#did the company turn up the white volume or something
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summary: in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are.
> fluff, dashes of angst / wc: 4k
> warnings: mention of blood bc oc gets scratched :( + is ready to throw hands at jk’s ex and then cries lol, taehyung cameo and mentions of yeontan :P + a line of jk reminds me of the orpheus drabble <3
note: last one for a while as i take a rest from writing and process jimin’s album <3 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! it goes a long way :]
—
“jungkook, you’ve been in there for an hour! answer your phone!”
you click your tongue in annoyance, bouncing your thighs up and down as you fiddle with the controller and collect your kills with reckless tenacity. the ringing of the third phone call he’s receiving in the past ten minutes is overpowering the volume of the game, which you turned all the way down just enough so that you can faintly yet clearly hear it. well, right now, you can’t anymore. again.
“baby, you’re home?!” jungkook yells in surprise, and you spare him a glance.
half of his naked torso is peeking out of the bathroom door, and he looks like a maltese puppy who heedlessly jumped into a swimming pool, hair still dripping wet and pure excitement painted all over his face.
“who’s calling anyway? you can answer it for me!“
“can’t. i’m playing call of duty.”
“you’re what?!” he exclaims, but his voice enters your ear then escapes from the other as you remain deeply absorbed in the game. he disappears for a minute before emerging from the bathroom, half-naked with a striped white and khaki towel wrapped around his waist down to his knees.
you’re situated on the floor with your back leaning on the couch. he stands beside you with his hands on his waist, watching the television screen in sheer curiosity, which then morphs into astonishment. “wow, you’re actually playing it… i haven’t seen you touch your controller in months. but why are you sudden- yah! what is this? how are you doing so good?!”
the phone lying on the center table lights up once more. the incessant noise is seriously getting into your nerves and you’ve had enough of it, gritting your teeth as you snap. “i’m begging you. answer it. or i might break something.”
the irritation embedded in your voice makes him jut out his bottom lip sadly. more than that, your facial expression and body language evidently scream that you’re feeling on edge. you didn’t even bother to let him know that you’ve come home, and he’s uncertain if you nearly muted the volume because you don’t want to listen to the ear-shattering sounds of ammunition being fired or you don’t want him to hear them.
he picks up the phone per your request, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he fails to recognize the number flashing on the screen.
“it’s an unregistered number. i don’t know who- oopsie-” he scrunches his nose, chuckling because he accidentally ended the call when he muted the device. it vibrates with a new message from the same person not too long after.
“it’s my ex?” he blinks with a blank expression on his face. he intently reads the content of the text, tugging at the silver ring piercing the corner of his lower lip. “uhhh- she’s… asking me to put in a good word for her… because she applied to be an in-house choreographer at- at the company.”
on the other hand, you feel like a bucket of ice water was dunked over your head at the mention of your boyfriend’s ex-lover. your vigorous focus on the game wavers, but luckily, you’re already so close to finishing, and you still maintain half a mind to end the game in your own terms. the word ‘victory’ flashes on the giant screen, and you almost break down into tears because god knows you needed a fucking win today.
jungkook gasps in amazement, whipping out the camera app to capture a photo of your achievement. “did you just fucking win solo versus squads?”
the thing is… you’re not the biggest fan of these games. sure, you play occasionally (only using his accounts because you like how he already has most items unlocked and you can freely play around… you like to pretend that you’ve never been scolded for making him rank down before), but you prefer the relaxing types with adorable and colorful graphics. and just like he said, you haven’t touched your controller in months, which must be the reason why he’s pleasantly surprised. you won’t be shocked if you get bombarded by his gamer friends to play with them tomorrow, by the looks of your boyfriend proudly typing away at his keyboard while smiling from ear-to-ear.
“don’t move on too fast.” you breathe out a deep sigh before standing on your feet. “which ex? that bitch you broke up with because she kept on picking stupid fights with your friends? and now she wants to work with them?”
the combination of your harsh intonation and the recollection of dreadful memories make him wince. that relationship didn’t end on good terms, so this is confusing to him as well. it was a person he wholeheartedly liked, but they barely lasted six months because the way she treated those who are near and dear to him, unkind and discorteous, eventually turned him off and made him nothing but angry. she tried to convince him that she could change, but it was his decision that could no longer be changed.
does it even matter? he didn’t dwell on it too long, anyway. because then, he met you.
“yes,” he shortly answers, flipping his phone so the screen is facing you.
your brain chooses to not register any of the other characters used in the text except for those at the end: the flirty ‘Thanks babe! I miss u so much. See u around soon. Let’s catch up’ and winking emoji blowing a red heart next to it. you release yet another sigh, this time shaky and frustrated, and you gently move his hand aside to get the phone out of your sight. a headache is beginning to blossom at your temples, and you truly do not have the energy to deal with this bullshit right now.
“you must know how i feel about this, right?”
“i’m not sure-”
“like if she calls you ‘babe’ infront of my face i won’t hold back and i will claw her eyes ou-“
“okay, okay, baby, i got it!” he chuckles, taking a hold of your arms to pull you closer to him. he plants a sweet kiss to your lips, hoping that would aid in putting your mind at ease. “i won’t let her call me that again, hmm? or do anything that will make either of us uncomfortable for that matter.”
“good. i trust you. do whatever you want.” you speak softly, giving his rosy cheek light pats. he always looks a dash more attractive when fresh from the shower, so entrancingly hypnotic when bare-faced that it makes you want to fall on your knees and worship the stardust making up his existence.
unfortunately, your mind is too clouded and restless and you can’t stay to admire him some more. you withdraw from his hold, the cold drops of water from his hair sliding down to your forearm and you wipe them away on his towel.
“i’m going out for a bit. i need to buy something at the convenience store.”
you don’t wait for him to answer. you head straight to the bedroom to collect your essentials.
“wait for me. i’ll go with you!”
you return wearing a long purple jacket over your blue t-shirt and white sweatpants, also carrying your phone, wallet and pepper spray.
“i’ll be fine alone. i got this.” you wave the small bottle infront of him before stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatpants.
the front door rings as it opens and shuts, and jungkook despises the weight sitting on top of his chest— heavier and heavier with your absence. he still wanted to insist on tagging along, worried because it’s already late at night, but he gave up when he sensed that you really need to be left alone.
“shit, let me take care of this first.” he tilts his head to the side, and then the other, cracking his neck before he scrolls through his contact list to make an important call.
—
the soles of your sneakers scratch the rough asphalt as you lazily drag yourself to the convenience store. you’re having one of those kind of bad days- you woke up this morning mad at the world for a reason you couldn’t decipher, and it only got worse after you left the house for work. you brushed against someone while chasing the bus and the zipper of their bag scratched your arm that it bled uncontrollably. the nearest restaurant to your workplace was closed and you had to walk an extra kilometer. you didn’t have the time to text jungkook and complain about the shitty day you’ve been having. and you had to suffer the bus ride home beside an old teacher from high school who never ran out of uninteresting stories to tell.
oh! and how can you not mention that you were subjected to remembering that your boyfriend fell in love with other people before he knew you? the mere mental image of jungkook being emotionally and physically intimate with somebody else is a strong punch in the gut that makes you want to run in a corner and hurl.
and to rub salt on the wound, his ex-girlfriend, who is more than comfortable to reach out to him with an old term of endearment, wants to work at close proximity with him after saying ‘i miss you so much’… was the ‘so much’ necessary? was saying ‘i miss you’ necessary at all? you don’t know her intentions or if she even has any, and you don’t care if they’re good or bad. you simply cannot bear the idea of having to be constantly plagued by these vexatious musings.
maybe a good cry would help, but the tears won’t come out of your stinging eyes blinded by bright and flickering neon shop signs lined up beside the street. they’re saltwater in your lungs, making it difficult for you to breathe and to make sense of why you don’t feel like yourself today. it’s hormones. it’s always the hormones, you try telling yourself.
—
you’re sitting infront of the glass wall separating the sidewalk and the convenience store, watching the humans and the cars speeding past without much thought in your head… except for the hellish torture you’re inflicting on yourself. you sniffle loudly as you chew the spicy noodles in your mouth. your tongue is tingling and almost numb, but you lift up the flimsy wooden chopsticks to eat more of it because somehow, this is exactly what you needed. perhaps, it wasn’t accidental when you ended up pouring most of the buldak sauce.
however, your own little bubble gets popped by a tattooed hand you recognize all too well. it sets down a bottle of cold water infront of your cup of noodles.
“hi there.”
jungkook kisses the top of your head before occupying the stool on your left, which is the second seat farthest from the door that chimes every time a new customer walks in. he is very much not naked anymore, wearing a plain white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his hair is still damp, bangs forming a perfect comma on his forehead, and the thin silver chain dangling from his delicate neck sparkles when the light grazes it.
“aigoo, why are you so messy?“
the doe eyes behind his glasses smile at you warmly as he wipes your swollen lips, the paper napkin you’ve been neglecting now stained with the dark red sauce.
“you’re here?” you ask dumbly, wanting to slap yourself right after the words escape your mouth because yes, what the fuck, he’s here. he’s touching you, and he’s real.
“of course, i’m here,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he answers, sounding upset. he removes his glasses and places it on top of the long white table. “i just wore the first things i saw then speedwalked here. i was sorting out the laundry and your handkerchief had blood all over it! care to explain?”
you guiltily avoid eye-contact, reverting your attention to the food as you poke and mix the noodles that have gone dry due to the cold air. “you didn’t have to. i already cleaned the wound twice- my left arm just got scratched.” you shrug your shoulders meekly. “i had a bad day, that’s all.”
“who do i have to fight, huh? who hurt you and ruined your day?” he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting it up to make you look at him. his sincere concern is written all over his widened round eyes and creased forehead. “tell me, baby. i’ll make them pay.”
“well,” you anxiously sink your teeth on your bottom lip, a hesitant effort to control yourself because the particular word tastes too sour on your tongue. “your ex was just my last straw, you know? i don’t even want to call you ‘babe’ anymore.” your voice gradually quiets down in exasperation.
“why not?!”
you roll your eyes with a huff, pushing his hand away. “you’ll just remember her every time i say it.”
you grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap and hissing when its ridges scratch the heel of your palm. you take big gulps of the beverage, feeling refreshed after the burning onslaught that assaulted your mouth.
“oh, come here. you- i need you closer.”
you squeak when you feel the heavy metal chair moving closer towards jungkook’s direction, one hand flying to your mouth and the other gripping his shoulder in fear of falling. he jokingly copies you when you send him a sharp glare. he puts an arm around you to affectionately hold the curve of your waist, anchoring his elbow on the table to rest his face on the palm of his hand.
“i took care of that, alright? i asked the company and they told me they put her on the waitlist. pretty sure she knows, too- that she’s not getting the job.“ he raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows in jest, playfully sticking out his tongue. “i told her i can’t help her, and not to contact me again in the future because i’m in a committed relationship. with you.” he squeezes your hip to reiterate his words. “then i blocked her number. i thought i did it before, but i guess i forgot to? ah, i don’t know!”
a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips and he happily grins when he notices, deep dimples making an appearance. unable to resist the urge, he briefly draws closer to kiss your cheek.
“besides, i forgot she even existed. why would i think of her when my favorite person is right infront of me? that’s absurd.”
he was truthfully flabbergasted at the foggy memories that resurfaced when he read her name, had one of those ‘oh, that’s right, this happened,’ and ‘why the fuck did i like this person again?’ moments.
“you’re the only one i think of when i hear the word ‘babe’. and when i hear love songs, or breakup songs, because they make me imagine us breaking up and i get so fucking sad.” his expression crumples into a look of sheepishness after spitting out the unplanned confession.
it’s terrifying at times, how an imaginary breakup with you feels more painful than his past heartbreaks combined. he almost lost you once, and he won’t let that happen again. he removes his hand on your waist to tenderly caress your hair when you bury your face in your hands.
shaking your head, you giggle at the genuine distress lacing his voice when he said the last sentence. “what are you saying?”
and then it finally happens.
restrained sobs replace the carefree giggles racking your body. your hot tears soak the palm of your hands until they drip down to your wrists. your frail voice comes out trembling, shattered, and disgustingly vulnerable for a space scattered with prying eyes and ears.
“…i just- fuck, i don’t want to say this but- i don’t think you understand- that i’m selfish. and i want you all for myself. i can’t stand that everybody wants to have you. i hate it, jungkook.”
your name rolls off from his tongue with a soft sigh as he pulls you in for a tight embrace. the comfort of his love and warmth further breaks you down, and you almost make yourself bleed to keep your cries quiet. his silken lips brush against your temple before he puckers them for a kiss that lasts four, five, six… seconds. you begin wondering if he might just stay like this forever, not that you mind, until he detaches himself to speak and you hear the smooching sound that signals the end of it.
“shhh, trust me, baby. i do.” he rubs your shoulder to soothe your tensed up body. “but i don’t care about that. they can die trying because i only want to be yours.”
you swallow the lump in your throat as his reassuring words tug at your heartstrings. you wiggle out of his secure arms, wiping your tears with the paws of your jacket as you force a smile. “it’s embarrassing. i don’t want to cry here.”
“how about in there, then?” he teasingly undoes the third button of his shirt, exposing more of his honey skin to the cool air. it reveals the rest of his silver chain, and his defined pecs are also peeking out. you whine in protest of his scandalousness, pounding his chest lightly with your closed fist.
he chuckles, corners of her crinkling with mischief as he buttons himself up again. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding-” he cradles your face in his hands, gingerly wiping away the tears still rolling down your cheeks.
between the two of you, he admits that he’s the one who cries more easily. it takes a colossal build-up of emotions for your tears to be released, and today’s influx caused your sink to overflow at long last. seeing you weep, it feels like a direct stab to the heart— especially unbearable, twisting deeper, when he’s part reason why. even so, it’s a big relief when the weight you’re carrying is being unloaded. but he understands that you don’t want to do that here… not here.
“as if you’ll let someone steal me away from you, huh? i know you, you cunning minx.”
you feign innocence, batting your eyelashes. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“that’s exactly what i’m talking about.” he smirks before planting a chaste kiss on tip of your nose. “don’t cry anymore. i love you.”
“i love you, too. but-” you sniffle, frowning at him as you motion at the cup of noodles infront of you. “why did you have to go and make me feel better? i don’t feel like finishing this anymore. it’s too spicy.”
“yeah, i can tell. look at your face. oh-” he squeezes your puffy face in one hand. “you were already crying eating that, poor baby… i’ll just finish the rest, how about that?”
“please,” you smile sweetly, delighted with his preposition. “i’ll buy ice cream. do you want anything? beer?”
“beer-” his face lights up like a christmas tree when it dawns on him that you said the word simultaneously.
you beam proudly, recounting the time you’ve been well-acquainted with every nook and cranny of jungkook’s essence of being. “did i pass the test? i’m taking my master’s degree in kookology.”
—
after jungkook finished your spicy noodles, he claimed his appetite only treated it as an appetizer and it demanded to be served ramyeon for the main course. that brings you to this moment, your boyfriend applying bandaids on your arm while he waits for his food to be cooked. concurrently, you devour your cone of vanilla ice cream.
“babe, i think two is enough.“ you attempt to stop him from opening another one of the teddy bear patterned bandaids. he found them displayed by the counter when he paid for the ramyeon, and only then did he realize that he forgot why he ran to you in the first place.
“they’re not- it goes all the way down your elbow.”
and you can’t argue with him because he looks undoubtedly pissed off, his expression instantly darkening when he saw the damage that damn zipper did to your skin. if this happened to him, he would be in a terrible mood for the rest of the day, too.
he plants a healing kiss on top of each one and your heart flutters at the loving gestures, but you feel a little ridiculous walking around with three bandaids running across your arm. you decide to wear your jacket again in order to hide them, since you’re freezing beside the airconditioner anyway.
jungkook starts eating his second round of noodles, but not before boasting that he perfectly separated the wooden chopsticks unlike you. you roll your eyes at his cocky grin and tiny dance of celebration, taking another bite of the cone you’ve consumed halfway.
the two of you comically freeze at the same time when a familiar ringtone tickles your ears.
“who would be calling at this hour? it’s 1am!” jungkook puts down his chopsticks to fish out his phone from the depths of his pocket, his thick satoori accent slipping out as he chides the person on the other line. he shakes his head with a laugh when he sees the name written on the screen. “ey, of course, it’s him again. i knew it.”
you watch him with an amused smile, his reaction giving you an inkling of who it is.
he answers the video call and props up the phone on his tall can of beer, grabbing his chopsticks to resume eating. “hyung, did you just wake up again?”
judging by the background, taehyung is in his gaming room. the given keywords being messy hair and eyes as puffy as yours, you’re pretty sure the answer to your boyfriend’s question is yes.
his deep and rough voice rumbles through the speaker. “jungkook-ah, i just caught up to our gc. where’s ___?”
“with me. why?” jungkook answers, words muffled as he chews and bounces his legs with the pleasure of having his food craving beyond satisfied.
taehyung ignores his question for the second time, instead calling out your name to catch your attention.
“whyyy?” you mimic his sulky tone, slightly shifting the phone to the side to show him your face.
you snicker when he flashes you his famous boxy smile, almost choking on your ice cream when his following remarks cause jungkook to throw a fit.
“play with me. no one else is awake and i’m getting bored of jungkook. he doesn’t want to play new games.”
“yah! you know i can still hear you, right?!” he takes a break from chugging his beer to throw his retort.
“i know, i wanted you to.” taehyung blows a raspberry at his best friend.
you grimace, stealing the opportunity to butt in before their banter lengthens. “listen, i’ll play with you if you let me play with tannie again.”
he opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it again to stare at you nonchalantly. you impatiently quirk an eyebrow at his silence. “soooo?”
