to help him find love.

8) Strong Enough To Get Us Wrong | Explicit | 24,289 words

Omega Louis have always considered the soulmate etching on his left thigh to be a curse. It takes a world tour, the bustling city of Tokyo, a hike to see Mt. Fuji, some hidden feelings, sea urchin sushi and the alpha he hates most in the world to change him.

9) Like It’s A Game | Explicit | 32,223 words | Sequel

There is little Harry hates more than truth or dare. And Louis.

10) Spoonful Of Sugar | Explicit | 42,900 words

Note: We'd recommend reading the prequel to this fic first.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

11) From Dust To Lust | Explicit | 45,437 words

From the moment Louis set eyes on the gorgeous stranger across the airport terminal, he knew the guy was trouble, which was the last thing he wanted. He wouldn’t have thought spending two days cooped up in a car travelling from the Australian Outback to the East Coast would change his mind. It’s funny how things work out.

12) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

13) Hold Me How the Deep Night Has | Explicit | 48,018 words

Louis Tomlinson needs a change. Stuck in a cycle of going to the job he hates, spending time with his friends, and avoiding the one man he hates most in this world, Louis' in desperate need of something new. So when he discovers an abandoned notebook on the way to work, the decision is easy to take it for himself and begin a journal amidst the empty pages. What can't be expected are the words that appear overnight directly beside his own, written on the same day 400 years in the past. What are the consequences of a magical connection between two men of different centuries? And who, among it all, is the mysterious E who only exists on the other side of Louis' journal?

14) Falling Without Caution | Explicit | 50,350 words

Louis Tomlinson, a wanted criminal, was captured by the FBI after years of chasing. Instead of being locked up in a high-security prison, he was offered a deal. What was supposed to be the end of a decade long chase turned into a morally grey circumstance for Agent Styles.

15) A Place With Skeletons | Explicit | 50,765 words

“I would choose anyone other than you,” Louis says, picking up his train of thought again. He feels a lot more cornered and defensive when they’re in Harry’s house, for some reason. It doesn’t really make sense, considering that this time, Louis was the one who couldn’t hack it any longer. He broke first. There’s something about being in Harry’s space, though, the green and earthy feeling of it. It should feel like open space with all the plants, but Louis has never felt more claustrophobic than he does when he’s here. Harry’s chest moves against his back, a sharp intake of air. Before he can open his mouth to defend himself, Louis keeps going, “If I had a choice in any of this, I would have been saved by that elderly security guard over you. I wouldn’t mind having to have the occasional cuddle with her.”

16) We Are But Dust and Shadows | Explicit | 51,468 words

Louis is part of a well respected Shadowhunter family, and Harry is the Mundane turned Shadowhunter who just can’t seem to get it right.

17) Lunar Waltz | Explicit | 56,795 words

Louis has to replace his (missing) twin brother and marry one of the most dangerous alphas of the kingdom.

18) The Luna of Which Pack? | Mature | 72,696 words

When Harry's wolves accidentally kidnap the intended Luna of Simon Cowell's pack, he must decide what to do with the irritating omega that does not want to return home. With the elders disagreeing with the new ‘naive’ pack alpha Styles, a war erupts due to his opposed decisions. And Louis finds himself right in the middle of it.

19) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100,707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them. Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one. Until two terrible truths are revealed. One, he's adopted. Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers. Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.

20) Where I Burn To Be | Explicit | 143,346 words

There were very few people who managed to get under Louis’ skin as effortlessly as Harry had, and even fewer who had done it in only a day and a half. It was quite an accomplishment, really. They’d only interacted a handful of times and yet Louis had the insatiable desire to slam the locker into that frustratingly well-defined face that never seemed to hold any expressions other than contempt and arrogance. “That’s right. I do own the skies. And you wanna know why?” he sneered. Without his boots on, Louis was a fair bit shorter than Harry, his eyes pretty much level with Harry’s chin and his socked toes bumping into the boots of the other man, close enough that Louis could make out the tiny scar on Harry’s brow and the individual shades of emerald in his irises. He was handsome, but that only made Louis hate him more. Heart thumping heavily against his sternum and his hands balled into fists, Louis lifted his chin defiantly and plastered a coldhearted smirk across his lips. “Because I’m the best goddamn pilot here.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #blp #blp fic recs #enemies to lovers #larry stylinson #larry

[fuckthemforthis]

Maribor recap or long rambling, some pics and trying to make sense in my head:

1. Thank you @chibi-chellist again for reaching out, it meant a lot not to be alone! Rambling about the boys is so much better in person and when it's not one-sided. I enjoyed meeting you and sharing experiences! 💕

2. Kaj pa Ester? is one of the cringiest things I've recently seen, especially dialog wise haha BUT it is also funny and kinda cute. Very teenage-y I guess, with too much lots of kissing and parties for which scenes they used some terrible modern cajke music (like use the good old soul ripping ones that don't mention Elon Musk... teenagers today smh). Anyway, I wouldn't mind it being longer and better developed in the emotional areas which you see they scratched but need deepening to give an actual sense of plot and sense to the movie. Could be due to the fact it was supposed to be a show first tho. However, I couldn't see Bojan's personality, mannerisms or gestures so in that sense I feel he did a great job acting 👏

And THE SCENE. Oh boy. Less sad and more frustrated bojerking. Putting shame aside to admit I would love to have it available on demand, especially for some ragged breathing appreciation...

3. Bought and tried Jan's fav cookies, yaay! They're really soft and don't crumble so I approve and will enjoy. I'm sure sentimental reasons are definitely a big part of why he named them as favorite and when I think about it they really suit him but there are better Slovenian cookies like almost any from Težak bakery in Zreče.

4. Half the venue were teenagers or parents with anything between 4 to 12 year olds. I was surrounded. And since I sat a few rows above the backstage entrance, kids all tried reaching for them as they were going off stage and among all the girls there was an 8 (?) year old boy who reached out and Bojan gave him a high-five... and lemme tell you I very much dislike kids but the way that boy turned and excitedly smiled melted my icy heart.

5. Third concert of theirs, third time on Jan's side. And I think Kris somehow knows & takes revenge by not singing NGVOT whenever I'm in the audience 😔

Well Krisko, princess dear, no photos of you 😝

6. Found it adorable how as ASTP was starting, Nace went to drink some water, took his bottle and clinked it against Jure's 🥂

7. Love that Maks was there again, I like the guy. At some point during the concert he was leaning on the fence above me taking pics and I missed half a song watching him work 🙈

8. As I was behind the loudspeakers, I heard Bojan's singing fine, but talking barely because it was often too distorted. What I did hear was him saying we came there for a workout to burn all the cookie calories from the last few days... and boy are you on the wrong track because I came back home with four different packs of cookies 🍪

9. Band dad Niko's daughter was with him watching the concert from next to the stage and he danced with her and it was adorable. The existence of good dads baffles my poor unloved ass...

10. We all know how in the setlist there's a connection between Padam and Demoni because Bojan even sometimes said "and when we fall they come", but I realised the chain starts with Dopamin. First you get a dopamine rush and feel like flying but soon you experience a crash because your body used up all the good stuff and then comes the falling and the demons (and then you go back to someone so the demons would go away but that someone just plays you again - if I wanna extend it to Katrina). Yes it's kind of a concert - post concert sadness - concert rinse&repeat metaphor

11. Janči had problems with his pedalboard for the first two or three songs, he and Kiki spent minutes fiddling with it trying to get it to work. Poor guy can't catch a break.

12. So yeah, the last point is based on Jan being sick, but it's actually about the main reason I like them so much - the connection, love and care they share.

I realised Jan wasn't okay during the concert so Bojan just confirmed it for me. He obviously still slayed, and he went to play at the front a lot, but there were telling moments.

A) When Bojan came to Jan at one point and rubbed his back in a very non performative way, squeezing at his shoulder and whispering something.

B) When Jan plopped down during Padam I thought "not when he usually goes down, is he okay?" and then Bojan leaned down to stroke his hair.

C) The most telling of all, when he sat down during Umazane misli. I kept looking at him, ignoring the left-front-right karaoke. He looked so tired and off, put his head in his hands and then Kiki gave him a bottle of water. When Nace turned around and noticed him like that, he smiled encouragingly and told him it's okay three times (yep they were close enough to read lips) and that's when I was 100% sure something was wrong and he was either feeling off emotionally or sick. He then got up, went to the front, played his ass off and only when he was walking back was it visable again for a moment how empty his expression was.

D) Jure coming to comfort him and cheer him up as soon as he could lift his ass away from those drums, leading him to the front where in the end Jan turned out to be the one stroking Nace's back in a "yeah it's okay" kinda way

E) As they were leaving for the final time, someone gave Jan a wrapped present he looked actually happy about and he threw back a pick but it fell where the person couldn't reach so Nace took over making sure the person gets it.

That's it. They are all utterly beautiful. And anyone who knows me, knows I use that word to describe people first and foremost on the inside. Beautiful.

#joker out #my emotions are still all over the place

[marlynnofmany]

The Oddest of Odd Jobs

Captain Piercing Sunlight rubbed her knuckles together, making yellow scales click. It was a more worrying sign of agitation than when Paint did it. The good captain was concerned.

“I imagine more opportunities will be posted soon,” she said, staring up at the job board. Not a single one of the posts was a request for a courier ship, or even passenger transport. It was all local stuff for this colony world. Surprising, really, since the people living here surely needed stuff they couldn’t make for themselves yet, but nobody seemed to be asking for a delivery.

“We could try the other colony,” Kavlae suggested, pointing vaguely over her shoulder while a gust of wind ruffled her head frills. With the sky-blue tone of her skin, she looked cold in the breeze, but that was normal. “I spotted a big spaceport while we were coming in.” Kavlae always noticed alternate landing sites; it was part of what made her a good pilot.

Before Captain Sunlight could reply, Zhee hissed sharply, which I’d learned was the bug-alien equivalent of a skeptical snort. “They’ll know we came from this one,” he said. “The local news said there’s feuding already.”

“What, really?” Kavlae asked while Captain Sunlight sighed deeply. “Weren’t the colonies started by the same group? They’ve got the whole planet to share, and they’re feuding?”

“Territorial species,” Zhee said with a dismissive click of his pincher arms. “Not enough food-plants to go around, apparently.”

“Keep your voice small,” warned the captain with a pointed glance at the nearest large passerby, who could crush any of us with a single hoof. Not a species to insult carelessly, or even on purpose. Six limbs, two of which were sometimes arms, lots of muscle, and even antlers. Nobody had told me the species name yet, but I was privately calling them Space Moose.

“Fine, fine,” Zhee said, folding his pinchers grumpily and glaring up at the board.

Captain Sunlight looked up as well. “Is there anything on here that looks do-able?” she asked, addressing all three of us.

I studied the grid of job posts. The rest of our crew was busy getting supplies — I hoped we weren’t about to skim over something that another person would catch. But just as I thought it, my eyes fell on a posting from a human ship.

“Oh, someone lost a dog!” I exclaimed, pointing. “They couldn’t find it before they left. That’s so sad.”

“We can keep an eye out,” Captain Sunlight said. “Our ship doesn’t have any of the fancy bio-scanners for seeking out that sort of thing.”

I read the whole post, looking for details. A three-year-old husky, male, “exceptionally fluffy,” named Matt. Which was short for Mattress. I loved him already.

“How recent is the post?” Kavlae asked.

“Just two days ago,” I said. “I hope the dog is okay. It says they last saw him at the edge of town.”

“There is a thriving ecosystem here,” Captain Sunlight reminded me gently. “The animal can surely find its way.”

“But he’ll be lonely,” I said, forlorn. Poor Mattress.

Before I could whine about it further, Zhee laughed and pointed at a different post, tapping it with one of his little wrist fingers. “Look at this. Anyone fancy being an exorcist today?” At his tap, the post unfurled a map and a sound clip. He pressed play.

A very familiar yodeling howl filled the air. Unsettling, if you were an alien herbivore. A glance at my crewmates showed that none of them recognized it either.

I grinned. “You guys, we have to be exorcists today.”

* * *

“We saw it again just last night,” said the enormous space moose, his deep voice going high with nerves. “It actually went into our shed, and no one is ready to go see if it’s gone yet.”

“I will check for you,” I assured him. Captain Sunlight was letting me take point on this job, and Zhee was doing his best to keep his sarcasm to himself. Kavlae looked nervous.

“You don’t need anything else?” the space moose asked. “Armor, weapons?”

“No, I’m pretty sure this ghost is friendly,” I said, holding up the only two things I had brought: a sheet of fish jerky and a clip-rope from the cargo bay. “At least, he should be happy to see me. But you guys stay back, okay?”

The towering behemoth was more than ready to stay behind. Several other moosey faces peered through a long window in the house nearby. They hadn’t even come outside. Captain Sunlight told Zhee and Kavlae to stay where they were, and to give the human space to work.

I looped the rope over my shoulder and approached the shed on quiet feet. The post had said the dog wasn’t aggressive, but I knew full well how unpredictable fear could make an animal. (People too, really. All the more reason for the others to hang back.)

The shed was big, more what would pass for house-sized where I was from, and it just seemed to get bigger. Plain-looking otherwise. Flat beige walls and a slanted roof, no windows. A door that stood open. A spill of pellets all over the floor, which proved to be from the torn corner of a bag like I’d seen at the market.

Grain stuff, so hopefully okay for a dog’s system, I thought, hesitating outside the doorway. As long as he didn’t eat more than his stomach can hold. Here’s hoping it tastes bad.

I cleared my throat. “Ma-att,” I singsonged. “Matt! Mattress! Here, boy!”

A rustle and a thump was all the warning I got before a very large and exceptionally fluffy dog charged out and tackled me to the ground.

The moose bellowed in panic and my crewmates shouted. Mattress licked every inch of my face, prancing and whining while I did my level best to sit up.

“It’s okay!” I called out between licks. “He’s just happy! Here, boy, do you want a treat?” I scrabbled for the jerky that I’d dropped, and managed to redirect the dog’s attention without losing a finger. I got to my feet while he tore at the jerky, tail wagging at light speed. Good thing it was the soft kind of fish jerky. At this rate, he might have hurt himself on the stiff kind.

“Are you all right?” Captain Sunlight asked from where she stood.

“I’m fine!” I said with a wave.

She and the other two had stepped away from the space moose, who seemed to be making an effort to breathe his way through a panic attack. I didn’t blame them. The poor guy looked equally likely to pick fight over flight.

Better get everybody settled, I thought, turning back to Mattress and finding the rope where it had fallen. He had a collar, thankfully. While he finished gulping down the food, I clipped the rope to his collar and wrapped the end around my hand multiple times. Then I stroked that thick fur and murmured praises.

“Is it safe?” asked the space moose in a strained voice.

“Yes, just a moment,” I said as Mattress started prancing about again. “Matt, sit.”

He sat. Huzzah. I stroked his head, and his tail thumped the ground with gusto.

“Good dog.” I took a step and tugged the leash. “Heel.”

He sprang up and trotted after me, tail wagging and tongue lolling, though with slightly less chaos-gremlin energy.

“Good boy,” I said, then led him over to where everyone waited. I didn’t get too close. “Sit,” I repeated. He sat.

The space moose was calming down admirably, though his eyes were still a little wide. “You do seem to have it well under control,” he admitted. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I told him. “This guy just wants to go home. We can handle that.”

“You have my gratitude,” the moose said. “And now, money. Extra for speed.”

Captain Sunlight handled that part, while I stroked Mattress in a subtle search for injuries or problems stuck in his fur. He returned the favor by licking my ear with far too much saliva. I tried not to grimace, and wiped it off with my sleeve. “Good dog.”

“All right, let’s get this animal to the ship,” Captain Sunlight said.

“I’ll call up the owners for you as soon as we get there,” Kavlae said, checking her pocket communicator for the phone number from the post. We’d all saved copies.

“I’m sure they will want to see their animal in the cameras,” Captain Sunlight said, turning to me. “I trust you can keep it calm inside the cabin?”

I assured her that I could. We said our goodbyes to the space moose and his family watching from the house, then headed back to the spaceport.

Mattress followed happily, though judging by the panting, he was thirsty. There probably hadn’t been much to drink in that shed, and the jerky on top of alien kibble was bound to make things worse.

“We’ll get you a bowl of water right away,” I promised him. “Okay, boy?”

Mattress looked up at me with alert ears and that particular doggy smile.

Captain Sunlight got out her own phone. “I’ll have Wio ready one for us. How big of a bowl do you need?”

“Um, just have her fill one of the smaller cookpots. He looks pretty thirsty.”

Kavlae asked from a fair distance away, “How can you tell?”

“He’s breathing hard,” I said. “With his tongue sticking out like that.”

Zhee was also giving the dog a wide berth. “Is that why it’s doing that?” he asked. “I assumed the animal was showing off its teeth for the benefit of anyone who might offer it harm.”

“No, he’s smiling!” I said. “Look at that; that’s a happy face. Just a little thirsty.”

Zhee muttered something disparaging about predators being allowed in close range. Kavlae laughed, and Captain Sunlight shook her head.

I looked from face to face. “You guys don’t keep pets, do you?” I asked. “None of you?”

“None like that,” Captain Sunlight said. “Nothing that could kill us, no.”