“wait there. i’ll think about it.”
and then he ends the call.
jungkook throws his head back, bursting into vibrant laughter after witnessing the interaction, and your head drops on the table with a pitiful whimper.
with bam staying at the training center for the meantime, you awfully miss the rush of happy chemicals flooding your brain in the company of man’s best friend. it was two weeks ago when you and jungkook hung out at taehyung’s house. you spent some time with yeontan at the park after you complained about getting bored watching them play ‘i’m on observation duty’. and he wasn’t… very happy when his dog started flat-out ignoring him in favor of your presence ever since you came back from the walk. tannie was adamant on sitting on your lap during dinnertime, even almost following you past the front door when it was time for you to leave.
“aww, my baby.” jungkook strokes your back with faux sympathy. “he hasn’t moved on from it yet. give him some time… maybe, like, five more minutes?”
—
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
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#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook one shot#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook au#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut
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Can we get more of Chris with a rockstar/singer girlfriend!!?!! I thought it was really cute 😭🙏
Rough
Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Chris decides to visit Y/N one day while she’s bored at home. She had just finished painting her nails, and this sparked an idea in both their heads🎸
Warnings⚠️: None really, there’s like on suggestive statement in here that’s about it🤞🏽
Song for the imagine: White Wedding Pt. 1- Billy Idol
It's a nice day to start again
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again
I woke up today super bored, so I asked Chris to come over later on. I had a band practice for a few hours, and didn’t want him to sit around all day doing nothing but watching me. Although he expressed how much he didn’t mind I wanted to sit and spend time with him
I got back from practice and decided to shower and wait around for Chris. I cleaned up my apartment a bit and decided to wait for Chris before making something for us to eat.
I went to my room and decided to put my music on, and I sat on my bed singing along. I leaned over and opened my night stand and saw my black nail polish.
“Ouu I haven’t painted my nails in a while” I said to myself
I grabbed my nail polish and decided to walk over to my vanity to start painting my nails. I turned the volume up to 10, and began to paint my nails. I was almost done with my coat of clear polish when I heard my front door open. It was Chris finally.
I heard Chris walk towards my door, and opened it
“My girl” he said smiling like a child
“Babyyy” I said smiling at him
He walked over and pecked my lips
“How was practice?” He asked taking his sweater off
“It was good. Ran long though we couldn’t get the right pitch for a while” I said blowing on my nails
“Atta girl you never give up” he said winking at me
I blushed at that and shook my head. Chris was so cute and goofy, and honestly I wasn’t sure how we worked out so well, but we did.
I remember when we first met I was singing at a restaurant, and he would not stop staring at me. He came up to me afterwards when he found me sitting at the bar and talked my ear off. Usually guys like him weren’t my type, but I felt myself slowly enjoying his company.
I didn’t bite at the chance initially. I was playing hard to get because I figured he’d back off after a while. Clearly he liked a challenge. I remember there was one show I spotted him at, and at the end of it I approached him
“Stalker much?” I said laughing
“What?? Me” he said laughing
“Everywhere I perform you’re there” I said to him
“I like your voice” he said
“Listen kid you’re sweet, but this won’t work out” i said pointing to the both of us
“Oh come on give it a chance” he said
“We are not meant for each other” I said laughing
“One chance, just one date” he said pleading
“Sorry, but no” I said and walked away
Chris followed me and kept trying to get me to change my mind. Asking why? And to give him a chance
“You don’t give up do you?” I asked laughing
“I like a challenge” he said
“Well this challenge isn’t for you” I said continuing to walk
“You don’t know that” he said
I looked at him and scoffed
“Fine! One date” I told him
That was a good year and a half ago. To say giving this weirdo a chance was the best thing to happen to me would be an understatement
“What color did you paint them? Black” he said looking over at me from my bed
“Yup” I said showing my nails off to him
“Love them” he said smiling at me
“Thank you baby” I said closing the bottles
“I always want to paint my nails, but I never do” he said
“Ouu can I paint them for you?” I asked him
“Sure” he said
I got up grabbing the bottles and sat criss-crossed in front of Chris.
“Alright hand me your fingers” I said
Chris gave me his right hand and I began to paint his nails when my favorite song played.
“Fuckkk I love this song” I said bobbing my head
“What song is this?” He asked me
“Get Off by Kittie. This song made me want to get into a band and sing my heart out” I said looking up at him
Chris and I chatted a bit before the song became a bit intense
“Woahhh this is crazy” he said looking over at my tv
“That’s what makes it so fucking good, it’s such a powerful song” I said
“These girls are basically screaming” he said laughing
“Hey! I’d classify it as female rage. I love it” I said looking at him
“It’s not a bad song, I wouldn’t listen to it, but it’s uhh strong” he said
I rolled my eyes at him and continued to paint his nails. I was starting the top coat when another song began to play.
“See a song like this I could get by. Sounds nice has good lyrics and good rhythm” Chris said nodding his head to the music
“This is a great song too I’m shocked you like it” I said finishing the last finger
“What’s the name I have to add it to my list” he said
“Sextape by Deftones” I told him
“Interesting name, but I fuck with it” he said shrugging his shoulders
“You’re all done baby, now they have to dry” I said
I started to blow on his nails for him
“I’m matching with my baby” he said all giddy
“Don’t get all soft on me” I said looking at him
“Can’t I get emotional over this” he said giving me a straight face
“Go right ahead” I said laughing at him
“These looks good” he said looking at them
“Thanks to yours truly” I said bowing
“You’re such a weirdo” he said to me
“Not nice Christopher” I said putting my hands on my hips
“Look at you all bossy. It’s hot” he said winking at me
“Stop ittt” I said blushing and rolling my eyes
I sat back on the bed with him and pulled out my phone. Snapping a picture of our nails together and posting them on my instagram story writing “he fell in love with an emo girl or whatever Machine Gun Kelly said”
We laughed at it and he shook his head, finding it cringey.
“I love when your nails are painted black they look so good wrapped around my dick” he said to me
“CHRISTOPHER” I said smacking him on the chest
“SORRY! Im just being honest” he said laughing
“You horny fuck” I replied shaking my head at him
“What can I say when I have a beautiful powerful sultry woman like you next to me I can’t help myself” he said pulling me in for a kiss
“I’m so glad I have your goofy ass a chance” I said after pulling away from the kiss
“I’m glad too, I love you” he said
“I love you too” I responded and snuggled into him
The End
I wasn’t sure how else to make this storyline again, but I hope you enjoyed it 😭😭. I love yall sooo much🤭🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets imagines#chris sturniolo imagine#Chris sturniolo x reader#Christopher sturniolo imagine
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A Quiet Evening
I’ve never written anything like this before, but I needed some writing practice, and I cannot get Hazbin Hotel out of my head. I wanted to explore his complexity and write something that aligned with his character, our oh-so-scary-and-charming peepaw.
I’ve heard that some ace folks have an interest in reading romance and spice as a way to access certain emotions. I relish the idea of Alastor enjoying a romance novel from time to time. (and yes, the quotes from the book are really in the book)
female reader | not spicy | tension
— Prologue
In life, Alastor always loved a good book. John Steinbeck, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and H.P. Lovecraft were among his favorites. But, the radio demon had a soft spot for a the author Elinor Glyn. While he was out running some errands this morning, he spotted a copy of "It" and Other Stories in the window of a book shop.
It had been so long since he enjoyed a good book. Most of the hotel crew would be out with the provocative one and his explosive friend tonight anyway. A quiet evening accompanied by a good book did sound quite lovely.
Once he finished his hotelier duties, he asked poured himself a glass of Sazerac, tuned the lobby radio to some jazz and swing at a low volume, and settled into the sofa.
He forgot how much he enjoyed a good read. In fact, the film adaptation of “It” was one of the only films he had seen while he was alive. Mimzy dragged him along to a showing one evening. In truth, he never cared much for the medium, but the story was entertaining at least. And, anything is enjoyable in good company.
“I should lend this to Rosie” he thought as he crept through pages of the novel, “she would enjoy this character’s— what does she call it? Ah, yes.. moxie.”
— Part 1
Emerging from your bedroom, you’re confused to find silence in the hotel. Your lively group of sinners must have left for the club already. Feeling a bit relieved, that you’re no longer required to socialize, you make for your bedroom once again. The faintest sound of music hits your ears just before you cross the doorway.
When you became a guest after the last Extermination Day, no one knew what to expect. Charlie was elated to have two fresh faces join the crew. But, after your counterpart bailed in the first week, you were the only remaining new guest.
As you approach the end of the hallway, the sound of swing music is grows louder with each step. Quietly descending the stairs into the lobby, you’re surprised to see Alastor relaxing on the sofa, reading a book in the dimly lit room.
You couldn’t help but be curious about Alastor. You knew the stories of the Radio Demon, and you saw the broadcast of their fight with Heaven. He was scary, sinister, and powerful… yet he had been nothing but kind to you so far.
Quietly approaching the lobby sofa, Alastor doesn’t seem to notice your presence. You peek over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what title has him so invested. Your eyes catch on the sentence: “John was aware of the sex magnetism in her. He instantly wanted to kiss those cherry lips…”
Your breath caught in your throat as you realized, Alastor was reading romance..? There’s no way. Peeking again, you scan the page, your eyes landing on the words “analyzed, dissected, and stripped her.”
Yep. That’s a romance novel.
Alastor cleared his throat and stretched his collar just a bit. You watched, bewildered as he turned his head toward you with a smirk. “You’re not a very good spy, you know” Alastor quipped.
“I’m sorry,” You replied sheepishly. “I didn’t realize anyone else was still here.”
“I thought the very same.” He said, eyes returning to his book. You crossed over to the arm chair across from him and took a seat.
“Not up for a night on the town, my dear?” he said casually, glancing at you over the top of his book. He had traded his monocle for a pair of reading glasses, he was wearing a tied red silk house coat over his white button up, and some loafers. He looked so relaxed, you thought.
“Not really my thing, honestly.” you say, your eyes never meeting his, “It’s loud, it smells, and I can get a better buzz here anyway.” He lowers the book slightly to reveal his signature smile.
“Hm. I often wonder how you ended up down here, Miss ___,” Alastor jokes. You laugh, “My ticket to hell may have been coated in blood, but those petty sins have never been my style,” you reply smirking at him.
“What are you reading?” you ask, crossing one leg over the other in your seat. His eyes trace over your outstretched leg, before meeting yours once again. “Elinor Glyn. A novel called, It” he replied in a dry tone.
“What’s it about?” you asked, thumbing through the redemption lesson plans that were strewn across the end table next to you. His eye twitches. He let out a big sigh, “I was rather enjoying my solitude.” He shifts in his seat a bit.
“Is that all you were enjoying, Alastor?” you teased.
“I suppose I was enjoying the music as well, my dear” he replied, meeting your eyes over the top of his book once again.
“Oh, yes it’s lovely. But, I figured you were enjoying her cherry lips, or maybe her… sex magnetism.” You smirked at him. Annoyance washed over Alastor’s face as his eyes shifted back to his book, and closing it sharply.
“Ah, so you were spying on me.” He places the book down on the couch and rises to his feet. He grabs his glass of Sazerac and slowly starting toward you, static rising in his voice. “Perhaps it’s time you learn your place, Miss ___”
Panic floods your body as the Radio Demon approaches you, static in the air growing stronger. His pupils turn into black dials and he emits a glowing green aura. He could kill you right now.
You uncross your legs, and shift nervously, backing up slightly into your chair as he steps closer, and closer. Despite your fear, a depraved thought crossed your mind. This was kind of hot. NO! It’s not the time for that.
His faces is inches away from yours now, you can feel his breathing, and he can certainly feel your hitched breaths, but you never break the gaze you both hold. Within a millisecond its over. His eyes return to their normal round saucers, and the static dissipates from the air. “Do you understand, my dear?” he asks in a low voice.
His eyes stay locked on yours as he speaks, making your body tense. Are you seriously turned on by this situation?? This close to him, you realize he’s wearing a woody, citrus scent, and it smells incredible. You feel your face begin to grow hot, as a blush reaches your cheeks.
“Yes, sir.” you respond feigning innocence, giving him your best doe eyes.
“Good girl.” he pats your head then turns around to grab his book. “That was a lovely chat, Miss ____.” he says turning slightly to smirk at you, “sleep well.”
Another depraved thought crossed your mind, and this time you headed straight for the bar.
#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel x y/n#alastor imagine#alastor hazbin hotel
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Remember that 737 MAX whose door plug blew out in flight?
A boeing whistleblower created a burner account and reported the following (reproduced here in its entirety in case the original gets deleted):
Current Boeing employee here – I will save you waiting two years for the NTSB report to come out and give it to you for free: the reason the door blew off is stated in black and white in Boeings own records. It is also very, very stupid and speaks volumes about the quality culture at certain portions of the business.
A couple of things to cover before we begin:
Q1) Why should we believe you?
A) You shouldn’t, I’m some random throwaway account, do your own due diligence. Others who work at Boeing can verify what I say is true, but all I ask is you consider the following based on its own merits.
Q2) Why are you doing this?
A) Because there are many cultures at Boeing, and while the executive culture may be throughly compromised since we were bought by McD, there are many other people who still push for a quality product with cutting edge design. My hope is that this is the wake up call that finally forces the Board to take decisive action, and remove the executives that are resisting the necessary cultural changes to return to a company that values safety and quality above schedule.
With that out of the way… why did the left hand (LH) mid-exit door plug blow off of the 737-9 registered as N704AL? Simple- as has been covered in a number of articles and videos across aviation channels, there are 4 bolts that prevent the mid-exit door plug from sliding up off of the door stop fittings that take the actual pressurization loads in flight, and these 4 bolts were not installed when Boeing delivered the airplane, our own records reflect this.
The mid-exit doors on a 737-9 of both the regular and plug variety come from Spirit already installed in what is supposed to be the final configuration and in the Renton factory, there is a job for the doors team to verify this “final” install and rigging meets drawing requirements. In a healthy production system, this would be a “belt and suspenders” sort of check, but the 737 production system is quite far from healthy, its a rambling, shambling, disaster waiting to happen. As a result, this check job that should find minimal defects has in the past 365 calendar days recorded 392 nonconforming findings on 737 mid fuselage door installations (so both actual doors for the high density configs, and plugs like the one that blew out). That is a hideously high and very alarming number, and if our quality system on 737 was healthy, it would have stopped the line and driven the issue back to supplier after the first few instances. Obviously, this did not happen. Now, on the incident aircraft this check job was completed on 31 August 2023, and did turn up discrepancies, but on the RH side door, not the LH that actually failed. I could blame the team for missing certain details, but given the enormous volume of defects they were already finding and fixing, it was inevitable something would slip through- and on the incident aircraft something did. I know what you are thinking at this point, but grab some popcorn because there is a plot twist coming up.
The next day on 1 September 2023 a different team (remember 737s flow through the factory quite quickly, 24 hours completely changes who is working on the plane) wrote up a finding for damaged and improperly installed rivets on the LH mid-exit door of the incident aircraft.
A brief aside to explain two of the record systems Boeing uses in production. The first is a program called CMES which stands for something boring and unimportant but what is important is that CMES is the sole authoritative repository for airplane build records (except on 787 which uses a different program). If a build record in CMES says something was built, inspected, and stamped in accordance with the drawing, then the airplane damn well better be per drawing. The second is a program called SAT, which also stands for something boring and unimportant but what is important is that SAT is *not* an authoritative records system, its a bullentin board where various things affecting the airplane build get posted about and updated with resolutions. You can think of it sort of like a idiots version of Slack or something. Wise readers will already be shuddering and wondering how many consultants were involved, because, yes SAT is a *management visibilty tool*. Like any good management visibilty tool, SAT can generate metrics, lots of metrics, and oh God do Boeing managers love their metrics. As a result, SAT postings are the primary topic of discussion at most daily status meetings, and the whole system is perceived as being extremely important despite, I reiterate, it holding no actual authority at all.
We now return to our incident aircraft, which was written up for having defective rivets on the LH mid-exit door. Now as is standard practice kn Renton (but not to my knowledge in Everett on wide bodies) this write-up happened in two forms, one in CMES, which is the correct venue, and once in SAT to “coordinate the response” but really as a behind-covering measure so the manager of the team that wrote it can show his boss he’s shoved the problem onto someone else. Because there are so many problems with the Spirit build in the 737, Spirit has teams on site in Renton performing warranty work for all of their shoddy quality, and this SAT promptly gets shunted into their queue as a warranty item. Lots of bickering ensues in the SAT messages, and it takes a bit for Spirit to get to the work package. Once they have finished, they send it back to a Boeing QA for final acceptance, but then Malicious Stupid Happens! The Boeing QA writes another record in CMES (again, the correct venue) stating (with pictures) that Spirit has not actually reworked the discrepant rivets, they *just painted over the defects*. In Boeing production speak, this is a “process failure”. For an A&P mechanic at an airline, this would be called “federal crime”.
Presented with evidence of their malfeasance, Spirit reopens the package and admits that not only did they not rework the rivets properly, there is a damaged pressure seal they need to replace (who damaged it, and when it was damaged is not clear to me). The big deal with this seal, at least according to frantic SAT postings, is the part is not on hand, and will need to be ordered, which is going to impact schedule, and (reading between the lines here) Management is Not Happy. 1/2
2/2
However, more critical for purposes of the accident investigation, the pressure seal is unsurprisingly sandwiched between the plug and the fuselage, and you cannot replace it without opening the door plug to gain access. All of this conversation is documented in increasingly aggressive posts in the SAT, but finally we get to the damning entry which reads something along the lines of “coordinating with the doors team to determine if the door will have to be removed entirely, or just opened. If it is removed then a Removal will have to be written.” Note: a Removal is a type of record in CMES that requires formal sign off from QA that the airplane been restored to drawing requirements.
If you have been paying attention to this situation closely, you may be able to spot the critical error: regardless of whether the door is simply opened or removed entirely, the 4 retaining bolts that keep it from sliding off of the door stops have to be pulled out. A removal should be written in either case for QA to verify install, but as it turns out, someone (exactly who will be a fun question for investigators) decides that the door only needs to be opened, and no formal Removal is generated in CMES (the reason for which is unclear, and a major process failure). Therefore, in the official build records of the airplane, a pressure seal that cannot be accessed without opening the door (and thereby removing retaining bolts) is documented as being replaced, but the door is never officially opened and thus no QA inspection is required.
This entire sequence is documented in the SAT, and the nonconformance records in CMES address the damaged rivets and pressure seal, but at no point is the verification job reopened, or is any record of removed retention bolts created, despite it this being a physical impossibility. Finally with Spirit completing their work to Boeing QAs satisfaction, the two rivet-related records in CMES are stamped complete, and the SAT closed on 19 September 2023. No record or comment regarding the retention bolts is made.
I told you it was stupid.
So, where are the bolts? Probably sitting forgotten and unlabeled (because there is no formal record number to label them with) on a work-in-progress bench, unless someone already tossed them in the scrap bin to tidy up.
There’s lots more to be said about the culture that enabled this to happened, but thats the basic details of what happened, the NTSB report will say it in more elegant terms in a few years.
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'closer than you think' - colt seavers x reader
» summary: you help colt unwind after he refuses to properly take care of himself after a rough week of stunt work.
» cw: implied friends with benefits, mentions of bruises, only mention of sex
» word count: 1,588
- hope you enjoy!
. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ *
It was another quiet Thursday night. You were perched on your couch watching late-night television while munching on an unadorned snack of choice. With no interruptions since you arrived home from work, you were ready to settle the remainder of the night in pure solitude. Suddenly, your phone begins buzzing beside you. The name that appeared on the screen read "Colt S.", the vibrations continue as you glance at the phone.
The man named Colt, Colt Seavers, was a longtime friend of yours. He was in the film industry with the position of being a stuntman on many action movie projects, constantly prone to injury and the sort. The two of you met on set a few years ago when he made small talk with you at the craft service table during a short break.
At this time, you had been one of the sound assistants on set. You knew how Colt's job went. He got hurt, did outlandish stunts, and went unseen by the world for a living. Since then, you deemed a connection and close friendship with him, closer than others would have assumed.
You turn the volume down on your TV, answering the phone. "Hey, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be eating dinner by now?" You asked lightheartedly. A faint sigh followed by a chuckle could be heard on the other end.
"Well, good evening to you, too," Colt answers.
"Yeah... I actually just finished eating. I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my place for a bit. I was just lookin' for some company tonight. It's been a long day." His voice sounds fatigued and husky in your ear, piquing your curiosity.
"Uh, sure. That's no problem. See you in about fifteen?" You said, switching the TV off and rising from the couch to get your bag ready.
"See you then." He confirms and ends the call. It was common for Colt to sound tired after a long day of stunt work, but this time he sounded unlike himself. It took you approximately fifteen minutes, as you estimated, to arrive at his apartment complex. After making your way to his door, you gently knocked to let him know you had arrived.
The door unlocked and opened, revealing Colt Seavers himself. He was wearing black sweatpants and a white tank top, purpling bruises visible along his arms. "Hey," He greets you with that signature crooked smile of his.
You step inside the apartment set your bag down on his table, and turn to face him again. "Hey," You reflected. "Is everything all right? You sounded more tired than usual. And what the hell happened to your arms?"
Colt combed a hand through his muddled hair and exhaled through his nose, shrugging. "You know how I said it's been a long day? I should've said a long week. Tons of stunt double scenes for that new movie we're filming up north," He explained, taking a seat on his bed. "I'm fine though, just tired out, y'know."
You nod, acknowledging the struggle of a long work week, especially considering his circumstances. The bruises and darkening circles under his eyes concerned you, however. You took a deep breath and glanced around his apartment at the chaos he lived in, then back to his face. "You look like you need a massage or something. When's the last time you got one?"
Colt sheepishly averted his gaze to the floor, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Um... I don't normally get massages. They kinda slow me down. I prefer to work with the tens on my back instead."
"Could I at least help you ease some pain? I bet you haven't given yourself a relaxing bath lately, either. You got to let those muscles unwind, Colt." You reply, your face written with concern.
His eyes roll playfully and he chuckles, leaning back against the wall. "Jeez, if you wanted to pamper me so much why didn't you say so, Chief?" There's a hint of playfulness in his tone as you stood there crossing your arms with faux irritation. It's his boyish smirk that nearly made you want to jokingly slap it right off, but you relented.
"Let me be concerned for a minute, please. Will you at least get in the bath? I don't have to bother you." You say, sitting beside him. Colt sighed and leaned against your shoulder.
"Sure, whatever makes you stop worrying about me. Which, again, I'm fine."
After a few more minutes of soft bickering, Colt heads into his bathroom and lets the bathtub faucet start to run warm water. As he tries to lift his tank top over his head, he groans and winces from a sharp pain emitting from both of his arms, causing your head to turn in his direction.
"You okay?" You asked from the living area.
"Y-yeah. All good."
From the next quiet groan that followed, you assumed he was lying and you gently opened the bathroom door to see his tank top only halfway off his body, jaw clenched. You had said something along the lines of, "Doesn't sound like it," and you helped him lift the thin fabric from his arms. More bruises and burn marks were visible across his torso.
"God damn it, Colt... What are they making you do in this movie?!" You subconsciously pulled his sweatpants down to the floor, leaving him standing in his boxers.
The caring part of your brain was on autopilot as you gathered Epsom salts from the cabinet and began to sprinkle some into the warm bathwater. Colt observed you with an amused expression, eyebrows raised inquisitively.
"You know I could have done all that myself, yeah? I don't need any help, Chief." He stifled a yawn mid-sentence. "I'm just a little sore, no big deal."
An annoyed sigh escapes your nose as you turn the faucet off. "Please, just get in the bath and let me help. It's the least I could do for you right now."
Colt shrugged and began to remove his boxers, letting them fall to the cold floor as he stepped out of them. You had seen each other nude before on multiple occasions, so this wasn't uncomfortable for either of you.
As Colt lowered his tall frame into the water, his eyes closed blissfully. You smiled triumphantly and poured water over his head, dampening his dirty blonde hair.
"We're doing that, are we?" He inquires with another hint of playfulness and leans back for your convenience. After lathering your hands with shampoo, you begin kneading Colt's scalp, sudsing his hair as you went. His shoulders noticeably lowered, his eyes closing again. A faint purring-like sound rumbled from his throat as you cleaned his hair, an amused grin appearing on your face. It had been a while since you heard his responses to head massages.
You tested the waters and scratched behind his ears, thumbs briefly caressing his jawline, emitting a hushed groan from him. Heat rises to your cheeks as you continue washing his hair, preparing to rinse it. Being intimate with Colt for the fun of it wasn't unknown to you, but this felt... different.
Out of all the kisses and casual sex you shared, taking care of him like this drove your heart to swell differently. You wondered if you could ever be something more to him, more than just a friend.
Colt turns his head to look at you after you rinse the shampoo from his hair, his steely blue eyes staring into your own. Neither of you spoke a word for what seemed like minutes, and Colt gently pressed his lips to your cheek, leaving your face to burn.
After you exchanged smiles and quiet giggles, you continued to wash his hair, silence filling the room except for Colt's groans of approval as you moved to cleanse the rest of his body.
~~~
After you bathed him and helped him redress into his night clothes, Colt insisted you stay the night since it had gotten so late. Of course, you agreed. Before settling in, you had rubbed a soothing lotion over a few of his most painful wounds, pulling him into his bed with you after his skin dried.
A realization must have occurred during the last hour between the both of you because here you are, snuggling against each other with a new sense of closeness you never felt before, with one of his defined arms wrapped around you and yours around him. He tiredly stares at you as you comb through his damp hair, groaning softly at your touch.
"You're like a dog. Likes to be petted," You muse softly, giggling as he gives you a half-baked scowl. It was cute. His eyes were fighting to stay open as he continued to stare at you, sleep desiring to take over his body.
Before Colt dozed off, you leaned forward to connect your lips, kissing him softly. You lay awake for only a few minutes, thinking about how the both of you had an unspoken understanding of your relationship. It seemed meant to be. You held each other close as you drifted off to sleep, embraced in his muscular warmth. You both knew this was the start of something special.
~~~
As you slowly awoke from your slumber, your vision adjusted to see Colt lovingly staring at you, now laying somewhat underneath you. He flashed a goofy little smirk, eyes still glossy from being asleep, placing a chaste kiss to your nose.
"So, you up for some pancakes?"
#colt seavers#colt seavers x reader#the ending is a reference to a scene from the notebook if you squint#ryan gosling x reader#.mine#.myfic#.myart
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Static Dreams
Yandere monster oc x G.N Reader
Had some trouble sleeping last night so I wrote this thing with my oc, Static, when I woke up. Just some fluff with a monster that puts you to bed
You wake up in a cold sweat. Memories from the prior night keep you pressed to the damp mattress; shadows dancing along your walls in the eve of a new dawn. The longer your eyes stayed open, the more of the dream you forgot; yet its hold on you still lingered. You tensed up whenever a shadow would move too much for you liking or at the various sounds of dark.
You sit up as the sun pokes its ugly head through your window. Even if it was still the dead of night, you doubted you'd be able to go back to sleep. You yawn; eyes tight as you stretch with the force it. Recently, you had fell under a spell of poor sleep. From bad dreams, to just finding it difficult to rest.
Throwing your legs off the side of the bed, a new blight works its way into the back of your mind. Faint static clicks in the recess; popping in your ears as it slowly rises in volume. Through the sound, you're able to make out a single string of dialog.
"Come.. home?"
You smile a bit, letting out a chuckle of disbelief as you shake your head. "I'll be there later. Let me take a shower first."
There's a pause in the air.
"Bring the stuff?"
-
After said shower, you leave your apartment and head out into the early morning. Backpack over your shoulder, you venture towards the other side of town where an abandoned house and your new partner resided. The front door is already cracked upon arrival. A layer of dust kicks up as you open it; contaminating the already stuffy air. Not even a foot over the doorframe and you can hear its arrival approaching. Hands slapping against the rotting wood; small groans played between their falls. You hear a clicking noise behind you, followed by a crawl of static electricity as a figure rises behind you. Its tangled white locks drap over your face as it used the height difference between you to lean forward and look down at you. It attempts to tilt its head into an upright angle as it stares you down; static filled eyes giving off small clicks as it blinks.
"Y/n.."
Its voice plays in your head. Rasped; yet soft at the same time and popping like it was filtered through an old radio.
"Good morning to you too, Static."
Static chirps; grabbing the sides of your face and rubbing its nose against it. It lets go and half crawls in front of you; getting a proper view. Its lips pull into what you imagine to be a smile, waiting patiently for your next action; eyes shifting between your backpack and you.
You had met the entity a few weeks prior on a dare. The house had played part in many ghost tales around town, and it was the source of them all. It was rumored to cause any man that met its eyes to go insane, and in a way they were correct. Static was unable to speak on its own, and had to resort to using hallucinations to convert brought on by meeting its gaze, and sounds it could mimic.
After being rightfully terrified, you managed to have a somewhat normal conversation with it, and that's where your relationship began. It appeared in your dreams asking you to return. Hardly even let you leave on the first night. Disregarding their nature and some plot holes in the stories; they made decent company.
"Don't worry. I brought everything." You swing your backpack onto the nearby couch; causing another miniature dust storm in the process. From its depths, you pull out two items; a brush and a laptop - its two favorite things besides yourself. Its hair had a habit of getting mangled over short periods of time, and it enjoyed looking at human media. Something it often did before the previous overs of the house smashed their television due to beliving it was the cause of their nightly troubles.
After turning on, and setting the laptop on the floor; Static takes position in front of it with their back against the couch. They lean back so that you're just able to comb their hair without struggle. You pick up said item and start doing so; the creature letting out a sound akin to a hum as you begin. It always missed you so everytime you left.
You run your fingers through its mane before even thinking about sticking the comb's teeth in. You washed it to your best extent the last time you came so there wasn't much dirt, but it had the texture and consistency of a store bought spider web. It doesn't seem to mind when you have to use a little force, knowing that you're doing your best. You can hear the videos that it listens to as you work.
Somewhere along the line, your tiredness starts to catch up on you. You slack a bit; arms slowly growing heavier as does everything else. You cover your mouth with the back of your palm as you yawn; the click of a spacebar heard the second it leaves your mouth. Static looks back at you; their expression speaking loud on what they were thinking.
Are you okay?
"I'm alright. Just.. been having trouble sleeping lately." You answered honestly. You had restricted its tampering with your dreams, so it had no knowledge of your current troubles until now. It stares at you for a moment, before turning back to the computer. After some typing, and a frame of rapid clicks, it turns back to you. It opens its mouth wide; a gentle melody coming from the back of its throat.
"Twinkle, Twinkle. Little-"
"I don’t think that'll help." You retort with a small laugh. They close their mouth immediately. "I'm fine, don't worry about it."
Their eyes narrow; groaning with a tone that could only mean one word. Liar. They stand back up, and in one swift motion they have you in their arms; barreling out the room and towards the stairs to the second floor. You hang over its right shoulder; protests falling on deaf ears as they bring you to the master bedroom. They toss you gently onto the bed; the mattress kept in pristine condition - possibly for your arrive. They grab both corners of the blankets and shove them over your body.
"S-static? What are you doin-" Your sentence is cut short as they cup your cheeks; eyes glowing brighter than before as they flicker swiftly - locking you in a state of reverie. The shuttering of their lids and the various sounds their body makes drowns into background noise as a ringing silence takes hold. Somewhere through, you hear its voice once more.
"Shhh."
It whispers; bony fingers holding you so delicately. The walls of your surroundings begin to melt as does its monstrous form.
"I don’t want you to get sick. Let me help you go to sleep."
Its voice has grow mellow; fully lips smiling sweetly down at you as it brushes your cheek with the pad of its thumb. Its skin remains as dark as night, but comes full and adds mass to its thin cheeks. It's sunken eyes fit properly into their sockets; shining a faded grey. It took on a human face in visions you had the first time you met for a similar reason; to provide you with as much comfort as possible through the whole process.
Suddenly, you're on a beach. Cool sands beneath your feet as waves crash over; the distant cries of seagulls behind you. The sun is just warm enough to give you the feeling of a warm blanket around your body. You find yourself in a field on a star light night. Cradled by the grass surrounding you and a soft breeze. A star shoots across your field of view; falling someplace else with a streak of its glimmer left on the sky.
Static shows you many things within that time frame. Things that bring you ease; things that you've never seem before. The images come and go, but you can always feel them right by your side; lulling you to sleep with the best extent of their capabilities.
You end up in your bedroom, their hand clasping yours; stroking it gently. There are no stray shadows. No bumps in the night aside from those that might seem pleasant. The atmosphere is so light it feels like your floating, but they're right next to you to keep you grounded. Your eyes become heavy, but the flashes remain. You don’t remember when you finally fall asleep, but they wish you a well deserved rest as you go limp. Staying by your side from then and onwards.
"See you soon... Y/n"
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere oc#yandere insert#yandere story#yandere monster#monster x reader#soft yandere#monster lover#yandere oneshot#static my oc
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❀ VOLUME FOUR: LONG AWAITED VACATION ❀
THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN: DESTINY AND FATE
Eren Yeager x Reader.
Sypnosis:
An alternate universe where Attack on Titan and the Marvel Universe collide! Where the Spider-Man universes collide!
Where the new spider is the, one and only nerdy, Eren Yeager. Who happens to have a world stopping crush on you.
Genre:
Attack on Titan Marvel crossover, Spider-man and Eren Yeager crossover. Multiple parts.
Word count:
27.5 K Words.
『 VOLUME FOUR: LONG AWAITED VACATION…』: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ
Harry had always enjoyed the sweet, comfortable, life. Nothing too eye-catching, or exciting. Just a life where he could crack open a beer, sit back on his porch, lecture his kids over something they did, and enjoy his wife by his side. That was his dream, a loving wife, and dozens of children running around the house.
However, with who his father was, that dream would never be fulfilled. Harry wouldn’t be able to meet someone who genuinely liked him. Not even his father. In fact, his father liked Eren far more than he liked Harry. So, naturally, he spent his time trying to fulfill something else. He wasn’t favorably smart, Eren was smarter by a long shot, but he still enjoyed the technology produced by his father’s company.
In fact, Harry spent quite the amount of energy and time into his father’s company. Either with the workers, or personal projects of his own. School was a backburner option for him, he just attended because Eren went. His attention was caught up in Oscorp. Considering, he was going to be the one to inherit the company. Not by his father’s will, but by mere convenience.
But, his attention soon turned to a white haired girl.
Gwen. She was stunning. Her smile captivated him in a way he didn’t know was possible, and for once, someone didn’t see him for his father, she didn’t see Harry Osborn. Nor did she see Norman Osborn. When Gwen looked at Harry, she saw Harry, and it felt liberating.
Until she met a boy named Peter Parker. That’s when Harry didn’t even exist in her world, he just vanished.
And, that’s when Harry remembered you. Recalling how kind and beautiful you were. Of course, this was after Eren told him he didn’t get the job at Stark Industries, which was a lie Harry soon came to find out, and said he screwed his chance with you.
That's when Harry started to like you. Honestly, it wasn’t long at all. And, realistically, after hearing Eren gush nonstop about you, he practically fell for the person Eren idealized you to be. Of course, none of this attraction had anything to do with Gwen’s sudden loss of interest in him. Or, the fact that you were her best friend, that happened to be single.
Sure, Harry had known about you, everyone knows about you, and he thought you were more than attractive. But, he never thought to act on it, you were Eren’s crush. Which made you off limits.
For the entirety of college. Which he thought was stupid. He loved Eren, truly did. But, his crush on you seemed unhealthy, the two of you barely spoke, and when you did, Eren couldn’t get as much as a word out.
So, that’s why he kept it a secret. Kept you a secret. However, realistically, Harry didn’t want you, more or less like you in the way Eren did. You were the second option in his eyes, the revenge, or jab at Gwen. Which didn’t even work in the way he planned it to. Gwen was too smitten with Peter Parker to even pass him a single glance.