“He wouldn’t do that!” I said with an exaggerated ruffle of Mattress’s fur. “He’s a good dog! And look how fluffy! Such a nice soft pillow, he’d probably let you take a nap on him.”

“No thanks,” said Zhee. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“You don’t see the appeal? Do—” My smile slipped when I really looked at Zhee’s exoskeleton. “I don’t think you can fully appreciate the feel of soft fluffy things, can you?”

Zhee’s unimpressed scoffing confirmed my suspicions. I looked to Captain Sunlight, and her own scaly hands. “What about you? Not a big deal?” I didn’t wait for her answer before turning to Kavlae, the vaguely fishy humanoid with frills everywhere. “You have proper skin! Come pet this dog!”

She didn’t want to, but under my insistence and Mattress’s continued good behavior, she finally edged forward and brushed a hand across the copious floof.

“Oh, that is soft,” she said.

“See? And he is such a good boy.” I patted him some more, and he responded by licking both of us.

Kavlae yelped, pulling back.

“It’s okay,” I hurried to say. “That means he likes you.”

“Oh,” Kavlae said. She sniffed her hand, then retched. “Oh, he smells!”

I looked down at him and had to admit, “Yeah, that’s another thing dogs do.”

“To the ship!” Captain Sunlight announced. “For water, a phone call, and then a thorough cleansing! Which I’m sure our favorite animal expert can handle, yes?”

I sighed. “Yes. I won’t enjoy it, though.”

Zhee hissed a laugh. “Maybe you can take a nap on the creature afterward.”

“Maybe! Just you watch. Might have to tire him out a bit first though. I’m sure nobody would mind a game of fetch in the cargo bay, right?”