Annoying? Incredibly. But, there was nothing to be done, other than focus his attention on you. Until, the incident at La Rośe happened.
Harry didn’t mean to run, actually no, quite literally the opposite was supposed to happen. He was supposed to whisk you away to safety in his car, putting his life on the line to protect you, only to realize he had driven away with the wrong girl.
Fuck.
Harry ended up having his chauffeur drive her home, before giving you a call. That would ensure that you couldn’t hear a random drunk girl’s babbling over god knows what, it would only make you think the worst of him. And, after driving this random girl across the city, as soon as she stepped foot out of his car, he was calling you. In all honesty, Harry didn’t know what to say.
So, he did what he always did. Drive to Eren’s, and ask for advice. Of course, this led to the fall of their friendship, but it was what Harry needed. Eren was only holding him back from greatness.
“I’m so over it, I can’t believe she rejected me.” Harry spoke aloud, “I pulled so many strings to make that shit happen at La Rośe, and this is what I get in return.” Harry was genuinely upset, which set off many red flags for Reiner and Bertolt.
Reiner nodded his head, arms clasped behind his back. His heart sank with every word Harry spoke. This was the guy trying to be with you, the one willing to put you in intimate danger for the benefit of himself. He looked at Bertolt, speaking with his eyes.
It was frustrating trying to protect you from this man, while not being able to tell you why. And, you brother can’t even imagine what it’s like on your end. But, that’s how it’s always been for Reiner and Bertolt.
Bertolt didn’t say anything, just remained quiet. Glancing at the time. Just five more minutes, then they were off the clock. They wouldn’t have to continue to listen to how Harry put you in intimate danger. It hurt, stung even. But, that’s what they were paid to do, stay quiet, listen to whatever Harry said, and do what they’ve been told.
They were almost paid to be Harry’s friend.
Almost.
Reiner almost cringed when he spoke, “Spider-Man was said to be there.” His hands tightened around each other, “I heard he even saved her.”
Harry froze, his muscles tensing with pure rage. “What.” His voice was like never before, dark, intimidating, and hateful. “Spider-Man? Who the hell is that?” He seethed.
Reiner didn’t know what to call Spider-Man. I mean, he wasn’t necessarily a hero, more or less a villain.
“A new hero.” Bertolt spoke, “A vigilante may be a better term.” He tapped his foot on the ground, trying to calm his nerves.
That’s when Harry’s hatred for the wannabe hero Spider-Man. Not only did he steal his spotlight, he also stole your heart. As told by Reiner and Bertolt when they saw Harry the next day. Supposedly, they had run into you at the park, and caught up. Finding out about your new friendship with the friendly neighborhood vigilante. As well as admiration.
It only fueled Harry’s hatred even further.
So, now knowing that Spider-Man was in Oscorp, only had him pacing back and forth in his office. Reiner and Bertolt sitting in chairs, watching him stress.
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: Harry’s Private Office...]ˎˊ
Harry groaned, sitting in his chair, and looking at his computer. The sketchbook propped on his desk, mocking him silently. “So, that’s why your sister was here.” He whispered, “She didn’t want to make amends. She was here, because Stark Industries sent her to steal the sketchbook back.”
Reiner didn’t say anything.
Bertolt didn’t say anything.
“I figured.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “Seeing her without gloves was the clue that set me off.” He groaned annoyedly, “Fuck.” He tapped his foot on the ground rhythmically, “Of course Spider-Man had to be here too.” His head snapped to the brothers. “How the hell did that pass you two?”
Again, they were silent.
Harry rolled his eyes, running his fingers over the book, tapping his foot on the ground. It wasn’t long before his finger’s were meticulously tapping against his keyboard. Searching for one thing.
Security footage.
Harry’s eyes looked over the screen to the brothers, “It wasn’t a rhetorical question.” He looked back at his screen, “I want an answer. How’d that fly between you two?”
Because, we didn’t grow up villains fighting heroes. Reiner tightened his hand around the arm rest, “We were with you the entire time, except when you told us to meet you in the room.” He sighed, “Then, we went looking for you to take our sister home.”
Harry glared at Reiner, “Why? Why would you need to do that?” He tapped his fingers against his desk impatiently.
Reiner didn’t say anything, just shut his mouth. Diverting his eyes away from Harry. Harry remained quiet, letting silence fill the room. Reiner finally spoke, “I don’t think—“
“You’re not good for, Y/n.” Bertolt quickly spoke, his eyes trained on Harry. “We’re doing what we have to as her brothers. Whether she likes it or not.” The room went silent. Bertolt said it, he really said it.
Harry almost seemed shocked, but didn’t show it. Just kept his straight expression, “Huh. Is that so?” He looked back at the screen, “I’m guessing you’re just like that with everyone. Especially Spider-Man.”
Bertolt’s eyebrows furrowed, while Reiner spoke. “What?” He genuinely seemed confused, why did the vigilante Spider-Man matter in this. Sure, he saved you a few times, but he’s saved countless other lives.
“Yeah, I’ve been running some research, and found out that our Spider-Boy likes hanging out with Y/n.” He tilted his head to the side, “In fact, he was at Y/n’s place when you popped in for a surprise visit. What are the odds?”
Reiner could feel his hands around the armrest tighten, almost in anger. “That thing was near Y/n?” His foot was tapping against the ground impatiently.
Harry’s eyes caught sight of it. He looked back at the monitor, watching as the tape skimmed over the footage. “Yeah. So, I think you have other worries more important than my personal interests in your sister.” His eyes narrowed at the screen, “Remember, if Spider-Man catches me—“
“We know, we don’t need a reminder.” Reiner grit.
Harry smiled to himself, “Good.” However, his smile faded. Nothing. The cameras didn’t catch anything. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, clicking the space on his keyboard, pausing the video. His eyes widened, his jaw going slack.
Nothing was caught by the cameras, except a split second frame from the top floor. And, the frame made Harry laugh, his hands cupping his mouth to suppress it from leaving his throat. “That fucker.” He mumbled, “That motherfucker.”
Reiner and Bertolt looked at each other, almost in disbelief. Not only with Harry’s reaction, but his crude language. Harry turned the computer screen to them, displaying a single frame of the elevator. And, holding onto it with a single strand of webbing, Eren.
Bertolt looked at Reiner, leaning into him and whispering, “Isn’t that the boy from the tent? From Y/n’s informational thing?”
Harry ignored Bertolt, just smugly sat back into his chair. “Looks like we found our spider.” He smiled to himself, “The two of you are excused.” Reiner and Bertolt silently pushed their chairs back, and made their way out of the room. “Oh, and.”
They paused, so Harry continued. “I love your sister, really do.” He hummed slowly, “I think you love her too, along with your mother, right?” Harry felt an intoxicated selfish version of satisfaction fill his body watching Riener’s fist clench. “So, I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her, considering we now know she works at Stark Industries. Oh, along with Spider-Man.”
Bertolt glared at him, turning his head over his shoulder. “What are you trying to imply?”
Harry smiled, “Make sure Spider-Man keeps to himself. In any way possible. That way your sister is safe from—all the tension happening between the… companies. Yeah?” He tapped his finger against his desk. “Wouldn’t want her killed in the cross fire.”
The cold bullet shot through the hearts of Reiner and Bertolt. Making their blood run cold. Bertolt’s bottom lips quivered for a moment, “You said you loved her…”
“I love this company, and want to see it grow—thrive.” He corrected, before his teeth grit. “No matter how much I water the plant that is Y/n’s and I’s relationship, it won’t grow. It’s dead.” He waved them off, “I hope you understand.”
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: Eren’s Comfy Apartment...]ˎˊ
Armin’s eyes skimmed over the news article, an awkward grimace dusting his face. He scrolled down the page, “I guess that informational thing Y/n was doing really was for a reason.” Armin softly said, “Stark Industries is in hot water for not catching the Armored Titan yet.” Only going further down the page revealed more inflammatory statements about the company. Armin just closed the page, going back to his school work. “What do you think of the situation, Eren?”
Eren kept his face pressed into his pillow, his skin hot. He could still feel your body wrapped around his, holding on so tight. A single headphone held in his ear, playing a single song on repeat. Amor Eterno. “I don’t know what to do, I want to tell her. But, it’ll just put her in danger.”
Armin furrowed his eyebrows, annoyed that Eren just ignored his question, but gave his input either way. “I think you’re fine, Eren.” Armin spoke back, his finger tapping against the desk he was sitting at. “Y/n good at keeping secrets, hell, she’s been keeping a big one for her whole college experience.” Which was the short end of the conversation. Your story goes so much deeper.
Eren had told Armin all about you, he didn’t mean too. But, it slipped when he was expressing his happiness about how close the two of you had gotten. Both as Eren, and Spider-Man, okay, maybe not Spider-Man anymore… “That’s not the point, Armin.” Eren mumbled into his pillow, “I thought Spider-Man was the man for Y/n. But, I think she hates him now… because of me.”
Armin rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses to the crown of his head. He thought back to you, recalling your personality. “Eren, I’m pretty sure Y/n is incapable of hate, I think she’s just mad at–”
“She said she wanted to kill me.” Eren’s heart almost broke at the thought.
Armin rolled his eyes, “I doubt it.”
“She thought it, and said it to me.” Eren removed his face from his pillow, looking at Armin. “Even told me I didn’t deserve the suit.”
Armin’s eyes widened, “Damn.” He smiled, “She said that?”
Eren loudly groaned, “Stop smiling, it wasn’t fun to experience.”
“But, it sure is as fun as hell to hear.” Armin shook his head, “Wait, did she say that to you, or Spider-Man?”
Eren blinked a few times, trying to recall. “Spider-Man, no wait–she said that to me.”
“But, you’re Spider-Man.”
Eren felt his eye twitch, “Dude, you’re confusing the fuck outta’ me right now. Stop it.” He shook his head, “Anyways, we’re the same person, so it doesn't matter. What she told Spider-Man, is what she told Eren.” Not really, but close enough.
Armin loudly laughed, nodding his head. Gesturing his hand in a circle, “Fine, okay, okay. Continue.”
Eren shook his head, rolling his eyes, “Okay, back to what I was saying.” Eren sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I put Y/n in direct danger over my identity. And, Eren isn’t enough for–” Eren really needs to stop saying that.
Armin narrowed his eyes, almost with disdain. “Eren, I think you’re more than enough for anybody.” Armin pushed his glasses over his eyes, turning back to his computer. “If Y/n can’t see that, then she isn’t the one for you. Get someone who values you, for you.” Armin leaned his head back, pointing at himself with a smile. “Like me.”
“Fuck off.” Eren looked at the ceiling, whispering, “Karen told me that too.”
“Karen? Who’s Karen?” Armin raised his eyebrows, peering at Eren over his shoulder.
Eren almost flushed with embarrassment, before softly answering. “Suit-lady.” He wrapped himself with a blanket, looking at his phone. Seeing that you texted him, also seeing another person texted him. “I’m just–what happens if I do tell her, we get closer, then the armored titan uses that against me.”
“Eren, you realize you spend a lot of time with Y/n as Spider-Man. Either way, she’ll be targeted.” That thought hit Eren in the heart, pain shooting through his body. “I think your biggest concern should be that Y/n doesn't seem to be interested in relationships.”
Eren raised an eyebrow, “What?”
Armin gave him a look, “Eren, Y/n is hot shit. She knows everybody on campus, has been more than likable since freshman year, and probably has her own fanclub.” Armin swirled around in Eren’s swivel chair, “Yet, has she ever been in a relationship?”
Eren didn’t have the time to respond.
“Exactly. It takes her more than forever to make close friends, it literally took her all four years to become this close to you, as well as her close friends.” Armin cupped his chin, thinking. “So, in what world would she fall for Spider-Man? A faceless hero.” Armin pressed his lips together, “Think about it, she’s never going to get to know him, like she knows you.”
“Well, I–”
“Eren, really think about it.” Armin’s eyes softened, “I know you feel more confident with the mask, but I don’t think realistically Y/n would fall for him. In her eyes, he’s another Hero, and she works with a million of them. If Y/n truly didn’t care, she'd probably already be dating one by now.” Armin sighed, “In fact, she’d probably be dating someone by now.”
Eren sighed, leaning back on the palms of his hands. “I– I hoped she didn’t.”
Armin tapped his fingers against the desk, “If anything, I would think Y/n cares more for Eren than she does Spider-Man.” He smiled, “I mean, she was literally going to kill yo– Spider-Man for leaving you in the building.”
Eren tilted his head, “What does that mean?”
“I think it means,” Armin tossed a pen behind him, letting Eren catch it. Seeing as the tip was perfectly pointed at him. “Eren has way more of a chance of bagging Y/n, than Spider-Man does.”
Eren blinked a few times, “Huh?” He felt his face light up, burning with embarrassment. “Huh?!” He was practically shouting. “Wait, you think Y/n likes me?!”
Armin pressed his finger to his lips, silently trying to quiet his best friend down. He didn’t want the neighbors hearing Eren’s mental breakdown. “I think so. She clearly cares about you. Practically put her life on the line when it came down to it.” You were the one begging to go into Oscorp, and find Eren yourself. “So, yeah, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to consider it.”
Eren was practically beaming, his face tinted in a deep shade of red. Sure, he was more than smart, but he hadn’t considered the possibility of you liking him. It never even crossed his mind. He was too caught up in his own head to consider that possibility.
Armin laughed, cupping his mouth. “You just didn’t think about it, it’s okay.” Armin leaned his cheek on his hand, “This isn’t just about how you feel, Eren. This is also about how Y/n feels, even if you ended up revealing yourself as Spider-Man..” Armin sighed, “What if she doesn't want to be with anyone?...”
That was also a very considerable possibility.
Eren couldn’t help but smile to himself, “Good. If I can’t have her, nobody should.” Eren couldn’t even imagine you with someone else, it physically pained him. “If I ever died, I would want her to think about me for the rest of her life. Or, at least ten years.”
Armin shook his head, sassily rolling his eyes. “That’s not good Eren, if you’re that selfish, just tell her you’re Spider-Man, and enjoy the time of bliss, before it’s ruined by villains.” Armin held back a laugh, “That is, if she even wants to be with your emotional ass.”
Eren glared at Armin, “Armin, I want to. I desperately want to, more than anything in my life. But, I don’t know how’d I deal with–” Eren sighed, sitting up. Placing his hands over his face, “If anything were to ever happen to Y/n, because of me, I’d– I’d just lose myself.” The thought kept Eren up at night.
Armin let his eye wander over Eren’s almost pained expression, he couldn’t help but softly smile. He nodded his head, “I know.” He bit his bottom lip, eyes diverting to the side. “But, what if Y/n sees you the exact same way, what happens then? Are you just going to let her deal with that pain?”
Eren found himself silent, unable to answer.
Armin nodded, “See.” Armin started typing on his computer, “Just sleep on it some more, there’s pros and cons. It’s just a matter of what you want to do, and the situation.” Armin pointed a finger at Eren, stopping the sentence from leaving his mouth. “And, no. Don’t be stupid and try to live two different lives. Like you said, Spider-Man and Eren are the same person.”
“I don’t know, I’ll probably ask Happy about it.” Eren looked to the side, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. His arms wrapped around his body in a self soothing act.
Of course, these things hurt to say. Anything that pained Eren, pained Armin also ten times worse. But, he didn’t want to lie to his best-friend. So, he quickly added, “Also, keep in mind, these are all worse scenario outcomes. Which is most likely not going to happen.” Armin pointed at Eren, “You just like to overthink.”
Eren nodded, “Yeah, you’re right..”
“I’m always right.”
Y/n would say that.
The room fell silent, making Armin peek at Eren over his shoulder. Holding onto a pillow, still holding an expression that pained him. Armin rolled his eyes, but it wasn’t directed at Eren, it was directed at himself. He was such a simp for Eren, “How much do you care about Y/n?”
“More than anything.” Eren’s response was instantaneous, he smiled to himself, “I– Y/n can live without me, but I can’t live without her.” His hands around the pillow tightened, “I’m more than happy with admiring her from afar, that fact she’s so close to me is– I can’t believe it.”
“Then, shouldn’t you start pulling away altogether?” Armin could feel a part of his head scream at him to stop talking, but the words were spilling from his mouth. Unable to stop, “If anything, you’ve had your fun, maybe the best thing to do in this situation is completely avoid it.”
Eren nodded, the room falling silent.
Armin hugged himself, his chest almost aching. Eren’s phone rang, making his eyes drift to the screen. It was another text from you. Armin looked at the small screen, “Are you going to answer it?”
Eren didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes on his phone. Watching as the screen went black again. He bit the inside of his cheek, “I don’t want to–”
“How long?” Armin tilted his head, walking towards the bed, and picking up his phone. Seeing the two texts you sent him. He quickly unlocked it, checking his notifications. He felt a pain in his heart looking at your name on his phone. A plethora of emotions flooding his body.
Longing.
Desire.
Desperation.
Eren wanted to respond, but didn’t have the heart to do it. He was utterly infuriated with you. A part of him wondered if you could ever feel that way about him. Eren sighed, noticing there was another unread text notification, it was from Mikasa.
“Two weeks.” Eren finally informed.
Armin’s eyes widened, his eyes following Eren’s phone, then going back to his face. “You haven't replied in two weeks?!” He sighed, “Oh, Eren…”
“I know, I just… can’t.” Eren looked at his phone, seeing the text message from Mikasa. He quickly replied, then tossed his phone.
Armin tapped Eren’s shoulder, “Eren, the situation you’re in sucks, I know.” Armin stood up, stretching. “How about this, Y/n invited you to her yacht, use that opportunity to finalize your decision.” Armin pressed his lips together, whispering, “Or, hopefully, you’ll have your decision already made by then.”
Eren sighed, standing up with Armin. “Okay.”
Armin hated to admit it, but Eren was his weak spot.
His achilles heel. Armin had looked up to Eren since childhood, and seeing him so hurt damaged Armin in a way only Eren knew how. So, he said, “But, talk to Stark about it, maybe he can give you his two scents. He is dating Pepper while being publicly known as Iron-Man.”
Eren nodded, “Okay.” Despite his weak tone, he sent Mr. Stark a message. One that contained the majority of his doubts. But, I’m reality, it was more of a ‘We need to talk,’ that middle schoolers send their two-week old girlfriends.
Armin wrapped his arm around Eren’s neck, “Stop sulking, it’s sad.” Armin shrugged, “If anything, I bet you Tony isn’t going to care. He’ll probably tell you to follow your dreams, or something.” He pulled him towards the door, his eyes skimming over Eren’s phone forgotten on the bed. “Let’s go get something to eat, It’ll be my treat.”
Eren perked up, “Really?”
“No.”
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: Stark Industries… ]ˎˊ
Eren knew he would talk to Mr. Stark about his problems, but he didn’t think it would be the next day. He got a call and was at the building in less than a few minutes. However, the lobby was empty. Not even Pepper stood at the entrance to greet him.
Then again, it wasn’t too surprising. Stark Industries was under fire for the incident back at the plaza. Since Levi was seen there. Eren was surprised people we just getting mad now.
“Eren, c’mon, let’s go.” Happy’s voice echoed through the empty building, “Tony and Levi have been wanting to ask you some questions.”
Eren could feel his heart beat in his chest. It felt like… you got called to the school’s-office out of nowhere. Anxiety ridding your body as you slowly made your way to the building. Eren shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling them slowly become clammy. “Am I in trouble?”
Happy gestured behind him, silently telling Eren to follow him. “I don’t know. Well, I don’t think so. I think Bambi’s in trouble.” Eren’s anxiety only worsened. Happy made his way in front of the elevator, allowing Eren to enter before himself.
“Bambi?” That’s right, everyone called you Bambi. “What did she do?” Eren tapped his foot quietly against the ground. Looking around in the confined space. A part of him felt uneasy from being inside an elevator.
“I…” Happy looked away, “We’re just worried about her personal life.” He groaned, “Y/n wanted to keep her life private for her own reasons, but now that we know Spider-Man..” Happy glared at Eren, “..Has been pinning over her. We’re worried.”
Eren scratched the back of his head, his cheeks burning. “Why are you worried?…”
“We think Harry—“ Happy cut himself off, shaking his head. He shoved his hands into his pocket, looking straight. “Tony will tell you inside.”
Eren thickly swallowed, looking to the side for a moment. “Mr. Stark?… Did I do something bad?…” Eren leaned on the wall.
Happy pressed his lips together, “Have you replied to Y/n’s text yet?” Happy pressed the floor button, making the elevator door shut. “She was telling me how you haven’t answered her. She’s super pissed about it.”
Eren silently noted how Happy changed the subject. Although, Eren couldn’t help but think, Y/n talks about me? His cheeks darkened in color, his eyes slowly moving to the floor. “Did she?” Eren thickly swallowed.
“Yeah.” Happy narrowed his eyes at him, “Which is weird since you like her?”
Eren blinked a few times, almost taken aback. His eyes snapped to Happy, “How do you know that?”
“Eren, it’s obvious. I'm surprised she hasn’t figured it out by now.” Happy rolled his eyes, but it was playful. “Y/n’s so slow when it comes to romance.”
Eren smiled, “Is she?”
Happy nodded, “Yup. She thought Tony and Pepper were close friends, the two have been married for god knows how long now.” He sighed, a pleasant smile falling on his lips. “Bambi’s not the best when it comes to romance. To be honest, I don’t think she’s ever been in a relationsh—” Happy cut himself off, clearing his throat. “But who knows, you’d need to ask Y/n.”
Eren nodded, recalling back to highschool. Yet, no boy came to mind. Eren can’t remember if you were ever in a relationship. He nodded his head, “I’ll ask her.”
“That’s if you respond to her text.”
Eren cupped his face with embarrassment. “I know, I will.” His voice was slightly muffled by his hands.
“Are you sure she will respond?” Happy smiled, watching the doors open. “She’s been talking non-stop about her new friend, I think he’s coming for your place as her best friend.” Happy’s emphasis on ‘he’ worried Eren, because there was a hidden smile behind his words.
Happy continued to the room where Tony and Levi were in. While Eren followed like a lost puppy behind him. “Tony’s stressed.” Happy voiced, “So, try to be aware of that while talking to him.”
It wasn't long until Eren knew exactly what Happy was talking about. Tony was scattered, his brother sitting comfortably at his desk, watching Tony slowly lose it. Papers were decorating the floor, and a bulletin resting in the middle of the room.
Levi looked at Eren, waving at him politely. Eren cocked his head at Tony a few times, silently asking; What’s wrong with him? Levi shrugged, “I’m waiting for him to calm down before asking questions.”
“I am calm.” Tony sighed, running his hands over his face. “Just… stressed.”
That’s the opposite of calm, but okay, Eren thought. He walked to the desk Levi was sitting at, leaning on the table and tilting his head at Tony. “Over what?” Eren asked.
“Bambi.” Tony’s voice seemed annoyed. “While cleaning up at Oscorp, Levi showed me something that was more than alarming.”
Levi nodded to himself, so that’s what this is about. “I thought you had this figure out already.” He responded.
Tony shook his head, and removed a picture from the billboard, making his way to Eren. “I thought so too, but it gets so much deeper than we originally thought.”
“Is she alright?” Eren asked, his heart speeding up. Shit, he should’ve texted you. If anything happened to you he’d never forgive himself…
Tony shook his head, “No–well, yes. She’s fine, but we don’t know how indefinite that is.” He placed the picture in Eren’s hands face down, patting it a few times. “It’s worse than your weird picture shrine.”
Eren’s face burst in flames, his face turning red. “I–I took that down forever ago..” He shook his head, flipping the paper over. His eyes widened, his jaw falling slack.
“We assume the only way this information could be obtained is by someone Y/n trust.” Tony slowly said, his foot tapping against the ground. “We know Bambi likes to keep this side of her private.” He gestured to the building, “That’s why this makes this so much harder.”
Eren placed the picture face down, his stomach turning. “You mean…”
“Y/n might be doing something behind our back.” Tony said, “Or, someone that she trusts is doing something behind her back.” He placed his hands over his face, “Jesus, that makes this so much more… difficult.”
Eren placed his hand on his arm, rubbing it soothingly. “Makes what so difficult?…”
Tony pressed his lips together, sending a knowing glance at Levi. “We have to put her on suspension until we know for sure what's happening…”
“What?!” Eren almost shouted, “But, we don’t know—“
“We’re doing this for the safety of Stark Industries. Knowing that Oscorp is now—“ Tony paused, thinking for a moment.
Levi pushed himself off the chair, walking to the bulletin board. “We now know Oscorp is trying to actively take Stark Industries down.” He scowled, “We hoped it would never come down to this. And if it did, it wouldn’t be this—aggressive.” He sighed, “Sure, there’s always been tension and fights, but we thought a mutual agreement to let eachother co-exist was fine.”
Eren looked at the bulletin, his eyes skimming over the pictures and letters. “I thought it was playful banter? Not… real?” He smiled weakly, “You know, a marketing tactic. Something for the press to talk about.”
Tony looked at Eren, “You think we’re rivals for the fun of it?” He asked, his eyebrow raising. “Majority of… big fights happen behind closed doors. We make sure the public isn’t aware of what’s happening. And, those are just recently occurring.” Those get ugly.
“Harry is probably the reason behind that...” Eren softly said to himself. So this is what Harry was holding Oscorp back from. “So, what are we going to do?” Eren could hear Happy sigh behind him in pain. That can’t be good.
“We’re going to keep a close eye on her, and completely restrict her access to Stark Industries until everything is settled.” Tony had his eyes closed, “And, it’s best to have…” Tony sighed.
Eren could feel everyone’s eyes on him, and suddenly he wasn’t feeling too good. “What?…”
“We know how you feel about Bambi.” Tony cautiously said, “And, until we settle everything, we need to keep a close eye on Bambi, from afar. As well as limit the things we tell her.” Suddenly, it clicked. The message Eren sent him the day before. Mr. Stark most likely knew what it was about, and was telling Eren his answer. “So, unfortunately, I think you shouldn’t tell Bambi…” He paused, “What you want to tell her.”
Eren pressed his lips together, a pained expression in his face. “So, I should keep my… feelings under wraps?…” He toyed with the collar of his shirt.
Tony shook his head, “I never said that.” You’re too scared to do that in the first place. “I think Spider-Man needs to keep his feelings under wraps. Or, create a safe distance.” Tony pointed sternly at Eren. “Happy’s been keeping me updated about your little friendship with her in the suit.”
Eren sheepishly smiled, “Oh, has he?…”
Tony nodded, “But… Nothing is stopping Eren.”
Eren felt—odd hearing that. Eren was the best friend that admired Y/n from a distance, not the boy who she loved up-close. Then again… Eren would give anything to hear you say that to him. So, maybe he could be a little selfish. “You think so?”
“Know so.” Happy said, before he coughed, “If she forgives you for ignoring her that is.”
“I realize how dumb that is now, Happy.” Eren grit. “Thank you for reminding me.”
Happy winked at him, “Anything for you, kid.”
Levi quickly spoke up, “I think we should just cease ties altogether. I’ve always been against Y/n’s involvement within Stark Industries. This is just another reason why I’m right.” He rubbed his temples, “Yet, here we are.”
Happy rolled his eyes, “Well, this is the current situation we’re in. We can’t sulk about something we can’t change.”
“Not true.” Levi spoke, “It’s not too late to terminate her.”
Tony glared at Levi, “You’re thinking with your heart Levi, stop it.” He adamantly said. That made Eren confused. Mr. Ackerman thinking with his heart? Seemed impossible. “Now, our biggest concern is stopping Oscorp from doing anything brash that could ruin the company, as well as the safety of Bambi. Since she’s clearly the target.”
Eren nodded, that’s most likely why Oscorp stole your sketchbook. “So, you want me to?—“
“We’re going to be the ones to keep an eye on the people surrounding her.” Tony said, “Obviously someone’s a mole in her friend group. We got to figure out who it is. It’s the best bet to get a direct link to Oscorp.” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Even then, we have to decide what our further action with Oscorp is going to be.”
“Well, depending on the severity, we could sue them for defamation, trespassing, and so much more depending on how deep this web of lies goes.” A new voice emerged, making Eren quickly turn on his heel, his flight or fight fully activated. And, he was about to fight.
“Jesus kid, you can’t go fighting everyone who frightens you.” Tony said, walking to the properly dressed male. “Don’t mind him, he’s new to all of this.”
“It’s not Matt I’m worried about, Tony.” Levi said over his shoulder. Happy stifled a laugh. Eren glared at the both of them.
Tony cleared his throat, making everyone avert their attention back to him. “Eren,” Tony started, “This is Matt Murdock, our lawyer.”
Matt lifted his two fingers from his cane, giving a polite greeting to Eren. “Pleased to meet you, Eren.” He cocked his head to Tony, “Heard a few things from Tony.”
Eren smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “All good things I hope.”
“I hoped so, too.” Matt walked forward, ignoring Eren for a moment. “So, all we have on this company is a picture, and a stolen sketchbook?” Matt asked, clearly not amused. By everyone’s silence, he assumed so. “Well, it’s going to take some solid evidence to claim defamation, let alone sue for it. In fact, as of right now, if we did try suing for anything it'd be pointless.”
Happy pressed his lips together, “We know that, we’re not trying to sue as of today. As of right now, we need to confirm Oscorp is working with the Armored Titan, which becomes an illegal matter involving the government, and authorities. If not, we can’t do anything.” He reached into his pocket, his finger clicking a pen inside of it. “We’re not too worried about Oscorp taking Stark Industries down as a company, we’re more worried about the technology they’ve been developing and how they plan to use it against us.” Happy gestured to the people in the room, as well as your picture on the billboard.
“We’ll worry about what they actually want to do to the company later. We need to focus on what they’re going to do with Y/n, and the technology she designed. Which they basically have the blue prints for.” Levi rubbed his eyes with frustration, “God, the things in her sketchbook were government weapons, shit the public were never going to know about, more or less a company who wants to genuinely harm people with it. As shown with the second Green Bombing Incident.” Levi gestured to the bomb they ceased from Spider-Man not too long.
“Makes sense.” Matt replied, tapping the bottom of his jaw in thought. “But, that still doesn't change their end goal. We’re still the target of it, and we can avoid it if we find out who is related to the Armored Titan.” He turned his head over his shoulder, “And, you better pray those two incidents are related, because then we’d have two very big problems on our hands.” The idea of having to deal with two different individuals with ill intent would be… terrifying.
Eren tilted his head, “But isn’t that a given? We literally found Y/n’s sketchbook inside Oscorp. Isn’t that enough proof?” Eren tried to reason.
Matt shook his head, “No. Any half-decent lawyer can just say…” He thought for a moment, “Your Honor, my client and Stark’s witness have had relations outside of their work, of which could reasonably infer any misplacement of items belonging to either side being merely an accident.” Matt tapped his cane a few times, “And you better pray that girl doesn’t have anything that belongs to Harry. It would only prove their point right.”
“Y/n wouldn’t be that careless, especially about her sketchbook.” Eren argued, which he soon found to be pointless. It was a lawyer he was arguing with of all people. A really good one at that.
Matt smiled, “Believe me, I know that. I don’t doubt that for a second.” He reassured, “But, it isn’t what I think, it’s what the judge thinks, and messy college relationships isn’t something they like to hear about.”
Eren nodded, silently sighing to himself, “Right.”
“We need solid evidence, and names if we want to do anything. More or less want to protect ourselves if Oscorp is trying to do something. Which is extremely plausible with what Eren has told us.” Matt finished. The words, protecting you from Oscorp, bouncing in his head. That could never be a good thing, and could infer the company is really trying to do something… extreme. If only Eren caught Harry saying it on camera, or voice recording. That would make this so much easier.
“Until then,” Levi said, grabbing a piece of paper and handing it to Eren. “We need you to narrow down the list of people for us. We know about the little vacation Y/n’s going on, and how she’s only inviting her close friends. Perfect time for you to do this.” Levi took the picture from earlier in return. “See if any of those friends happen to be the mole.”
Eren looked at the list, his eyes narrowing in distaste. His eyes skimming over the names, “Armin? You put my best friend on this list?”
“You never know.” Levi responded. “We just need confirmation it is one-hundred percent none of these people. And, if you find out it’s someone, tell us immediately, and gather evidence.”
Eren noticed, written in red, was your brothers. He furrowed his eyebrows, “You put her brothers here? You’re just being paranoid now.” He shook his head, “I can’t even imagine how Y/n would feel if she saw this list.”
Levi shook his head, “Eren, I’m going to be honest with you. We’re doing this for her safety. She may not like it, but it’s what we have to do.” He sighed,
Eren tucked the paper in his pocket. “Fine.” His eyes watched as Levi put the picture back on the billboard, his stomach slowly spiraling in a deep pit.
On that piece of paper, was a tree of information, people, schools, and connections that were in any way related to you. A picture of you resting in the middle of all the vines of information. All found and documented from inside Harry’s office.
ˋˏ★ [ Location: Your Comfy Apartment...]ˎˊ
You jumped on your bed, hands holding your friends while he jumped with you. “This isn’t helping.” You softly voiced, your pigtails jumping up and down dramatically. “I mean, I sounded like I would when you suggested it in class, but I feel sad.”
He nodded, “Yeah, me too.” The two of you stopped jumping, falling down on your bed. His black hair fluffed up from jumping, you laughed, quickly fixing his, very short, pigtails. He smiled from your touch, “I mean, it was fun for like—ten minutes.”
You laughed nodding your head, “Yeah, I agree.” You looked to the side, thinking, “What was the other thing you suggested?” You played with the sleeves of your shirt, pulling it over your palms.
“Spa day?” He responded.
You loudly sighed, leaning into his arms, a pout on your lips. “But that’s something I want to do with Eren…” He laughed against your hair, letting you dramatically complain. “Ugh, I can’t believe he’s ignoring me.” You cried, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“He’s not ignoring you.” He cooed, tapping your back comfortingly. “He’s just—confused?…” he shrugged, “Honestly, I don't know, boys are really confusing. We do stupid shit without reason.” He pulled on the pink hair-ties holding up your pigtails, then removed his own.
You nodded in agreement, “I know, have you met Connie?” You rolled your eyes, looking up at him. “He’s the embodiment of a middle schooler who moans in the back of the class, and thinks he’s so fucking funny.”
He laughed, running his hands through your hair. Fixing the almost messy look to them, “It’s kinda’ funny.”
“Marco.” You deadpanned.
Marco was the boy you met during lunch while he was working at Panda Express. A man who loved writing, and poetry. Along with many other typical things, it annoyed you how perfect he was. You had met him a long while ago, back when you were in highschool. When your dad held a party for his friends. Sure, you didn’t know it was Marco at the time, but it was a fun discovery in college. Also that Marco was just as, if not more, rich as you.
Which was ironic considering he was the worker serving you at Panda Express. But, he was perfect nonetheless. The two of you clicked just as you did at the party. It almost threw you off, everybody you knew ended up coming full circle in your life.
Marco smiled, pushing his messy bangs from his eyes. “Y/n.” He replied in a similar fashion, smiling kindly. It was a small thing the two of you did. Before his eyebrows furrowed, “Is Eren your best friend?”
You nodded, “I thought it was obvious.”
Marco nodded, his lips pressed together trying to hide his amused expression. “And, you like Eren, right?”
You nodded again, “Again, I thought that was obvious.”
“So, you like him?” Marco asked.
You paused for a second, “Wait, do you think I like–like Eren?” You pulled yourself away from him, sliding your hands from his arms. Marco nodded. “Hm, that’s weird. Jean said the same thing.”
Marco nodded, “Makes sense. It kinda’ seems that way.” He titled his head to the side, “I mean, what’s stopping you from thinking that?” You tilted your head, and Marco continued, trying to clarify his sentence. “Like… Why are you calling him your best friend? What’s stopping you from saying you like him?” You didn’t say anything. “It’s not a trick question, it's genuine. Why is he just your best friend?”