Captain Sunlight gave me a look, but she didn’t say no.

~~~

The ongoing adventures in backstory for this book! More to come.

#my writing #the Token Human #I got Mattress's name from that other post about names #a couple weeks ago #his humans absolutely have a cat named Missy too (Missile Launcher) #fun with names #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #dogs #good dogs #in spaaace #space moose

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch 11

Now we're getting into the fun part! 😋 The metaphorical shit is about to hit the fan as Frankie and our reader get ready for their one year anniversary on September 26, 2013. I had a lot of "fun" writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it even though I'm now taking a seriously hard left turn with this series, away from the fluffy little bubble I've wrapped us in. The warnings will contain spoilers so I've put them in a separate post and will update them as I go: Warnings

Word count: 6.2 k

Chapter 12

Chapter 1, if you want to catch up from the beginning

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories

“Cariño! I’ve got to go now, come kiss me!” Frankie calls through the apartment as he pulls on his boots, hastily tying them up before he tugs on his jacket. “Carinooooooo!” he wails, “come kiss me goodbye, I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me!” 

You spit out the toothpaste and rush to rinse your mouth, before opening the bathroom door, looking over at your baby of a boyfriend who’s currently standing by the door, bag in hand, making puppy eyes at you. “Cariñoooooo!" he wails impatiently while you pad over to him on bare feet, shaking your head. 

“You’re such a baby, Francisco Morales,” you wrap your arms around his neck as he bends down and gives you a wet kiss on your lips before trailing more wet kisses down your throat. 

“I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me,” he gives you a fake pout as he stands up. “You’re sure you’re ok to pack everything up on your own? I’ll be back as soon as possible so we can just load into the truck and go.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll do some laundry and pack the last of the food. Just ring me when you leave work and I’ll be ready to go when you’re back.” 

“Ok, hermosa, mi amor, my gorgeous cariño, happy anniversary, my love,” Frankie captures your chin between his thumb and fingers and you smile up at him as he gives you another long kiss. 

“Happy anniversary, Frankie, my love,” you mumble against his lips, giggling as he tries to push you up against the door, groping at your ass, “I thought you had to leave.” 

“I do, fuck, but I don’t want to,” Frankie sighs, and plants a final kiss on your mouth before he opens the door and heads out, “I’ll see you this afternoon, hermosa,” he smiles, “te amo.” 

“Love you too, Frankie.” 

You lock up behind him and continue to get ready. The plan is to head out of the city and up to Denny’s cabin as soon as Frankie’s back from work. You’re working from home today to save some time, you’ve set aside manuscripts to read and that’s best done from home anyway. 

Frankie had surprised you a couple of weeks ago by telling you he’d asked Denny if you two could borrow the cabin for your anniversary, have a little holiday together. Today was exactly one year since you met at The Outback Bar and it had been the best year of your life thanks to Frankie. A weekend escape, just the two of you at the cabin, sounded like the perfect way to celebrate. To make matters even better you’d closed on a house just a few days ago, all the paperwork signed, you didn’t even have the keys yet, but you’d still spent the past three days mentally decorating the whole place. Frankie had sent Lucía pictures of the house and her room and she’d been over the moon to see the pictures of the pool outside. Now you were planning on throwing your very first Thanksgiving dinner at your new house together with Frankie and Lucía. 

You allowed yourself to get lost in daydreams for a while as you finished your breakfast and cleared the kitchen, throwing a load of clothes in the washing machine. While it ran its cycle you sat down at your small home office and went over the manuscript. 

Frankie called you just after lunch with bad news. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I think I’ll probably be later than I thought, things are fucking crazy today,” he sighed over the phone. “One of our choppers crashed, we can’t get hold of the pilot, I’m just fucking praying he’s ok, Denny’s on his way out there now.” You can hear him rub his hand over his face, rough against his scruffy beard, “And I’ve got to fly three doctors to different locations, apparently they’re swamped, all kinds of crazy shit happening, it’s like it’s a full moon night but it’s midday.” 

“It’s fine, Frankie, just fly safe, you’ll get here when you get here and if it’s too late we’ll drive up tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted to be with you all weekend,” he huffs, “Fuck, I’ve got to go, Denny’s on the radio. Talk soon, cariño.” He hangs up before you have a chance to say goodbye. 

By the time seven pm rolls around you have everything packed up for the trip to the cabin, you’ve been checking your phone for Frankie’s phone call for the past hour. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said things were crazy today, you’d gone down to the corner store for some snacks for the road and found it closed, shutters down even though it was only five pm, the streets empty. And on your way back to the apartment you’d seen a police car crash into a small car. You’d started running over to the crash to see if you could help but a police man had stumbled from the cruiser and yelled at you to get back inside, to stay away. Something in his voice had scared you and you’d turned back straight away, running back to your building and up the stairs. 

Once back in the apartment you’d locked the door and tried calling Frankie, but he didn’t pick up. That wasn’t unusual, he usually couldn’t answer when he was flying, if you really needed to get hold of him you’d call Denny and he’d patch you through on the radio. But you tried Denny too and there was no reply there either, not on his cell or the landline to the airfield. 

So now it’s seven pm and you’re getting antsy. There are an extraordinary amount of police sirens outside, the news are talking about riots in the streets downtown, but the footage makes it look more like a warzone and the local news cuts the broadcast when someone attacks the camera man. 

At nine you’re pacing the apartment, back and forth between the big window facing the street and the small window in the kitchen overlooking the parking lot. When your phone rings you jump, and relief floods your chest when you see that it’s Frankie. “Frankie, where are you? Did you see the news?” you ask when you pick up, but you’re interrupted by him straight away. 

“Cariño, where are you? Still at home?” He sounds stressed and he’s breathing hard. 

“Yeah, I’m at home, waiting for you, of course. What’s going on, are you running?” You press your phone to your ear, trying to hear what’s going on around him, you can hear people shouting in the background. 

“I was, I’m trying to get away from Washington Park, I…I got into some trouble,” he stutters, “some guy was beating up another guy and I pulled over to stop him, I had to pull him off the other guy but he was fucking crazy, like high on salts or something, never seen anything like it. He came after me and I had to…I’m sorry cariño, I had to…take him out.” 

You hear the shame in his voice, you’ve only talked a couple of times about the guy in the bar Frankie beat up because he thought he’d hit you. He knew his skill at violence scared you and he’d done his utmost to prove to you that he wasn’t a violent person. But now he’d had to take this guy out, in self defence, and he was trying to explain it to you. 

“Just get home, Frankie,” you say, “we can talk when you get here, just get home.” 

“I’m trying, hermosa, but the police turned up and…fuck…hang on.” 

You hear his heavy boots shuffling over broken glass and hard ground, he grunts as he seems to move through or over a structure, nearly dropping the phone. 

“Ok, I have to keep moving, hermosa,” he pants, “the police turned up and…they thought I’d killed the guy, the didn’t see him beating up the other guy an-” 

“You killed him!?” your eyes are wide, you’ve stopped dead in your tracks in front of the big window. 

“I don’t know, cariño, the police came, they pulled their guns on me, I had to run and-”

“Frankie, why the fuck did you run from the police? You’re gonna get into so much more trouble now!” 

“I couldn’t stay, something isn’t right, some weird shit is happening all over town.” 

“And fucking running from the police after beating someone to death is the way to make it less weird, Frankie?” you spit out, you’ve been worried about him for hours but now your nervous energy shifts into anger at his stupidity. “Just get the fuck home and we’ll deal with this mess in the morning, or just maybe just turn yourself in, it’s gonna look so bad with you running from the scene.” You sigh, pushing your fingers through your hair, “Frankie, why’d you have to be so reckless?”  

Frankie bristles, you can hear his anger, “You don’t understa-” he begins but suddenly your phone goes dead, cutting him off. You look down at the screen and curse, you have no reception, there are no bars, it looks like the service has overloaded or gone down.

“Fuck,” you say out loud, and turn it off, maybe a restart will help, but no luck. Your phone is still dead and when you try calling Frankie on your landline phone it goes straight to voicemail. You leave a message, telling him to just come home as soon as possible. 

After that there’s not much to do except wait, you resume your path between the kitchen window and the living room window, stopping every now and then to flick through the news, all hell seems to be breaking out across the state, even the country. You try calling Frankie a few more times but it still goes straight to voicemail. The knot in your stomach is growing, making you feel nauseous with nerves. 

You call Pope but there’s no reply so you call Will’s landline. Hannah picks up and she’s frantic with worry about Will, he’s not back from work and she can’t get hold of him either. Benny was meant to have dinner with them and he’s taken the car to try and go pick up Will at work but with the cell phone services down she can’t reach him either.  

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” she almost cries, “I saw people running down the street just now and I don’t know if I should leave or what?” 

“No, just stay put, Will or Benny will come back there so just lock up and wait,” you say, you can’t stop yourself from biting your nails, you feel panic rising in your throat.

You promise to keep in touch and update each other, when you hang up you feel sick to your stomach. You desperately want Frankie to come back, you need to see him and feel his arms around you, tell you it’ll be alright, but no matter how many times you call, you only get his voicemail. You ring a few extra times just to hear his voice repeat the same message. 

“Hi, this is Francisco Morales, I can’t pick up right now, please leave a message.” 

“Please, please, please, Frankie, come home, come home, baby,” you whisper into the phone as you listen to his voice again. 

Night has fallen outside and it’s even worse, around the city fires have broken out and from your apartment you can see a couple of them burn out of control. Just after midnight the news channel stops broadcasting, suddenly, in the middle of an update. You flick through the channels but there’s only static on all of them. 

You call Will’s place again but there’s no reply, you hope that means Benny has brought back Will to Hannah, and they can’t pick up right now, maybe they’re on their way here. 

Just as you’ve put the phone down it rings again and you snatch it up. 

“Frankie?” you almost cry down the receiver but instead you hear Pope’s worried voice. 

“Is Frankie there?” he asks, you can hear the stress in his voice. 

“No, he called at nine, he…he was in some trouble but I don’t know…he was on his way home, but he’s not here yet,” your words rush out, “Pope, what’s  happening? I can’t get hold of Will or Benny either and I’m freaking out!” 

“I don’t know, it’s a shit show, people are…listen, I’m not too far from you, I’ll try and make it over there. I’m on a military frequency so my phone’s still up, I’ll call you if anything. Just stay put inside, keep the door locked.”

“Yes, yeah, of course, I’m waiting for Frankie, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, double checking the lock and deadbolt on the front door. 

“Do you have a weapon, a gun, baseball bat, knife, anything?” he asks, you can hear him jogging, his shoes drumming along whatever hard surface he is on. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think we have a gun, we have a baseball bat, and the kitchen knives,” you frown, looking out the window again, “Pope, why do I need to arm myself, are people looting?” 

“Yeah, they’re looting and it’s getting violent, so stay inside, and don’t open to anyone except me or Frankie. And don’t talk to anyone but me or Frankie, ok?” 

“Ok, I’ll dig out the baseball bat straight away but…but just get here, please, Pope, I’m really scared.” You leave the window and go to the closet in the guest room where Frankie keeps his old bat. 

“I know, I know, I’ll get there as soon as I can.” 

“Hurry, please, and stay safe, Santi,” you say, you can feel tears gathering on your lashes as your voice starts to wobble. 

“I need you to be strong, ok,” Pope’s voice is firm, as if he’s giving a soldier orders, “I need you to handle yourself, if someone tries to come through that door, you need to defend yourself, do you understand? Even kill them if it comes to that, do not let anyone attack you.”

“Santi…” you stumble, “I can’t..”

“I know, but you have to. This is serious, Frankie’s not around so I need to make sure you’re safe, and for you to be safe, you need to be ruthless now, do you understand?” His voice has a sharp edge, he’s breathing hard, moving fast trying to get to you, and the reality of what he’s saying hits you. 

“I promise, Pope,” you whisper, “I’ll…I’ll try my best to defend myself, I’ll try.” 

“Good, I’m about an hour away on foot, but it’s slow going. Give me two to three hours and I should be there.” 

“Stay safe, Santi, please,” you beg, pressing the receiver of the phone to your ear, as if hearing the voice of your friend will keep him and you safe. 

“I’ll try my best, and stay strong for me, and for Frankie, ok?” 

“I will,” you promise. 

… 

When his phone dies, Frankie hears the click and then nothing. He had a feeling this would happen, it’s mayhem in the city and the system is bound to be overloaded, so the lack of reception is no surprise, but he still curses under his breath. 

He was moving down narrow back alleys, jogging fast, staying off the main streets, avoiding people, especially any police, as he tried to get away from Washington Park. When he’d put some distance between himself and the park, he’d stopped to call home. He’d crouched down just behind a dumpster, keeping out of sight, while he talked to her. Now he stands up carefully, looking up and down the alley and considers his next move. The keys to his truck are in his pocket, it’s still where he left it by the park, he could maybe try to get back to it but the police are sure to be there. 

But something, at the back of his head, tells him he needs to keep moving and get home as fast as possible. Things are not normal, the whole day has been a shit show, but now, now it’s getting out of control. The man he’d tried stopping beating up the other guy had been raging, he’d turned and attacked Frankie so fast he’d barely had time to react. Only his instincts from the army, slower now but still just under the surface, had saved him from getting bit, fucking bit! 

The guy had actually tried biting him when Frankie sidestepped, and tripped him up, making him fall to the ground. He’d been on his feet in a flash and Frankie knew the guy was high on something when he saw his eyes, so he’d sidestepped again and swung an elbow to the guy’s head, hitting him in the temple. It had been harder than he’d intended but the sudden attack had his adrenaline running high, and the man had dropped to the ground and remained motionless. 

As he started running, when the police pulled up, his only thought was to get away as fast as possible. But as he ran, as he put a couple of blocks between him and the park, he saw others starting to act strange. When a city bus crashed into a taxi he dodged into an alley, the passengers on the bus flailing about inside as if they were locked in battle with each other. Frankie’s gut was yelling at him that something was very wrong, this was not just a weird day, this was something else, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. So he’d stopped to call her, to hear her voice and make sure she was safe, and let her know he was trying to get home. 

The way the call ended, when the phone network died, left a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the unfolding mayhem in the city. This weekend was meant to be about them, he wanted everything to be perfect, and now the last words between them had been anger. The small box in his jacket pocket represented everything he wanted for their future, and more than anything he needed to get back to her, to explain what had happened and get them out of the city for their anniversary. Whatever the fuck was going with everyone else, he needed to be with her, at the cabin, and ask her to be his wife. Everything else was secondary. 

Frankie drew a deep breath and started moving back towards Washington Park. He needs his truck, it’s their best chance at getting out of the city. Hopefully the police had been called away on something else, letting paramedics deal with the guy he’d taken down, maybe he hadn’t actually killed him. 

He stays on side streets and alleys, keeping low, staying out of sight. When he sees the door to a gun shop wide open, he pauses, considering the risk. A gun would make him feel safer, but looting one now, is pretty shitty behaviour. The thought stays with him for only a second, before he cautiously moves into the shop. The back of the shop is dark but quiet, broken glass crunches under his boots as he moves towards one of the display cases. There’s rifles on the wall but they’re too hard to hide, instead he quickly finds a Glock among the wreckage, the familiar gun feels solid in his hand. 

There’s ammo behind the counter but when he steps around it, he sees the woman, splayed on the floor, face down. He stops in his tracks, staring down at her still form for a beat. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and he can see the blood where it’s been ripped open over her shoulder. It doesn’t look like a significant amount of blood but he can’t see her face, can’t tell if she’s alive or not. 

There’s a box of ammo near him and he quickly loads the gun, sliding a full magazine into the Glock. He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the day has been, but he keeps his gun trained on the woman, safety off, while he carefully moves towards her. There’s more ammo behind her and he wants to pick it up, but he also doesn’t want to leave her injured or dead without checking on her. 

Gently he nudges the toe of his boot against her hand, shifting it slightly, and he hears a deep growl, inhuman. The sound makes him take a quick step back, more glass breaking under his feet with a loud crackle. The woman lifts her head and turns to look at him for a beat. All Frankie has time to think is that her eyes have the same rage as the man at the park, she scrambles to her feet and launches herself at him. He fires his gun on instinct, the bullet hitting her cheek, the close range making it explode out the back of her head. 

She drops instantly as Frankie holds the gun trained at her. It takes a split second for his training to kick in, but then he moves. Stepping over her, he grabs two more boxes of ammo, stuffing them in his pockets, before he quickly throws himself over the counter and heads out the back door he came through, checking the street before he leaves. Walking fast, but not running, he puts the safety back on the gun and shoves into the back of his trousers, out of sight under his jacket. His breathing is normal but he can feel adrenaline pumping through his system, muscle memory makes him move through the city as if it’s hostile enemy territory. 

What the fuck is going on? What was that? Bad batch of some drug on the streets? 

As he moves back towards the truck he checks his phone, there’s still no reception. There are more people on the streets now, more cars too, all heading for the freeway. He sees a family hastily throw bags into a car, a cat in a travel cage stuffed into the back. Other cars speed past, full of stuff, people are packing up and leaving. The sight makes him anxious, he needs to do the same, get back home, get to her, and get the fuck out. 

Screw the weekend, we need to get the fuck out of the city fast, whatever this is, it’s not gonna be over by Monday.

He finally spots his truck, parked where he left it, the man he’d knocked out nowhere in sight, and no police. Quickly scanning the area for signs of trouble, Frankie crosses the street and gets into the truck. He breathes a sigh of relief when he can lock the door and the engine rumbles to life. He can see traffic lining up on the other side of the park so he takes a side street, mapping the best route back home in his head as he tries to drive as fast as he can, people are running along the streets, cars speeding past and it gets worse the closer to downtown he gets. He tries to skirt around it but as he turns down a side street he finds it blocked by a truck that’s crashed into a building. 

“Fuck,” he breathes under his breath, there’s fire under the truck and he can see people on the other side. Quickly he reverses back onto the main street and turns left, heading a few more blocks down. The traffic’s getting heavy and it’s getting harder to avoid getting stuck, up ahead he sees cars grinding to a halt and in a last second decision he pulls a hard right and turns down a narrow alley, he knows it connects to another big road after a couple of blocks but it will get him closer to home at least, almost all the way there if it’s clear. He barrels through the alley, slowing down only to take the sharp turn onto the main road, and speeding up as he sees the way ahead of him clear. The harsh headlights flooding the cabin of his truck is the only warning he has when the bus slams into the passenger side of the truck. The screech of metal and tyres is the last thing Frankie hears as the world outside the shattered windscreen goes spinning and turns to black. 

…

Your body is telling you to sleep but you can’t, it’s almost three am and you’re on the couch, with a painful knot in your stomach. There’s sirens wailing outside, close by, and you’ve heard screams of terror and pain throughout the night. Frankie’s baseball bat is next to you on the couch, your hand shoots out to grab it whenever you hear a sound, your nerves on edge, the big kitchen knife on the coffee table. You’ve cried yourself dry with worry, Frankie’s not home, Pope hasn’t arrived either, you feel like you’re all alone in the world and every minute you’re fighting to keep the panic down. Pope’s words, keep strong for me and for Frankie, roll through your brain, it’s all you’ve got to keep you from falling over the edge. 

A loud crack rings out somewhere in your building and you shoot up to your feet, it sounded close and it sounded like a gunshot. Straining your ears you try to hear more, but the wailing sirens from outside make it hard to make out anything. Slowly moving closer to the front door, you grip the bat in your hand. You stop in the hall, holding your breath and listen intently in the silence. Suddenly you hear a shoe scuffle against the floor outside your door and you bite down hard on your lip, your heart is thumping so loudly it’s deafening. 

A soft tap on the door startles you enough to make you jump back into Frankie’s sneakers on the shoe rack. 

“It’s me, Pope, open the door,” Santi’s familiar voice filters low through the front door and you almost cry with relief, stumbling forward to unlock it. He comes through it as soon as it’s open enough to let him in and he immediately closes it behind him, locking and sliding the deadbolt in place. When he turns to you, you throw your arms around him, and you feel him grab hold of you, squeezing you tight as he pulls you into the living room. 