You bit your bottom lip, “Uhm, I don’t know?… What am I supposed to say?”
Marco sighed, “Okay, uhm… Oh! Why do you see Jean as just a best friend?”
You smiled, “Jean’s sweet, just not for me. He has his own things going on, and I want to support him as a friend, not a lover. Just never imagined myself being with—more or less marrying him.” You tapped your fingers against the bed, “He’s too much for me, not someone I want to be with. But, I love him as my best friend.”
Marco nodded, “Okay, then why are you just friends with Connie.”
You rolled your eyes, “Ugh, Connie. Love him to death but sometimes he drives me there. If I ever kill myself, his name is one hundred percent in my suicide note.” You laughed, “If anything, I hope he gets with a big-booty latina. That’s his dream girl.”
“How do you know—“
“He’s told me.” You placed your hand on Marco’s shoulder, “Multiple times.”
Marco laughed, “Fair. Uhm… What about me?” He nodded his head.
Your eyes softened, “I adore you Marco, but I wouldn’t want to date someone I just met. And, I love our friendship the way it is.” You coughed, adding a quick, “Plus you’re gay.”
Marco glared at you, “Ignoring that.” He gritted, “Then, why are you just friends with Eren?”
You parted your lips, “Uhm. Eren’s—he’s great, but…” You sighed, “But, I just see him as a good friend…”
Marco gave you a look, “Y/n, I don’t even think you’re convinced about that.” He laughed, “I know I’m not.”
You laughed, “Yeah, but… I don’t know. It’s weird.”
Marco tilted his head, “Do you want me to be honest with you?” You slowly nodded. Marco smiled, “I think naming Eren as your “best friend,” is wrong. You’re just confusing yourself.”
You laughed, playing with a strand of your hair. “Imagine how I feel.” You sighed, blinking a few times, “Crushes are supposed to be fun, but this is–this is just confusing.” You grabbed the bottom of Marco’s shirt, “Maybe I’m just hurt he’s ignoring me.”
“Eren isn’t ignoring you, Y/n.” Marco repeated, but he patted your back comfortingly.
“He’s probably talking to that hot girl, Mikasa, or whatever..” You mumbled.
Marco laughed, shaking his head. “But hey, if it really bothers you, just talk to him on your yacht and clear things up. Maybe, it’ll even help you sort your feelings out.” He pulled your hair together, using one of the previous hair ties to keep your hair back.
You pouted, looking at him with your wide eyes. “Maybe..” In fact, you didn’t even know if Eren was still going. Since his dumbass had yet to respond to any of your messages or calls. A part of your heart stung thinking about it. “I think I like him..”
“As a friend?” Marco asked.
You shook your head.
“As a lover?” Marco followed.
You hesitated, but ultimately shook your head.
Marco tapped his knee a few times, “Have ever you wanted to be in a relationship since joining college?”
You shook your head, “No. I–I think that…” You pressed your lips together, “Every guy that I talk to, it feels like they… like the idea of me.” You ran your hands over your face, “It’s so confusing–I’m so confused.” You were visibly getting frustrated, your hands tightly holding onto the sheets of your bed.
“And that’s okay, you have all the time in the world to figure out your emotions, and thoughts.” Still, Marco wanted to know what was holding you back from admitting what is so obvious. “Uhm, when was the last time you were in a relationship?”
You turned away embarrassed, “I’ve never…” You mumbled the rest, but Marco already knew your answer. He didn’t need to hear it.
“Okay, when was the last time you liked someone?”
You immediately looked uncomfortable, memories from high school popping in your head. “Like, four years ago. Back in high school.” Your arms subconsciously wrapped themselves around you.
Shit, I completely forgot about that. Marco hid the grimace he wanted to make, “Right.” He tapped his hand against your bed a few times, “Uhm, Y/n, have you ever thought that maybe?… Porco almost traumatized you about crushes. Or, maybe how people reacted to it.”
You tilted your head to the side, “But, I never even dated Porco?” You laughed, but it seemed forced. “I can’t be traumatized over someone who I didn’t even interact with. And, Annie was young and dumb, I don’t care.”
“Yeah, but that was four years ago, and you still remember her name.” Marco gave you a half-smile, “Or when you get hurt when hearing people talk about loved ones.” Marco looked to the side, “Or, when you see old people alone.”
You felt a tear building in your waterline, “It’s heartbreaking.”
Marco laughed, “Exactly, but you never dated them. But, you can still be hurt by the situation.” He shrugged, “And, I think the first time you spoke to your crush, with the situation that happened, mentally killed the idea of any others.” He put his hands up, “And, you never really—experienced boys, or relationships in high school.” And you had your father as a horrible figure in your life, which could be a part to play.
You forced a weak smile, your eyes falling to the side. “Yeah…” You shrugged, “I don’t know. I never thought about it like that.” Sure, you’ve hooked up with people, but the thought of it going any further gave you goosebumps. You chewed on your bottom lip in discomfort.
Marco looked to the side, sure this was an embarrassing topic for him, but he needed to change it for your sake. He didn’t like seeing you so–confused, and pained. He averted his eyes from you before softly saying, “You were talking to Jean?...” His hands fidgeted together.
You tilted your head, confused on why that caught his attention. “I mean, yeah? He is like my best friend.” You slowly said, “Why?” You pulled your hands into your lap, playing with the bottom of your shorts.
Marco blinked a few times, “Uhm, I–I don’t think he likes me.” He softly said, his cheeks tinted pink. “In fact, I think he hates me.” There was an awkward laugh following his sentence.
You had to suppress the smile building on your lips. You turned your face away, laughing into your shoulder. You couldn’t help but think of Eren and Jean’s feelings about him. “I don’t think he hates you.” You reassured, “But, I—he’s never brought you up, so I wouldn’t know.” You whispered, your voice cracking with laughter.
“It’s not funny.” Marco said, pushing you playfully. “But, he doesn’t talk about me?” He tapped his fingers, “Weird.”
You tilted your head confused, “Why is it weird? I thought you said–”
“He talks to me everyday, I thought he would’ve at least mentioned me.” Marco softly said, swinging his feet off your bed. “I mean, we were texting non-stop when he was with you one time.”
You tilted your head, “Really?” You pushed yourself off your bed, walking towards your desk. “Do you remember when that happened?”
Marco looked at the roof, clearly in thought. “Uhm… if I remember correctly..” He tapped his bottom lip, before his eye lit up with realization. “Oh! It was when you were doing this informational thing. It was the day of your party.”
Your jaw dropped, “That was you?! He was smiling at his phone, because of you?!” You could feel your eyebrows mush, a smile spreading across your lips. “Wait, are you two sleeping together?!”
Marco’s face burst out in flames, while his hands frantically shook back and forth. “I’m sorry?!” He shouted, “What are you talkin—no! We’re not sleeping together!”
You smiled, leaning into him. “But you wish you were..” You sang playfully.
“I think he’s cute, but that’s all.”
You gave Marco a knowing look, before walking out of your room into your kitchen. “Sure, if you say so.”
“I mean it!” Marco followed behind you, throwing a stuffed animal at your face. Only to jump at the sound of… Scratching? Maybe, even tapping? He pulled his head to look back at your room, noticing the sound was coming from your window. But, we’re four stories up? How is that possible?
You turned over your shoulder, peering at Marco. “What’s wrong?” You smiled, walking backwards to talk to him. “You know I’m joking, babe.” You stopped, tilting your head to the side. Seeing that his attention was completely captured by something in your room. “Wait, what’s wrong?..”
Marco looked back at you, tearing his attention from your window. “Y/n I think there’s something at your window.” He walked back into your room, still speaking. “Is it Luna? Or, Daisy?”
You felt your heart drop, Spider-Man flashing across your mind. You quickly walked after Marco, grabbing the back of his shirt in an attempt to stop him. “No, it’s probably the bird who keeps coming by. Don’t worry about it.” You tried reassuring, but it didn’t seem to work.
Marco smiled, pulling away from your touch, his hand on your curtain. “Don’t worry, if it keeps coming by there’s probably a nest nearby. We don’t want that planted right on your window.” The sound erupted again, making Marco laugh. “See, the poor thing probably wants our help.”
You shook your head, “Even more reason not to check it, we could scare the poor thing… away…” Marco was glaring at you, giving you a look that made you feel stupid. He shook his head, pulling back the curtain. You almost tackled him, but decided that would most likely make the situation worse.
Marco laughed, opening the window, popping his head out. “Hey, what are you doing up here?” He cooed, reaching his hand out.
You internally cringed, you mind racing with excuses. “Marco, look..” You slowly started, “Remember, how I said I work with Stark?”
“Yeah?…” Marco brought his head back into the room, his hands gently holding two cats. A hairless one, and a back one. He tilted his head while raising an eyebrow at you, “It’s just your cats, I don’t know why you’re so freaked out.”
You blinked a few times. Crap, you completely forgot they found a way to climb up to your room.
You awkwardly laughed, slowly nodding your head. Walking to your bed and peeking out the window. Looking around, “Right, it’s just my… cats.” You shook your head. That’s right, Spider-Man and I are on no speaking terms. Your heart stung for a moment, but it didn’t linger.
Sure you adored Spider-Man, cherished the short friendship you had, but you weren’t necessarily deathly-attached to him. And with the most recent incident of Oscorp, it cleared the question of; Eren, or Spider-Man. Your answer, dramatically, not being Spider-Man.
Then again, if Spider-Man were to come visit you, and ask to revisit the screaming match between the two of you, mostly you, you’d accept. Have a more civilized conversation about what happened, and mend the distance you placed between the two of you. The worst part being, you felt guilty… Spider-Man was just doing what he was told, and you took your anger, fear, and confusion out on him.
Marco tilted his head, looking back at you. “But, what about Stark?...” His eyes scanned up and down your face, seeing as your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Maybe even a hidden pain, “Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to see your cats.” Marco lifted the fluffy animals into the air for a moment.
You weakly laughed, sitting down on your bed and petting Daisy. “Yeah, they’re fine.” You let yourself fall back into your sheets, “I’m just…” You sighed, “I’m so stressed about everything happening.” You looked at Marco, “I’m scared I ruined an amazing friendship, and I’m scared Eren’s ignoring me.” Or worse, giving all his attention to that hot Mikasa girl.
Marco smiled at you, it was comforting. “I know.” He leaned down, holding his head up with his hand. “Shit, Y/n, you really do need this vacation.” Marco cheekily smiled, poking your side, and whispering. “With Eren.”
You playfully punched him, “Shut up.” You smiled, leaning into Marco. “I’m joking, but I do like the idea of that.” You poked his shoulder, then cheek. Your eyes caught by the mirage of freckles decorating his face.
Marco laughed, his eyes following your hand. “I know, but—“ Marco paused mid sentence, a plastic bag hitting his face. You burst out in a cackle, pointing and laughing at him. Marco groaned, peeling the bag from his face. “Gross…”
You pulled away from him, looking back out your window. Still laughing, “I can’t believe that just happened.” You mumbled, “I swear, you’re so unlucky.” You took the bag from him, pushing yourself off your bed and throwing it in the small trash located under your desk. “Here, let me grab some food for the cats, wait here.” You quickly ran off, almost slipping once you turned the corner of your door.
Marco just laughed. Before his eyes looked outside, hardening almost instantly. He twisted on his stomach, feeling your two cats jump on his back while he looked out your window again. He could’ve sworn…
“Got it!” You shouted, walking back into the room and opening the can of cat food. Making your two cats jump off his back and onto the floor, feverishly diving for the food. You laughed with amusement.
“Hey, Y/n?” You looked at Marco, nodding your head. “Are you frien–” He shook his head, “Are you driving me?”
You tilted your head, making your way to the bed and falling on top of Marco’s back. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face between his shoulder blades. “Yeah, I think so? Do you mean like, back to your house? Or, to my–”
“Yeah, both.” Marco nodded.
You laughed, your chest bouncing up and down on his back. “I drive you everywhere Marco, I like being your chauffeur.” You paused, looking up for a second. “Just not right now, I’d much rather walk you with the traffic.”
Marco smiled, dropping his face into your sheets and laughing.
Your cats jumped on your bed, rubbing against your shoulders. You and Marco watched as they made their way outside your window, climbing further up the fire escape. You smiled against his shoulder, “I swear, they’re just using me for food.”
Marco shook his head, “I don’t think so, they probably love you more than anything.” Marco shrugged, “Then again, they are cats, so I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Daisy and Luna jumped up the stairs of the fire escape, twisting around narrow ledges and thin steps. Jumping up windows, before they reached the roof. Meowing loudly, and purring at the person standing there. Daisy ran her body against his leg, looking up at him and meowing. However, his attention was caught by something else.
Eren was going to kill that guy. Marco, or whatever the hell his name was, he didn’t care.
Okay, Eren wasn’t going to kill him, but he certainly wanted to.
Fine, he didn’t want to kill him, but he was definitely jealous, maybe internally crying. But, that should be him. So, Eren will settle for throwing plastic bags in his face, and any other garbage floating around New York. Which was… a lot.
Karen slowly started, “Eren, I respect the initial idea of speaking to Y/n, and apologizing. But, I don’t think this counts–”
“I–I agree, don’t worry.” Eren said, cutting off Karen. “This is really a bad habit I need to break, but…” He sighed, falling back onto the roof, looking at the sky. “I don’t know…”
“Why don’t you text her.” Karen spoke, “It can be something simple. For example, confirming your involvement in the trip she’s hosting for her friends.”
Eren popped his head up, almost comically. “That’s a great idea!” Karen sighed. Eren clicked the side of his eye, making a list of contacts appear in his eyesight. He clicked your name, cringing internally seeing the array of unresponded messages. He sent you a message of confirmation.
Eren nodded to himself.
“Happy with yourself?” Karen asked.
“Yeah.” The area filled with comfortable silence, before Eren’s ears perked to the sound of–screaming?
“Marco! Oh my god! He finally texted me!”
Eren’s heart fluttered in his chest, both of his hands cupping his face. His face burned in a dark shade of red. Goddamn it. Thank god for the mask.
“Better start packing for your vacation trip with Y/n, Eren.”
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: Passenger Seat of Happy’s Car...]ˎˊ
You looked out the window, hues of cool colors decorating the sky while the sun was close to setting. Wispy clouds filling your vision like an old renaissance painting, it was gorgeous. Your window was rolled down, letting the warm air in. It was finally getting to the time of year, which also meant graduation was getting closer.
You tapped the screen of your phone, chewing on your fake nails with anxiousness. Your foot tapping against the ground quickly, “Are sure Eren is driving there? He didn’t want us to pick him up?” You asked Happy, turning your body to look at him.
“Yes, I spoke to him.” Happy responded, for the tenth time. You seriously killed him sometimes. “He’s driving here with his friends.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened for a second.
You didn’t notice, “Really? I don’t remember him ever mentioning he had a car.” You bit the skin off your bottom lip, “Are you sure, I mean–why would you have a car in New York? What are going to do with it? It’s not like you can drive anywhere–”
Connie’s hands grabbed your shoulders from the backseat. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Y/n.” He shook them gently. Sasha on the other hand was stuffing her face with food, “Yeah, exactly.” She blinked a few times.
You sheepishly smiled, nodding slowly. Happy sighed with relief, Connie saved him from bashing his head into the steering wheel. Sasha shoved another chip in her mouth, “By the way,” she chewed loudly, “Why is Happy, the best friend of Tony Stark, driving us to your yacht?”
You laughed, shrugging. “Connections.” You slowly said, “I know a lot of people.” My dad knows a lot of people, would be the more correct statement. But, you know, fuck that dude.
Connie turned to Sasha, smiling and whispering, “Rich people problems.” Sasha laughed, popping a chip in Connie’s mouth. “Couldn’t be me.” She replied.
You rolled your eyes, looking out the window. Watching the other cars and trees pass by. It took forever to get to your yacht, and you still had to pick up one more person. Well—technically, Happy had to pick up one more person. And it wasn’t long until he was sitting in the car, singing his heart out with Sasha and Connie in the back.
You tapped your thigh rhythmically, a habit you developed recently. The soft sound of skin hitting skin comforting you in an odd way. Although, it was slightly muffled by your short, lacy, white gloves.
Happy looked at you, placing his free hand on your head. “Loosen up, Bambi.” He tapped your head a few times, “Talk to him, that’s all you need to do.”
You smiled, “Yeah, I know.”
Arriving at the dock was a vivid experience of memories. All from old family vacations and trips. Some included business affairs, in which you would be forced to become buddy-buddy with your father’s friends. You felt… uncanny, uncomfortable, even. A cold shiver going down your spine as a pit in your stomach grew.
Was it the yacht? Was it the memories you have associated with the yacht? Maybe. You honestly didn’t expect to feel this way. You thought this would be a fun adventure with your friends, not a trauma relapse about your shitty parents… Just ignore it.
“Alright,” Happy said, parking the car, and effectively snapping you out of your head. “You kids stay safe, and have fun.” He smiled at you, “Don’t get eaten by a shark.”
You flashed him a smile, but ultimately nodded. “Can’t mark any promises.” You waved him off, feeling a hand crawl around your shoulders. Pulling you into their body.
“Ready for sexy tan lines, and wet water?” Connie said, pulling you to walk along the deck with him. Not only because he wanted to talk to you, but also because he had no clue which yacht was yours. “Because, I fuckin’ am.” He lifted his glasses to the crown of his head.
You laughed, following him mindlessly. “Of course, I’ll even let you use my bikini if you really want.” You playfully winked at him, grabbing the Hawaiian button up he was wearing.
“Fuck, yeah.” Connie shook his hips, bumping into you a few times. “Clutch your pearls, Y/n. I’m going to be the sexist one on that boat.” Sasha twisted her body around, walking backward while she spoke. “Like hell, have you seen this body?” She dramatically gestured her hand down her torso.