“Santi, I’m so scared,” you sob, fighting back tears, as he sets you down on the couch, “what’s happening?” 

“I don’t know yet, Frankie isn’t back?” he asks, looking around the living room. 

“N-No, I haven’t heard from him since the cell network went down,” tears well up in your eyes, “h-he said, he was coming back here. But that was six hours ago, Santi!” The tears spill over as fear overcomes you and he sits down next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, gently shushing you. 

“Deep breaths, hermana, you need to focus,” he turns you around, putting both hands on your shoulders, squeezing them as his eyes lock onto yours. “Listen, I need you to stay with me now, ok?” 

You nod weakly as Pope wipes your cheek with the back of his hand, “We need to pack essentials and get out of here, there’s a couple of dirt bikes in the garage under your building, I’ve got the keys and-” 

“I’m not leaving without Frankie,” you say immediately, leaning back from Pope instinctively. “I have to stay here until he comes back.” 

“You can’t, it’s not safe, I have to keep you safe while Frankie’s not around,” Pope grabs your shoulders again, as if to press it into you but you baulk. 

“If I leave, with the phones down, he won’t find me. He said he was coming back here and I said I’d stay until he came back,” you pull away from Pope and stand up, moving to the window to look down on the street again. 

“Hermana, you haven’t seen the city, it’s chaos,” he’s stands up and comes after you, grabbing hold of your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on but people are unhinged, losing control and attacking each other,” his grip on your arm loosens a little but he’s turning you to look at him, “I don’t want to scare you more, but it’s bad out there, people are dying.” He falters, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’m sorry, this isn’t going away anytime soon, and Frankie might not make it back.” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that!” You feel panic rising in your chest and you push him away.

“I saw a woman…she was…she killed a child, it’s that bad out there,” Santi grabs you again, a pained look on his face, pleading, “I’m sorry, Frankie is a very capable soldier, one of the best, but it took all I had to make it here.” 

You pull your arm from his hand, “He’s coming back here, I’m not leaving without him,” you spit out and step back into the living room, crossing your arms as you turn back to Pope, he’s looking at you from the window. 

“I can’t leave you here, Frankie’s my best friend, my brother, and you’re the love of his life, I’ve got to keep you safe. For him, hermana.” He’s pleading with you but you shake your head even as tears well up in your eyes again. 

“If you want to help Frankie, get to Lucía. Take one of the dirt bikes, get her and we’ll meet you at Denny’s cabin.” You’re staring at him, your jaw set, you know Pope can’t argue with that and he has no choice. As he drops his chin to his chest you know you’ve got your way. 

“Ok,” he sighs, “I’ll go and get Lucía, but you have to promise me that if Frankie’s not back by Sunday morning, you take the other bike and come up to the cabin too,” he’s walked over to you again, looking down at you with dark eyes, “if he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back. Take the bike, get to the cabin.” 

“He’s coming back, Santi.” 

“I really want you to be right, hermana,” he sighs as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You slump against him, you can feel your body shaking with the onslaught of nerves and adrenaline. 

“He has to come back,” you whisper into his chest, “he has to, he has to, he has to,” you repeat as a mantra as Pope gently strokes your back. 

You don’t notice when Pope carefully lays you down in your bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your exhausted body and mind shuts down for a few hours and lets you sleep without dreams. When you wake with a start, daylight is starting to creep through your window, and for a second it feels like a normal morning, until you see Frankie’s side of the bed, empty. 

You push back the blanket and make your way out to the living room to find Santi on the couch, two guns and a rifle laid out in front of him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking up at you. “I hope you managed to sleep some.” 

You sit down next to him on the couch, watching his methodical movements with the weapons, “Did you sleep at all?” 

“No, I kept watch, but it’s fine,” he adds as he sees your concerned look, “I’m still running on adrenaline and I’m used to it. Pulled plenty of all nighters in the army.” 

“Did anything happen while I slept?” You move to the kitchen and open the fridge to pull out some breakfast, the inside of the fridge is dark. 

“The electricity and the military phone network cut out about an hour ago,” Pope nods at the fridge. “Eat whatever might go bad first.” He stands up and grabs a backpack, you recognise it as Frankie’s spare one. “I’ve packed enough to keep me going for a few days, and I’ve done the same for you and Frankie,” he points to a bigger backpack, Frankie’s hiking pack. “I’m gonna try to get to Lucía now, you and Frankie head to the cabin as soon as possible. Get out of the city, that’ll be Frankie’s plan too.”

He comes over to you where you’re standing by the kitchen counter, frozen in your movements. “Remember what I said last night, hermana, I’m sorry, but if he’s not back by Sunday morning…” he pauses and grabs hold of your hand, squeezing it tight, “if he’s not back, you have to leave by yourself and get to the cabin. Promise me,” his dark eyes are bearing into you as his fingers wrap around your own. 

“I promise, I’ll leave if he’s not back by Sunday morning,” you say, your voice barely over a whisper. 

“Ok,” he gives your hand another squeeze and goes back to Frankie’s backpack. “I’m leaving a gun with you, and some ammo, it’s in the pack,” he shows you the boxes in an outside pocket. “This is your gun,” he picks up one of the handguns on the coffee table, “it’s easy enough to handle, I’ll show you.”

“Where did you get them?” you ask, “did you just happen to have two guns and a rifle on you yesterday?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Santi looks at you, “I broke into a gunshop and took them.” He sees the way your eyes widen and holds up his hand, “Look out of the window, the world is falling apart, I don’t know what is happening, but looting three guns to protect myself and you, is the least of our worries right now.” He picks up the gun and motions you over and shows you how to hold it, “Grab it like this, both hands, keep it steady.” 

The gun is heavy and cold in your hands, “You really think the world is falling apart?” Your voice is quiet as you adjust your grip as Pope moves your fingers. 

“The first thing I heard yesterday was that something was going on in Indonesia, then Rotterdam. Here, put your thumb like this.” He moves your thumb to cross over your hand, “then there were news reports from all over the US. And if things are as bad there as they are here, then yeah, I think the world is falling apart.” 

He steps back and looks at your grip on the gun, “That’s it, hold it like that and squeeze the trigger when you’re ready.” 

You pull back on the trigger and the gun clicks. “So we get to the cabin and then what?” you ask, looking down the barrel of the gun, feeling the weight. 

“We hold down the fort, wait it out, until it’s under control again.” Pope gently takes the gun from your hands and shows you how to load it, making you go through the motions several times. When he decides you’ve got a hang of it, he takes the gun and gives it to you, “Safety on, keep it within easy reach. I should’ve gotten you a holster but stick it in the back of your pants for now, keep it on you at all times, ok?” 

“Ok,” you nod, doing as he says before looking up at him. “Do you think the others, Will and Benny, will come up to the cabin too?”

“If they can, yeah, it’s the most logical choice.” 

He turns and grabs the smaller backpack and his jacket, “I’m leaving, I’ll get to Lucía, get her and her mom, if I can, back to the cabin. Sunday morning, ok?” 

“Sunday morning I leave if he’s not back, yes, Santi.” You nod, your jaw tight. 

“Ok. And listen, when you do leave, with or without Frankie, don’t trust anyone. People are attacking without warning, like animals.” Pope’s eyes are on you, imploring you to understand, “Anyone moves towards you, shoot them, aim for the torso to bring them down, then head shot, to kill. I know it’s not going to be easy, but if you want to survive, you have to. Get to the cabin, I’ll be there.” He pulls you in for a big hug, squeezing you tight and you hold on to him for as long as you can before he pulls away. 

“Stay safe, Santi.” 

“You too, hermana.”  

You walk him to the front door and watch him as he listens through it for a couple a minute, the landing outside is silent. Carefully he opens the door, gun drawn, and peeks outside. Daylight is filtering through the windows, shining some light into the stairwell. With a final look at you he steps through the door and you close it behind him, locking it securely again. 

Walking back to the living room, you sit down on the couch. Twenty four hours until Sunday morning.

All you can do now is wait.

Chapter 12

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales angst #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #santiago garcia #the pilot and his girl #tlou fanfiction #tlou fandom

[givemea-dam-break]

heart's fury - prologue

book one: hope "prologue"

in which a story begins.

pairing: zuko x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys! first part of my big zuko x reader, which was originally post on ao3 here! this is a brain baby created by my return to the atla fandom (first time properly being in the fandom since i first watched this as a child rip) and a need to write something for it which woooo! big moment since i had been in the biggest writing slump i've ever had before i wrote this. i hope you all enjoy the first part, and the following chapters, because i have so enjoyed writing this and continue to enjoy it! love u all <3

warnings: none

words: 838 heart's fury masterlist

There was something so idyllic about the southern seas in the early morning. The way the sun’s fiery light reflected atop the soft blue waves; the smell of salt and cold air mixing together; the distinctly freezing southern air that, somehow, could not permeate (y/n)’s thick jacket. She felt strangely warm standing at the bow of the ship, staring at the towering icebergs that the ship easily slipped between. She wondered how anything could become so large, so imposing, but she supposed it was part of the southern charm. The last she had heard, the Southern Water Tribe had dwindled in numbers. Fire Nation soldiers imprisoned their waterbenders decades ago and, though they were accustomed to the cold, not every child could survive in such extreme conditions. No outsiders, including the Fire Nation, had set foot in Southern Water Tribe territory in years. (y/n) could only imagine how sparse their population was. But they were persistent, these Southerners, like the icebergs. They had not let the Fire Nation get the best of them. 

“What are you doing out at this time?” a voice asked from behind. “It is far too cold and early.”

“Catching some peace,” she said simply. “My gut is telling me that today is going to be different.”

A hand came to rest on the railing beside her, old and weathered and gentle, but still admirably strong. Connected to the hand was, well, perhaps the only Fire Nation nobility she had been able to tolerate in years. 

General Iroh, now retired, had a kind face and a soft smile that she was sure would alone keep her warm if she had not been wearing her jacket. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead, and the deepness of his smile lines did not age him but, rather, did the opposite. He reminded her of a mischievous - yet remarkably wise - child; one that could not be trusted alone with a basket of sweet treats. He shivered in his red robes, but he kept a firm grip on the icy metal railing.

“And why do you say that?”

(y/n) turned her gaze back on the icy path ahead of them. She had always trusted her intuition, knowing that it was a better weapon than her knives or even her bending, but she often couldn’t explain the reasons why she felt things. Maybe it stemmed from her childhood, some sixth sense she had developed by guessing what her mother would make for breakfast or which way her father would take her on his ostrich-horse to get to the Royal Palace in the mornings. Perhaps it was some semblance of a spiritual connection - one of Iroh’s stories that had taken root and given her a strong mind.

She wasn’t sure what her answer to his question should be.

“Just a feeling,” she said. She always said.

It seemed to be enough to appease Iroh. “We are nearing the south pole. I fear that my nephew will be let down once more.”

It was a justified concern. The reason they both stood on this ship, thousands of miles away from home, was a fruitless hunt, bred from punishment, shame, and a terrible lust for honour and, ever a self-centred royal, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was determined to get what he wanted.

The Avatar.

Two and a half years the three, and a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had been hunting the living legend down. It was a futile search - Fire Lord Ozai was aware of this when he had banished his son - but Prince Zuko was adamant. He had ordered them around the world in search of a man who had not been seen in a hundred years, and thrown a princely fit every time they did not find him. 

Iroh was right to worry. Prince Zuko’s sole ambition was to find the Avatar and restore his honour, taking back his rightful place as heir to the title of Fire Lord, but it made one wonder what would happen if he were to accept that the Avatar was unreachable.

Not that he would ever accept it.

“This isn’t the right path for him,” Iroh murmured. Despite there being nobody else on deck, he kept his voice low, leaning closer. “Capturing the Avatar is not the correct decision.”

He cast her a meaningful look, something in the wise, dark eyes sparkling as he turned and walked away, likely to make himself a cup of tea.

(y/n) breathed a sigh, watching the misty breath hover in front of her before dissipating. This was not the first time Iroh had hinted at the secret she kept close to her chest, clutched in iron fingers. If anyone else were to know, she would likely be dead by now. But Iroh shared her cause.

If they ever found the Avatar, wherever they were, she would fight tooth and nail to ensure Prince Zuko could never take them back to the Fire Nation.

<-masterlist chapter one ->

#givemea-dam-break #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #prince zuko #zuko #atla zuko #zuko fanfiction #atla zuko fanfiction #atla fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #avatar the last airbender #x reader #fanfiction

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - seven

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, the feels, angst, I’m not nice to Yelena in this chapter

word count: 4k

six | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21​ @unaxv​ @mal-adaptive-dreams @elizacusi-blog

a/n: “If We Were Vampires (feat. Wesley Schultz)” by Noah Kahan inspired the last part of this chapter so give it a listen when you get closer to the end. I also need to stop making a posting schedule. I never follow it 😂

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“If you can hear me, clap once.”

“If you can hear me, clap twice.”

“If you can hear me, clap three times.”

“And if you can hear me, put your hands in your lap,” Sunny smiles as the kids follow her instructions, “Thank you, thank you. Now we are going to go outside so when I call your name, please grab your things and go line up. I want a spy line; no one should be able to hear or see us walk down the hallway, yeah?” 

The kids shout ‘yes’ in response and eagerly await their turn to line up, their tiny bodies nearly shaking with excitement to play outside. One by one they collect their things and line up, each having a little side conversation while eyeing the two teachers in the room because they know they’re not following expectations. Jessica, always the fly on the wall, sneaks up behind two boys and surprises them when she whispers, “Aren’t spies supposed to be silent?”

They nod in agreement and quickly shut their mouths, turning to face the person in front of them. Most of the time she’s able to surprise them and scare them (with love) while other times she has to whip out her maternal look of scorn to get them to follow rules. Sunny, however, can glance over in their direction and the kids immediately shape back up. All it takes is one fleeting glance and the kids know to listen. The more challenging ones might need a verbal reminder but sweet little Wyatt Rogers is quick to do that for the teachers. Jessica likes to joke that he will grow up to be a teacher or police officer one day with his love for rules and enforcing them. 

Today is no different with him quickly stepping in to gently correct his peers before Jessica or Sunny have to. Unease fills Sunny though when she meets his startling blue eyes. She convinces herself that he has no way of knowing about Strigoi and that she knows about his parents even though the way his eyes are piercing her at the moment might be telling a different story. She offers him a small smile, hoping to ease her own worry. He smiles back before looking away to talk to the boy behind him. With his eyes no longer analyzing her soul, she should feel a way of relief washing over her but she doesn’t. 

The phone rings, telling them that a parent is there to pick up their child, and she jumps at the sound. Jessica gives her a puzzled look as she starts the headcount and Sunny answers the phone. 

“Hello, dragă.”

The honeyed voice strikes fear into her core and she freezes as it continues to speak, “I’m here for Wyatt. As much as I like Jessica, I’d rather you be the one to bring him out.”

“Uh… yeah okay, I’ll bring Wyatt out,” she stutters, hanging up the phone too quickly and shoving it into her sweatshirt pocket. 

“Wyatt!” she calls over to the boy, “Wyatt it’s time to go home.”

“I can take him,” Jessica offers, still not blissfully unaware of everything that had happened a few days prior. All she had gotten out of her was that the date had gone well. Other than that, not a single word about Bucky or Alix. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”

Jessica catches her wrist before she can walk out of the door, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” and with that, she pulls her wrist away and places her hand on Wyatt’s shoulder to walk him to the main entrance. Standing with his back to the door is Bucky in a black and white tweed jacket with black jeans and a matching striped sweater under. Wyatt races to open the door when he sees his uncle, pushing the door open with all of his might and letting the devil in disguise in. 

“Uncle Buck! Mama said Daddy was going to pick me up today.”

“He got caught up with work and asked me to,” he tells him, ruffling up his blonde hair as he signs him out, “Go wait in the car.”

He allows the boy to duck under his arm as he opens the door before setting his sights on Sunny. 

“Yelena told me that you refused our help again. How am I supposed to be a gentleman if you don’t let me?”

“I don’t think you qualify as a gentleman anymore.”

He raises his thick brows at her insinuation, “And what about me disqualifies me?”

“I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it.”

“I’m not doing anything but asking what you mean so please enlighten me.”

She cocks her head in annoyance, “I need to get back to the classroom.”

“Enlighten me,” he repeats, voice dropping a few octaves. 

To the human ear, they might hear the slight hitch in her breathing but to him, he can hear every intake, how it sticks to the inside of her lungs and refuses to release. He can hear how her heartbeat quickens when he looks or speaks directly to her. He can hear the blood rush throughout her body and pound against the inside of her veins. Everything is laid bare to him and she is painfully aware of it hence why she finds the words spilling out without a second thought, “She told me that you’re a Strigoi and your business is how you know Alix.”

“Oh, she did? What else did she say?”

“You don’t know what she wants with me and that she’s putting herself in a lot of danger coming here.”

“And?” 

“That’s all.”

His eyes narrow in disbelief but he lets it go, eyes softening at the fear that sours her usually sweet scent, “I’ll see you tonight, dragă.”

Too paralyzed by fear, she doesn't ask him what he means and just watches as he lets the door close behind him and gets into the car. It’s not until after his car pulls back onto the road that she snaps back to reality. Her body trembles as she walks back, air Jordans scuffling the linoleum that is probably as old as she imagines Bucky to be. 

Jessica peeks her head out of the doorway, “What took so long? Was he being… a meanie head?”

The girl in front of the line squawks at her choice of words, chiding her for calling someone a name. 

“He just wanted to talk,” she quickly says before turning to the kids, “Remember spies in the hallway, and then you can go wild outside.”

An eruption of excited squeals comes from the line but they all settle down the moment they step into the hallways. Too focused on walking backward and keeping a close eye on the line, her body returns to its normal state and she doesn’t feel the text vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened Friday night?”

“I already did.”

Jessica snorts, “No you did not. Something else happened so spill.”

Sunny’s trained on watching the hoard of children running around the playground, “Nothing else happened, I swear. It went well.”

“What happened with Bucky then?”

“Again nothing. He kept texting me all weekend but I told him I need space until I can figure out what to do.”

“So that’s why you came back terrified, okay, yeah,” sarcasm drips from Jessica’s voice as she mocks the lies, “You don’t have to tell me everything but at least quit lying about it.”

But she can’t. 

She can’t tell her the truth, even a sliver of it will have Jess calling the cops because of how insane she sounds. The underlying pain in her voice tugs at her heart but it’s not enough to make her break and she maintains her cover-up. 

“Jess, seriously, I’m not lying. It’s all just a lot. I wasn’t expecting that from him or to like Yelena so much so it’s just a lot trying to figure out what to do.”

“Yeah well, I know what to do.”

“Do tell.” “Dump him and focus on her. She’s clearly more interested than he is no matter how downright gorgeous he is. I wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Ghost him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jessica sends her one glance and parting words before heading over to diffuse a fight she sees brewing, “There’s no thinking, just ghost him.”

The knock on her door disturbs her peace, drawing a deep groan from her as she stubbornly gets up. The intruder knocks again, more harshly this time as if saying ‘Hurry up and answer the damn door.’ The edible she took earlier needs to kick in faster if she’s going to deal with whoever decided that 10 pm is the perfect time to bother her. Before the third round of knocks comes, she swings open the door and levels a very bored look at Bucky. 

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“I told you I was coming over.”

“And I thought you'd forget but here we are,” she goes to close the door but his large hand stops it. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Is that a part of the Strigoi thing?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ a little too much as she steps to the side and lets him in. It’s dark enough inside that he wonders if she was about to go to bed, however, the music video that’s playing on the projector tells him otherwise. Sza has been playing on repeat since she got home and she’s definitely not about to pause it for him. 

He looks around her apartment, taking in every detail he can about her and the side she never lets anyone see. Ms. Sunny the daycare teacher is not the true representation of who she is aside from a few key characteristics. She is loving, warm, and amazing with kids however those are usually hidden behind her favorite blank stare and quick comebacks. Something about her is distinctly unique and maybe it’s the way she casually knocks his ego down or it’s how quickly she got under his skin without trying. 

Either way, he has to harass her for the basket of edibles on the coffee table, “I didn’t peg you for a stoner.”