“I’ve been hitting the gym…” Marco slowly started, but stopped his sentence. Then, he corrected it, “I got a gym membership, so, I suggest hiding your children. I got the power of, ‘I’ll go at some point,’ by my side.”
Everyone broke out in laughter, while you placed your hand on your chest. “No, literally me.”
Connie looked around, scooting closer to you. “But… which one’s yours?” His eyes danced over all the white water-vehicles, and brand names. Jesus, did one of them say Gucci?!
You walked down the dock of expensive boats, your eyes skimming the area. “Once you see it, you’ll know.” You replied, “Honestly, that’s how I remember it sometimes… Or, I think it’s because my last name is on it.” Your voice wavered, a familiar face catching your attention. You smiled, tearing away from Connie. “Mr. Nile!” You shouted, engulfing him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you! Haven’t seen you since the divo–”
“Jesus kid, learn what and what not to say.” Nile spoke, pushing your sun hat over your face and effectively cutting off your sentence. “I don’t need to be reminded of that mess.”
You bashfully smiled, “Yeah, sorry. Just excited.”
Nile smiled at you, his hands on your shoulders. “You’ve grown kid, you look gorgeous.”
You smiled, pulling back and twirling around. “Thank you! I got it hand made by someone back in California.” You said, “I thought it would be perfect for the occasion.” You were wearing a one-piece, white, short sleeved, sailor dress. The ends of the dress pleating out to frame your body. Along with some nice black flats, decorated with lacy socks to match with your gloves.
“I was talking about you, but the dress is nice.” Nile tapped your shoulder a few times, “Your brothers too, they’ve been hitting the gym.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused smile splitting your lips. “My brothers? You’ve seen them recently?” You peaked over his shoulder, “Were they at the yacht before us?” Is that why it was a mess?
Nile gave you a confused look, but he was distracted by the people behind you. He pointed at them, “What’s with them?”
You looked over your shoulder, seeing your friends utterly shell-shocked. Well, except for Marco. You blinked a few times, confused. “What?” You looked back to your yacht, “I mean, I didn’t clean it, so ignore the mess.”
Sasha cupped her face, “I love her, but she’s so out of touch with reality.” Sasha pointed at your massive yacht, “No, we’re looking at how big this thing is.”
Oh, that’s why. Marco wasn’t fazed, because you’re pretty sure his father owned a cruise ship.
You placed your hand on your chin in thought, “Honestly, I remember it being bigger.” You shrugged, “Maybe it’s because I was a child last time I was on this thing… Or, maybe it’s time to get a bigger one.” Anything to make my father’s pockets hurt. This boat wasn’t even bought by your father, it was part of a contract he signed with a company he worked with. You couldn’t remember the price of the yacht off the top of your head, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it hit nine digits. Your father had always been one hell of a bargainer, and you couldn’t imagine him not putting up a fight if wads of money weren't directly involved.
Connie pouted his lips, looking to the side, before whispering, “…That’s what she said.”
Marco laughed, turning away. You gave him a rude, but knowing glare. He tried stifling his laugh. “Ignore my friends.” You told Nile, before you shook your head, pointing at all of them. “Sorry, everyone, this is Nile Dok, he’s our personal helmsman. I’ll introduce you to our personal chef, Niccolo, later.” You waved your hand dismissively.
“You have a personal chef?” Sasha almost shouted, she smiled to herself, grabbing the back of her sun hat. “Oh my god, if this is heaven, I hope I stay dead forever.”
Marco furrowed his eyebrows, “That’s kinda’ how it works?…”
Nile smiled, turning on his heel. Heading off into his room, “I’m sailing off in a few hours, better have everyone on board.” You politely waved goodbye.
Connie nodded a few times, “He’s cool.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “C’mon, I’ll show you around when everyone gets here.” You waved for them to follow you, taking a step on the obsidian-black boat. A choice your mother made when first shopping. You tossed your shoes off, walking on the deck, and up the small flight of stairs. A cold shiver went down your spine, the pit in your stomach growing. Maybe you did have some suppressed trauma from this stupid boat. “Here, we’ll just stay in the outside lounge until everyone arriv–”
“I thought you said you were going to get the boat deep cleaned before she got—“ The three of you made eye contact, and your face contorted into one of pure hatred.
You’ve got to be fucking me right now, you thought. “What the hell are you two doing here?” You placed your hands on your hips, your friends standing behind you. You could feel the smile on Sasha’s lips.
“We were just…” Reiner sighed, placing his hand on his neck, scratching it awkwardly. “We’re coming with you..”
“The fuck you’re not!” You shouted.
Connie looked at Sasha, and Sasha looked at Connie. Sasha cupped her mouth, and whispered, “She did it again.” Connie laughed, leaning into Sasha and whispering, “She’s growing so fast, I feel like a daddy.” Connie lifted his eyebrows suggestively, but it just looked like he was surprised. Sasha shoved him into the water.
You shoved your brother back, but he didn’t budge. “Seriously, the one weekend I want to use the yacht you have to be here.” You scoffed, “I swear, you’re the worst. Literally, leave.” You said, genuinely annoyed.
“We have to stay…” Bertolt softly said.
“Sit your quiet ass down, Bertolt. You don’t have a single word in this conversation.” You seethed, pointing at him. “You wanted to stay quiet when we’re kids, now stand by that.” You looked back at Reiner, “You, fuck off. This isn’t fair to me.”
“Did you even ask dad if you could use the yacht?“ Reiner spoke, hands on his hips.
“I asked Mr. Dok.” You pushed him again. You parted your legs, positioning yourself in a way to use more force. “Don’t make me push you off.”
“Like hell.” Reiner responded. “Besides, if dad finds out you were on the boat without his permission, he’ll sue you for trespassing.” He smiled, “You need us here.”
You hated how he was right. You let out a loud groan, pulling your hands back and grabbing your hat, “Fine, but I don’t want to see your dumbass anywhere near my friends.” You seethed, “Okay?”
Reiner didn’t respond, and Marco placed his hands on your shoulders. “C’mon Y/n, don’t let it get to you.” He smiled, wiggling your shoulders softly. He leaned in, whisperering, “And maybe, this can be a healthy way to slowly rebuild your relationship.”
You looked back at Marco, softly sighing. Your brows furrowed with anger, but ultimately, they relaxed. You blinked a few times, “You think so?”
Marco nodded, “Mhm.” He squeezed your shoulders reassuringly, “Just cool off before anything, it’s okay to be mad.” He whispered.
You just nodded, taking a few deep breaths.
“That’s all the luggages.” Happy said, propping your vintage suitcase up. An array of men behind him with all your friend’s belongings. “Do you think anything is missing?” Happy asked.
You shook your head, looking at your friends and seeing they also shook their heads. “Nope, looks good.” You gestured for him, and his friends, to place everything on the boat. You glanced back over the boat, looking at the sun. Seeing as it was finally setting over the horizon, you looked around. Where’s everybody else?
And, as if the god’s heard you themselves, a distinct voice popped from the dock. “That’s right, the best thing that ever happened to you guys is here.” Jean said, putting his hand in the air.
Connie looked at Jean, his eyebrows raising suspiciously. “Wait, since when were you guys chill again?” Connie narrowed his eyes, “Or, do we have a stowaway?…”
You turned over your shoulder, laughing. “Like a week ago, Connie. And, Jean was invited.”
Connie raised his eyebrows, “Hm. That was quick.” Sasha nodded, tapped Connie’s shoulder with her own, “That’s what I thought. But hey, that makes this vacation more fun.”
Jean pinched the top of his shirt, pulling it gently while smiling. “Hold onto your panties ladies, don’t need to drop them just… yet…” Jean’s eyebrows visibly furrowed, his expression displaying one of utter confusion.
You smiled widely, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to suppress it and utter excitement. Your eyes snapped to what could possibly catch Jean’s attention so intimately.
Marco.
Marco looked Jean up and down, a smile building on his lips. He titled his head to the side, lifting his hand ever so slightly and waved. His lips mouthing, “Hi, Jean.” Marco smiled, his dimples denting into his skin perfectly.
Jean’s lips twitched, before he ultimately smiled, waving weakly. “Hi.”
Connie looked at Sasha and raised his eyebrows, an amused smile building on his lips. Connie grabbed your hand, pulling you between himself and Sasha. “My gaydar is going off right now, and I can’t tell if it’s from Marco or Jean.” Sasha nodded frantically.
“Jean?” You whispered dramatically, feigning shock or disbelief. “I doubt that, last time I checked he said he wanted to marry me.” You replied.
Sasha shook her head, “Everyone wants to marry you, Y/n. But, that,” Sasha pointed at Jean, “That is a look of a gay man, down bad.”
“You guys are overthinking.” You softly replied, but you didn’t disagree. And, knowing how Marco felt about Jean, you wondered if his feelings were reciprocated. Did Jean think Marco was cute?
Connie jumped forward, grabbing his Spider-Man backpack. “Since everyone’s here, I think I should explain the game plan.” Sasha looked at Connie, “I thought I told you not to bring drugs?” Connie shook his head, “I didn’t.”
Jean raised his head, throwing his bags on the ground. “I did.”
Sasha threw her arms in the air dramatically, “There goes your streak, Connie.”
Marco waved his hand dismissively, “It doesn't count if it’s weed.” Jean softly laughed, his eyes flickering to Marco for a brief moment.
Connie pointed his finger, a smile on his lips. “See. I like this guy, he knows what’s up.” He opened the bag, grabbing one of the items inside. “But, to get this party started.” He lifted one of the cans, shaking it. The rattle inside loudly hitting the sides of the can.
You pressed your lips together anxiously, looking at the time on your phone. You tapped your foot anxiously, looking back at the sky. “Give it a moment, we still have a few more people coming.”
Connie tossed the can back into the bag, “Jesus, how many people are going to be on this damn boat.”
“Just two more.” You replied, looking around. You sighed, slowly whispering, “It’s getting late.” You looked back at Happy, “Are you sure he’s driving–”
“Yes.” Happy replied swiftly, “We’ll see you when you get back.” He flashed you a smile, but it seemed… fake? Almost… pained, in a way.
You awkwardly smiled, nodding your head. “I’ll see you, too.” You waved, “Don’t miss me too much.”
Happy nodded, but didn’t smile. “I won’t.” And, he walked off. Happy’s response made you feel off. It almost seemed as if he was lying. You were probably imagining it.
Jean tapped the boat’s butt a few times, “Where’s Yeager? I thought you invited him?” He tilted his head, slowly taking you into a hug. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
You nodded, “Thanks Jean, and yeah. I thought I did.” You felt that anxiety swell in your stomach, where is he? “Maybe he’s not coming?” A part of your heart squeezed in pain as you pulled away from Jean. “How about Marco and I wait out here for them, and you guys wait in the lounge.”
Sasha tilted her head, “You sure? We can wait out with you?”
Jean grabbed some bags, handing them to Sasha and Connie. “How about we start taking things inside? You and Marco can just wait around for Eren.” He playfully winked at you. You smiled, nodding your head.
Still, you turned your head to the dock. Your hands moving to your forearms and scratching them lightly. “Where is he?”
Marco walked in front of you, his hands wrapping around yours, his pretty face smiling at you. “Y/n, it’s okay, he’s coming.” He gave you a reassuring squeeze, “Believe me.” Your eyes softened, and you quickly squeezed his hands back.
“Okay.” You tried to smile back, but didn’t have the energy to do it. It was silent for a moment, until you were bursting with questions again. “What if he doesn't talk to me? What if it’s like really awkward?”
Marco gave you a look, “Stop worrying. You’re just going to sike yourself out.”
“Y/n?”
You turned your head, all the worries swarming your head, disappearing into nothingness.
Your eyes lightened up with life and excitement. You didn’t even know how much you missed him until he was right in front of you. “Eren!” You pulled away from Marco, rushing to hug him. “I’m so glad you’re here!” Your cheeks burned up with happiness.
Eren didn’t even look at you, his eyes were locked on Marco. Filled with jealousy, “Y/n, good to see you.” He jolted back when your body collided with his, your arms wrapping around his torso. He only tore his eyes away from him when he felt your head tilt up to look at him.
Your bright eyes were glossy, and his mind halted.
You smiled, cheek pressed against his chest. “I missed you, ‘Ren.” Your body was warm, your chest pressed against his torso. Your face was soft, and as beautiful as ever.
Eren felt his heart flutter, his arms wrapping around your body. Fuck, he missed you so much. He hates himself for ghosting you for no reason. But, he was doing what he was told. Eren smiled at you, his dimples flashing, “I–yeah, I’ve been excited for this trip.” He replied, slowly pulling his body away from you. His mind was screaming at himself to stay close, but he didn’t.
You blinked a few times, slowly pulling back. “Oh.” That wasn't the reply you were expecting, and it made your heart… sting. You turned over his shoulder, peering at Armin. You waved, pulling him into a brief hug. “It’s good to see you too, and–” Your smile dropped, instantly you turned your head to look at Marco.
Marco furrowed his eyebrows, his lips parting in disbelief. Oh shit.
You looked back, waving at the girl standing in front of you. A short white dress, and some cute black flats. Her short hair a similar color, she waved back, flashing you a gorgeous smile. You forced one back, “Oh, uhm, hi, I’m Y/n.” Did she come with Eren?
No, shit Sherlock.
Her hand outstretched to you, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi, I’m Mikasa. I’m so glad you were okay with me coming.” Her hand took yours, shaking it softly. “Eren told me all about you in the car, and I’ve seen you around campus. Always wanted to say hi, you just always looked busy.” Her voice had a soft, playful, but flat tone.
You and Eren really miscommunicated with the whole friends thing. You were expecting Armin to be the only one coming with Eren. “Yeah, definitely. You should’ve just come up to me.” You reassured, “And any friend of Eren’s a friend of mine.” You pulled your hand back, holding onto them behind your back.
Mikasa smiled, nodding her head. “I’m glad.” She pulled away, walking to Eren’s side and looping her arm through Eren’s. “And I’m so excited for this trip.” She looked up at Eren, wiggling her shoulders playfully.
Your eyes flickered to where they connected, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Why is she touching him? “Yeah, uh, I’ll take you guys to the lounge.” You turned on your heel, silently talking to Marco with your eyes. What the hell is she doing here?!
He flashed you a similar expression. Marco seemed to have the same thought, unsure of the situation. No clue.
Armin pulled the back of Eren’s shirt, and whispered, “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.” Eren didn’t say anything, just passed him an acknowledging look.
Marco cleared his throat, turning to Eren and smiling. “Hi, I’m Marco.” He looked at you for a moment, “Y/n and I go way back. She’s been talking non-stop about yo—“
“How excited I am for this trip!” You cut him off, opening the sliding door and allowing them to walk inside. “Marco has been my go-to phone call ever since you stopped—“ You paused, “Uhm, since a few weeks ago.”
Eren felt his chest squeeze for a moment, before nodding his head. Taking a step into the lounge. “Right.” He knew bringing Mikasa would have been a bit awkward, but he hoped it would create some distance between the two of you. So he wouldn’t end up saying something Mr. Stark directly told him not to.
Then again, with or without Mikasa, Eren was worried there would be some unresolved tension between the two of you. But, he shouldn’t worry about that right now.
Eren always knew you were rich, but he never knew the expense of it. And, your yacht alone was a clear indicator of that. Let alone the lavish atmosphere of the inside. The ceiling was decorated in a glass chandelier, the floor a deep wood, and windows that made it impossible to call the place a private, confined space.
Connie looked over the couch, flashing the new group a smile. “Jeager-bomb! About time you showed up, Y/n was getting worried here.” Connie paused, his lips twisting into an amused smile as his eyes landed on the girl next to Eren. Sasha had a similar knowing expression, “Oh shit.” They both turned to look at Jean.
Jean dropped the bag in his hands, “What the fuck.” His hands went slack, his eyes locked onto Mikasa.
Mikasa tensed, her hands pulling away from Eren while she smiled at Jean. She waved, “Hi Jean, it’s been some time.” You could tell by the way she played with the ends of her dress, this interaction was awkward. You wondered why.
Jean turned on his heel, walking farther into the boat. “You’re fucking with—I’m going crazy.” He laughed to himself, running his fingers through his slick back hair. “I’m going crazy.”
Sasha smiled, “Don’t go too far, Jean. We might need you for jeopardy—“
“Shut up!” Jean yelled.
Connie and Sasha snickered, fist bumping. “Y/n, inviting Mikasa made this already awesome vacation, even more memorable.” Sasha laughed, placing her elbow on the head of the couch, and resting her face in her hand. “Last time we played personal jeopardy with Jean, and he killed it with all the questions about Mikasa.”
Mikasa softly laughed, nodding her head. “Yeah, he knew some stuff about me I didn’t even know.”
You slowly nodded, and grabbed Marco’s arm, pulling him close and whispering, “I have a feeling there’s a lot of unresolved tension between some people on this boat.” You looked back at Sasha and Connie, raising your voice to speak to them. “I was going to introduce you, but it seems you guys already know each other.”
Connie gave you a thumbs up, “Have since highschool.”
You let out a soft breath, forcing a tense smile. “Right.”
Marco bumped his shoulder against yours, “Connie and Sasha are right, this is going to be one memorable trip.” He laughed, bumping into your shoulder, walking to the couch. “I can’t wait to tease you about it for the rest of your life.”
You loudly groaned, pushing yourself away from the boats opening and shutting the door behind you. “I hate everyone on this goddamn boat.” Where’s Niccolo? I need a drink. You went the way Jean had, a part of you hoping to run into him.
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: The Kitchen...]ˎˊ
No matter what happened between you and Jean, it wasn’t long before the two of you were talking like nothing happened.
However, you couldn’t deny the dynamic between the two of you had significantly shifted from your last argument. Different from what it once was a few weeks ago. A comfortable relationship, that wasn’t exactly platonic, but was never going to develop any farther than that. It took awhile for Jean to accept it, but he did, and tried his best to respect your unrequited feelings for him. Even if deep down it pained him to know the truth.
Then again, Jean tried not to care, he liked your company. He understood where you stood, and was thankful you could ignore his pressuring past to try and be more with you. Jean was willing to just be friends if that kept you in his life.