She drops back into her spot on the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket, “Says the drug dealer.”

“I’m not a drug dealer,” his retort goes over her head as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch. 

“I find that hard to believe,” leaning forward, she pops open a container and takes another edible. This man requires at least 20 mg for her to put up with his shit. She can feel his eyes burning holes into her back so she offers the container to him. Maybe a little THC will chill him out and he won’t be so unbearable

“I’m not like Alix.”

“So you’re not a mobster and not human?” 

“Well you got me there but I promise I’m not in the same business as she is.” 

“What business are you in exactly?” 

He takes a seat at the other side and says, “Is that the question you really want to ask?”

“It’s the first one I’m going to ask.” 

He pops one into his mouth, eyes on hers the entire time like he’s trying his hardest to devour her. She pays him no mind and turns her attention to her phone to change the playlist. She contemplates putting on a show or movie to pass the time until the edibles hit them but he has other plans. 

“Strigoi and Lycan’s business is different from what you’re thinking.”

Settling back into her corner, she narrows her eyes at him, “Different as in you traffic people?”

“We don’t do that. That’s more of a Lycan thing now. We are more about controlling our population and keeping our existence under wraps.” 

“But you did do it at one point?” 

“No, I didn’t but it was a Strigoi matter years ago. We don’t need to kidnap people to feed.” 

“Next question; can you even get high?”

He lets out a small chuckle and slings his arm across the back of the couch, “Yes but it doesn’t last as long as it does for you. It acts as a dampener for the thirst.” 

Her eyebrows shot up in shock, “Are you always ya know… bloodthirsty?”

“It never really goes away so in a way I guess but I can control myself. There’s no need to be afraid of me,” he softens his voice towards the end, smelling the fear that has started to rise in her. 

“How do you know I’m afraid of you?” 

“I can smell it and I’m not stupid. It’s written all over your face.” 

She drops her face to look at her hands wrapped up in the green blanket her brother gave her before he died. 

“Yelena has been tracking that Lycan woman you saw me with. Alix doesn’t seem to know where you are yet.”

“Key word is yet,” she scoffs, picking at the lint balls on the blanket. 

“If you let us, we could protect you. She might be desperate but she wouldn’t risk years of peace to get to you.” 

“You clearly don’t know her.”

“So tell me then; what does she want with you?” 

The challenge in his words quickens her heartbeat and he snaps his eyes shut to will away the Strigoi inside as the blood rushing becomes overwhelming. When he opens his eyes, she’s staring at him with a knowing look. 

“No need to be afraid of you?” 

“What can I say? There’s something about you that makes me lose my self-control,” he chuckles however she’s unamused. 

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“It should be flattering if anything,” he says as he takes off her leather jacket to reveal a simple gray t-shirt and black jeans. His signature superstars Adidas give him a domesticated look that is all too deceiving when she knows what lurks beneath the surface. 

“How exactly is that flattering?” 

“I’ve been around for a while, not many things tempt me let alone lose control. The fact that just being near you tests that aren’t just a coincidence; there’s something special about you.”

She has to resist her own urge to rack her eyes down his form as she speaks, “Maybe that’s why Alix wants me so bad.”

“Maybe,” he dryly chuckles as the hand on the back of the couch flexes in a not-so-humorous manner at the mention of her ex. 

“How do you know her?”

“I don’t personally know her but I know of her and her reputation.”

She nods her head slowly as the edible sits in but it does nothing to help with the storm in her mind. Everything about Alix and her brother swirls inside as she stares absentmindedly in his direction. 

“I wanted to apologize for the other night,” he starts slowly, hoping to gently bring her back to him, “I saw you with her and it just… I saw red but that isn’t an excuse for how I treated you.”

“You’re right,” she whispers still fixated on his watch. 

“What?” “You’re right,” she says louder now, looking at him head-on, “You were an asshole about the worst possible thing ever. It’s so confusing sometimes how sweet you can be but within seconds, you’re a completely different person.”

It’s his turn to hang his head, “I know and that’s not how I want you to see me. Like I told you, I don’t view this as a fling…”

She interrupts him, “Are you really giving me that bullshit? ‘I can see this turning into something real’? No this,” she gestures between them, “isn’t turning into anything. You blew that chance.”

“I still owe you a dinner so at least let me make that up to you before you completely write me off.”

She stretches out her feet and nearly touches his thighs with them, “Why should I give you a second chance?”

“Because you want to” The hand on the back of the couch falls to her sock-covered feet and drags them to fully rest on his lap.

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs, “No what I want to do is kick you out but I’m not entirely convinced you wouldn't sneak in through a window.”

“I wouldn’t need to because you wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.” 

She pulls her foot back slightly but his hand holds onto it tighter and stops her from pulling away. His touch is not unwelcomed however the protector inside of her screams for her to push him away. 

“Jesus every time you talk, circus music needs to play with how far-fetched some of the shit that comes out of your mouth is.” 

“You’re the one who needs circus music. I see the way you look at me, how your breathing hitches when you see me, how hot you get when I get closer,” his hand is dragging up to her ankle as he continues to mock her, “Don’t you think I can tell when I have an effect on you?” 

“You have the audacity of a middle-aged man who just got divorced,” she tries to deter him from moving his hand up by insulting him. 

 It has the desired effect and his hand freezes on her ankle, chilling her to the bone, “Do I look like a middle-aged man to you?” “No, you look like someone who’s wormed their way into my life and made it a living hell ever since then.”

“I can leave,” he offers, taking his hand off of her ankle and gently nudging her feet off his lap. 

The way he so casually offers to give her what he wants is a surprise, a shock even to her and it takes her a moment to process what he said. In the meantime, he takes his chance to look over her. Anxiety has taken away her ability to sleep and the circles under her eyes have grown more prominent in such a short amount of time. The way she slouches into the couch is also evidence of how stressed she’s become since learning of Alix’s arrival. It pains him to see her in disarray and turmoil but he knows he caused it. Had he taken the time to slowly reveal everything to her maybe she’d be doing better. Had he allowed her to feel comfortable around him so that when he finally did tell her, she would’ve sought comfort with him rather than with Yelena. He’d practically driven her into her arms so he had no right to feel any jealousy about their budding relationship but a part of him wanted to destroy it. 

“Do you want me to call Yelena?” he asks hesitantly. 

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to leave. It’s just… It’s just a lot,” she sighs as she stares at her feet, “I wasn’t expecting her to find me and then for all this to happen. I just don’t know how to handle all of it and it’s not like I can tell Jessica. She wouldn’t understand.”

His nose involuntarily wrinkles at her name but Sunny doesn’t catch it. Sure she’s a lovely girl and a good friend to Sunny but she’s with Peter in some capacity. He tries not to show his annoyance as he speaks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Make it all disappear so I can go back to my normal life,” she half-jokes as she drops her head against the back of the couch.

“I can do that. All you have to do is ask,” he jokes back, resting her hand on her ankle once again, “But I can’t make Strigoi or Lycan go away unfortunately.”

“Or bring my brother back,” slips out before she can stop it. A horrified look takes over her face when she realizes what came out but a soft expression overcomes his. 

“It will get easier even if it doesn’t seem like it right now,” he mutters while his thumb rubs small circles into the skin of her ankle.

“That’s what they all say but I don’t believe them. It’s been five years and it’s just gotten worse,” she glances down at his hand and then back up to him, “Did you have any siblings?”

“I did but that’s a story for a different time,” he tells her after checking his watch. 11:11 pm flashes back up at him and she tries to hide a yawn under her blanket but is unsuccessful. 

He gently pushes her feet off and stands, extending a hand down to her, “Come on, dragă. It’s time for you to get to bed.”

Furrowing her brows at his persistence, she obliges and takes his hand, nearly bumping into his chest from the force of him pulling her up. He smiles softly down at her as his arms enclose her to his chest. Once again they find themselves inches from each other with their noses nearly touching as he leans down. His breath fans over her lips as his barely brush against hers and she lifts onto her toes to meet his but he drops his head on her shoulder. Although she can’t see, he is squeezing his eyes shut to force the animal side of him back into its cage. 

“Hey,” she gently coaxes him to look at her, a hand cradling his face, “Bucky.”

The tender call of her voice brings him to his full height regardless of how much the voice in his head is screaming at him to stop. Black veins are retreating under his red eyes as he regains control of himself and awaits her reaction. The hand that cradles his face drifts over and her thumb brushes where the black veins once were. Her warm touch unthaws emotions deep within him he thought were lost to time and he finds himself dipping back down to catch her lips against his better judgment. 

He knows this can’t go on forever. It’s guaranteed that one of them will spend their days alone. They’d be lucky to get maybe 40 years together but one day, one of them will be gone. That doesn’t stop him from giving what he can to her in this kiss. All of the promises and emotions he can possibly convey are done with the flicker of his tongue and slide of his lips against hers. Her soft noises urge him to keep kissing her as if she alone will sustain him rather than the blood in her veins. His hands slide up her back and find their rightful place holding her face against his, deepening their kiss. 

Sunny stills as she pulls away and tilts her forehead against his, “We can’t do this.” 

Chuckling albeit in a sad manner, he agrees. Yelena is at the forefront of their minds and so are the implications of their relationship as humans and Strigoi. 

He expects her to pull away entirely but she doesn’t and instead, drags him back into a feverish kiss that ignites a fire he hasn’t felt in years. The black veins threaten to return and the red begs to flood the blue eyes she’s grown accustomed to seeing in her dreams. Fangs poke at her bottom lip and she smiles, gently kissing his nose as she pulls away. His natural state, one of animalistic desire, is terrifying to most however she is the exception. There is not a hint of fear and worry in her eyes as they stare up at him. The warmth that his body can no longer proceed is found there and a hint of emotion he prays will develop into more. 

“I need to go to bed.” 

He pauses to allow his body to regain its composure. Emotions overwhelm his thinking and words tumble out without hesitation. 

“I’ll give you every second I can find,” he whispers, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“I know,” she whispers back, drawing him into a hug, “Good night.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #when night comes bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #vampire bucky barnes #vampire au #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire!bucky