Jean valued your friendship with him, and didn’t want to lose that.
It wasn’t something you wanted to change. You liked knowing that no matter how playful, touchy, affectionate, loving, or caring you were, Jean could value it as is. In a way where he didn’t expect anything farther than that. Even if it took the majority of your friendship… Still, it was good to know that he wasn’t just your friend in hopes of going further with you anymore, and he understood your feelings.
Unlike a certain brother of his.
You sighed, leaning on Jean’s shoulder while you took sips of your champagne. Looking out the one-way window into the lounge from the kitchen. Connie was jumping on your couches making weird poses at Sasha, while she made equally weird ones back. A part of you wondered if they were secretly part wizard, and were enchanting some type of weird protection spell on the boat.
You tilted your head back, looking at Jean, wondering if he was also transfixed by the stupidity your friends were actively displaying. However, it was soon evident he was transfixed by someone else in the lounge.
Marco.
You giggled, wrapping your arms around his, “Jean, you’re staring.” You cooed, letting your head fall back on his arm. “I mean, I get it, Marco’s a cute boy.” You tugged on his arm gently, “You should totally shoot your shot.” You dramatically put your hand over your chest, “Or… don’t tell me, you’re secretly waiting for Eren to finally notice you?”
Jean shook you off his arm, his cheeks dusted in a dark shade of red. “You’re so stupid, Y/n.” Still, there was a hit of playfulness in his voice, but he masked it with a sip from his drink.
You giggled, “I mean, I am. But, anyone can pick up on the tension between you two.” You took another sip of your drink, reaching for the bottle and pouring yourself some more. “Don’t tell me you’re slowly getting over your obsession with me.”
Jean laughed, a smug smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah? You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?” He shook his head, “But, I’m not worried about us right now, I’m worried about Mikasa.” His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.
“Mikasa?” You softly repeated, “Why? Did something happen between you two?” You tilted your head at him, wrapping both your hands around your glass.
“Yeah…” Jean said, “I get weird with crushes, like I—“
“I know how you are with crushes.” You said, poking his side. “You’ve liked me since freshman year.” You teased, a soft reassuring smile on your lips.
Jean slowly trailed his hands over his face, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t know you knew for that long.” He sighed, “Yeah, looks like I wasn’t subtle when I met you.”
You nodded, propping yourself up on the marble counter. “I’m not a complete idiot, I can pick up on body language.” You hit his leg with your foot, smiling like a clueless child. “Like with you and Marco.” Jean hit your shoulder, you raised your hands defensively. “Shit, is Eren the better person in this situation?”
“Shut up, I literally hate you.” Jean hid his smile with his cup, pretending to take another sip.
You shrugged, turning away. “Sure you do.” You continued to look outside the one way window, peering at Eren. You tapped your cup a few times in thought, “Mikasa?”
“Mikasa.” Jean repeated, almost as if he was forcing it out of his mouth. “We have history…”
Your eyes widened in shock, “You two dated?!”
“No!” Jean shouted, shaking his hands. “We had that weird talking, situationship, thing going on. Never official, but at some point we weren’t just friends, you know?” You nodded your head. “Well, I wasn’t the healthiest person to be with.”
“Really?” You sarcastically asked.
“Shut up.” Jean ran his hands through his hair, “Imagine me with you, but thirty times worse.”
“I’m glad you’re finally over that faze.” You smiled at him, “It’s nice to be friends with you, but it was hard ignoring how painfully rude you were.” Jean quite literally told you, your art didn’t matter. Which was a hurtful thing to hear from a man you considered your best friend.
Jean’s nose wrinkled, “Shit, it still hurts to hear that.” He accepted how you felt about him, but it still hurt to hear. “But, yeah. Mikasa and I left each other on… bad terms.”
You tilted your head, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “What happened?”
“She tried ending things with me, and I didn’t want that to happen.” Jean grimaced, breathing through his teeth. “So, I kinda’ ghosted her when she wanted to talk about stuff.”
You looked away, taking a sip from your drink. “I’m sure the ladies are all over you.” You shook your head, “But, wouldn’t it be a good time to talk it out?”
Jean sighed, turning his head away from you and shrugging.
You pressed your lips together. So this was a topic Jean didn’t like thinking about. “Do you plan on apologizing to Eren? Now would be the perfect opportunity.” You tapped your cup, softening your voice. “Maybe it’ll help you with Mikasa.”
Jean was silent. Almost as if he was trapped in his head, his lips parted, but nothing came out. Just a comfortable silence between the two of you. Until Jean finally spoke, “I’ll talk to him, if you talk to him.” He took another ginger sip of his drink.
Your eyebrows furrowed, your head snapping to look at him. “What?” Your hand was tight around your glass, your voice no longer soft.
Jean thickly swallowed, “I’m sure Marco told you, but we—occasionally talk to one another.” He blinked a few times, “And, call.”
You turned away, hiding your smug smile. You lifted your cup to your lips, “And occasionally fuc—“
“Marco told me about you, and Eren.” Jean quickly said, cutting you off. “Especially about how you wished he would bone you.”
Your smile slowly fell, your face burning up with embarrassment. “I’ve never said that!” You shouted, throwing a punch at Jean’s shoulder. “I don’t even like him… like that.” You slowly said, finding yourself hesitating to complete that statement.
Jean smiled. “I was joking about that last part, but if the shoe fits.” He shrugged, poking his cheek with his tongue.
“I hate you.” You said, “But, that backstabber. I thought I could trust him.” You slammed your drink on the counter, some of the liquid falling out from the force. “I swear, I’m going to kill him.”
Jean pushed you, “Stop. He didn’t mean to.” He sighed, leaning on the counter, “I was just curious about how you were doing, and he ended up spilling about you and Eren.” After a lot of prodding. “And, to be fair, he only told me this morning, because he was scared the trip might be awkward for you. He wanted to avoid that. He wanted you to have fun.”
You slapped your hands over your face, “Ugh. Remind me to never tell Marco anything again.” That was a lie, you liked talking to Marco. He gave good advice.
“You know that’s a lie, gorgeous.” Jean laughed to himself, “You love him too much to leave.” There it is again. That nickname. Jean called you that back at the tent, and he was doing it again.
You blinked a few times, propping your leg over the other. Even though you desperately tried to hide your shocked expression, you still looked somewhat confused. “Since when did you start calling me gorgeous? I thought I was babe?” You tilted your head.
Wait a minute. That’s one of the nicknames Spider-Man gave you. It was specific, and too coincidental. Was Jean…
“Have I? I honestly don’t even realize half the shit I call you until Connie or Sasha point it out.” Jean laughed to himself, “Like with the babe shit, Connie said something about it, and I had no clue what he was talking about.” He scratched the back of his head.
You gingerly nodded, not completely convinced. “Right.” It wasn’t undeniable evidence that Jean was Spider-Man, but it definitely stirred some questions in your head. It was something you would definitely keep in mind.
Besides, you’ve been itching to know who the man behind Spider-Man is. Since everyone at Stark Industries refuses to tell you who it is. I swear, they’ve been so secretive about everything recently.
Also, you wanted to know who Spider-Man was, so you can kill him for leaving Eren behind… Nothing that would make him want to keep his identity a secret.
“Want me to pour you more?” Jean asked, grabbing the champagne and shaking it slightly.
You looked at your cup, picking it up and holding it. “Yeah, just one more sip.”
Jean smiled, pouring a small amount into your drink. Only a sip more, “Naughty girl, you’re not even twenty one, yet.”
You shook your head, a playful smile on your lips. “Naughty girl.” You repeated, mimicking his accent. “You’re so weird, stop it.”
“Ang— Y/n.” Eren called, peeking his head into the kitchen. It felt weird to call you by your name, almost foreign. He’s more used to calling you nicknames from under the mask. Additionally, it’s been a few weeks since he’s even seen you, let alone talked to you.
However, his eyes landed on Jean. He gave him a curt nod, not rude, but acknowledging. “Jean.” He greeted stiffly, “Connie’s calling for you, says he wants to play his game.” His head was racing, why were you alone with Jean? What were you two talking about? “Should I be concerned?” Shit, did he say that out loud?
Your eyebrows raised, your lips parting almost in shock. “Eren?” You blinked a few times, clearing your throat. “No–no, Connie just–it’s a game.” You pushed yourself off the counter, quickly downing the rest of your drink. “Connie likes making games for us to play. He’s even made board games for us.”
Eren tilted his head, his eyes moving up and down your body. You looked cute in your outfit. He never got to admire the way you looked in it, since his attention was focused on Marco. “A game?” He asked, his eyes finally meeting yours again.
You nodded enthusiastically, trying to hide the way your heart raced from the eye contact. “Mhm, Connie loves making games for us to play.” You put your hands on Eren’s back, slowly pushing him back into the lounge. You turned to look at Jean, gesturing your head to Eren and mouthing, “I’ll leave him here with you if you want to say something.”
Jean shook his head, mouthing, “I’ll say something, if you promise to say something.”
You pressed your lips together, unsure if you liked those conditions. You shook your head, “I’m not doing that.”
Jean smiled, walking behind you and Eren. “Then, neither am I.”
You rolled your eyes, walking to Eren’s side.
Eren could feel the conversation happening behind him, he just didn’t have a single clue what it was about. Then again, he wasn’t thinking entirely straight with the way your hands were pressed gently against his back. He wondered if this is what women felt when men did the same. Giddy, flustered, hot and bothered, and weirdly attracted to it.
“Eren, you know how you like taking pictures?” You asked, looping your arm with his. Eren nodded, “Well, I brought my polaroid.” You leaned your head on his arm, looking up at him. “Maybe you can teach me a thing, or two.”
Eren couldn’t help, but smile at your gesture. You were taking an interest in a hobby that practically forced the birth of your college relationship with him. “Yeah, I’d love to.” His heart squeezed, as your smile grew.
Connie pointed at you, jumping off the couch. “Y/n, baby, so glad you could make it.” He said, opening his arms, “Is everyone ready for the main event?” Connie placed his hands on his hips, sexily walking to his Spider-Man backpack again.
Jean rolled his eyes, taking a seat on the couch. Sasha on the other hand, pushed herself off the couch and reached for her phone, frantically looking for something. Until her finger stopped, a sly smile coming over her lips as Connie paused, looking at her over his shoulder, almost as if he was waiting for something. “Prepare to eat your heart out.” He whispered.
Sasha pressed her screen a final time, making a song play with surprisingly bad quality.
Pony.
I can’t believe he’s pulling this shit again.
You slapped your hand over your face, trying to suppress the laugh threatening to spill from your throat. Eren turned away, mimicking your expression, but in a different direction. Armin felt his jaw drop, before his eyebrows raised. Did he like this?
Marco loudly cheered, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a –what he liked to call– stripper one. “Yeah, Connie!” He threw his stripper one at him, “Take it off!”
Connie smiled, pointing at Marco a few times. “See, I like him.” Connie peeled off his sweater, “I better see hundos rolling by the time I’m in my underwear.” He pointed at his pants, “I make people pay to see this dick.”
“No, he doesn't.” Jean whispered to Marco, leaning into his shoulder slightly. “The man’s lucky if a girl lets him see–” Jean gestured to his chest, giving his imaginary boobs a nice squeeze. Jean smiled at himself, finding his actions amusing.
Marco laughed, but it was more at Jean, then with him. “I’m sure you know all about that.”
Jean’s eyes widened, before he laughed. He bumped his shoulder against Marco’s, “Fuck, yeah.”
Connie ran his hands down his body sexily, bending over seductively and reaching for the contents inside his Spider-Man backpack. Eren noticed, and felt his chest swell with pride. “Time for friendships to end.” He pulled out a pink can of silly string, shaking it in the air. “And long lasting enemies to begin.” He subtly glared at Sasha, to which she obviously glared back.
Immediately, Jean and you groaned, already knowing where this was going. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning into Eren. “Last time we played this game, Connie and Sasha ended up not talking for over a month.” You softly laughed, “Connie won, but it almost ended their friendship.”
Eren tilted his head, lowering it slightly so he could whisper in your ear. “Is our friendship going to end over this game?” It was a genuine question, Eren was scared of losing you over a game of all things, but you assumed he was joking.
You laughed, “Maybe. I can’t lose against Mr. Pimp over here again.” You jerked your thumb to Connie, ignoring how he ran his hands through his hair, or lack thereof. Still dancing to Pony. “Unless, you want to make a truce with me.”
Eren smiled back at you, ignoring how the back of his head was tingling. “Of course, I do.” Eren wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but this would suffice for now. “But, I still have no clue how to play this game.”
You sighed, “Connie’s going to explain, don’t worry.”
Connie tossed the pink silly string in your direction, watching as you caught it with ease. It was a common thing for Connie to do, considering he was the first person to notice your almost unhuman reflex speed. “As we have some new players, I’ll explain how to play again.”
You shook your can, opening the cap. Jean, Connie, and Sasha all flinched, almost hiding behind something. You laughed at their reaction, pulling the can over your lips. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I’m not going to do anything.” You hid your sadistic smile, “Yet.”
Connie slowly nodded, putting both his hands out to create distance between the two of you. “...Each person gets a unique color, and everyone has three lives.” He grabbed another can, “The goal is to survive.” He shrugged, “Or, just be the one with the most lives.”
Armin tilted his head, leaning on one of the couches' handles. “Sounds easy enough.” He looked at the Spider-Man bag, “You got yellow in there?”
Connie nodded, reaching into his bag and grabbing another can. “It is, but there is an important rule.” He threw the specific color at Armin, “Once you hit someone, another person has to acknowledge them with the sentence, “Have you been hit?” And, the person who was hit, has to truthfully reply. It’s the only way to actually end a life.”
Marco tilted his head, “Well, you did say washable? What if someone does that? Or, what if nobody notices a person has been hit?”
Connie smiled, lifting his index finger over his lips. “That’s all I can say about the game.” He dumped everything in his bag on the ground, the cans of silly string rolling everywhere. “Who wants what color?”
“Can I have red?”
That voice made Eren shutter. His head twisted to the side, peering over his shoulder to the individuals behind him. Your brothers. He knew they were innocent, but with the way they entered the room without him noticing, felt… odd.
Chilling.
Eren felt a shiver move down his entire body, starting at the nape of his neck and ending at his feet. Their eyes made him recoil in fear, filled with disdain and fear. And, they were locked onto Eren, almost as if they could see inside the deepest part in his mind.
They know. Eren shoved that thought away. Trying his best to ignore the way his head was tingling out of control.
“No, he can’t.” You immediately interjected, not letting Connie answer. You loudly groaned, “I thought you said you weren’t going to bother us, Reiner.”
Reiner laughed, placing his hands on his hips. “We just want to play a game with our little sister, nothin’ too bad.” There was a smug smile on his lips, one that pissed you off.
Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?” Why in the world would they call you that? Siblings don’t call each other by their titles. They definitely want something. “Don’t call me that, it’s weird. But, what do you want?”
“To play a game.” Reiner said.
“We already assigned that role to Connie. We’re good with games.” You pointed at Connie, “Besides, we don’t have enough silly string.”
“It’s fine, we already have a game in mind.” Reiner moved to the couch, sitting next to Sasha. Sasha suppressed a smile, and you wrinkled your nose. “And, Bertolt is bringing drinks.”
“Niccolo can make drinks, we don’t need you to bring any.” You argued.
Sasha smiled, pulling a pillow over her lap. “It’s okay, Y/n. We can let them make a game for the night. It’ll only be one round since I’m sure everyone is tired from driving here.” She looked at Jean, and whispered. “Get your drugs, Y/n’s not going to be able to do this sober.”
You glanced at Marco, trying to get a second opinion. He nodded, flashing you a kind smile. You sighed, “Fine, we can play your game.” You needed some time away from your brothers, being with them for even a fraction of a second drained your being.
You naturally wanted to pull Eren with you, and drag him to whatever room your heart desired. Yet, you felt awkward doing so. Would that be okay? The two of you hadn't spent time together in so long. What if you wouldn’t know what to say, what if things were different now?
What if he changed?
What if he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore?
What if he didn’t like you anymore.
You pulled on Eren’s shirt, “C’mon, I wanna get my camera. Jean put some of our stuff in the dining room.” You ignored how your heart stung with your array of thoughts. Especially with the last one.
Eren’s eyes flicked to your hand, then moved back to your face, widening with shock. “This place has a dining room?” He aspirated.
You nodded, turning over your shoulder. “This place has a gym.”
“Awesome.”
You turn to look at Jean, “Jean, you put my bag in the dining room, right?” Jean passes you a thumbs up, but he instantly turns his attention back to Marco, almost as if the interaction between the two of you never happened.
Jean looks engaged, his body twisted to give Marco his undivided attention. While Macro is turned away, holding onto a pillow between them. A part of you wonders if he’s doing that to create distance. Despite that, you try your best to suppress a smile. You pull Eren’s sleeve, leading him into the dinning room. “C’mon, let's go.”
Reiner looks at Bertolt, gesturing his head to you and Eren. Why were you so touchy with him? Did you know Eren was Spider-Man? That would make sense, considering how close you and Spider-Man are. Unless, you didn’t know, and Eren liked…
Or, you liked Eren.
Reiner’s eyes widened with realization. He needed answers. But, before they could voice anything, someone else did. “Are they dating?”
Everyone turned to Mikasa. Connie sighed in thought, “Short answer, no.”
“Long answer?” Mikasa asked, tilting her head to the side. Armin couldn’t help but think, this can’t be good.
“No.” Jean added, crossing his arms over his chest. “But, I wouldn’t put it past them to be secretly dating.” He smiled to himself, “Since we all know Yeager is obsessed with her.”
Marco gently elbowed his side, giving Jean a look.
Jean raised his hands defensively, “Fine. Mildly likes her.”
Reiner froze, his mind halting. “Please don’t tell me she likes him too.” He whispered to Bertolt.
Connie rolled his head, “Don’t take anything Jean says seriously. He punched Eren thinking he liked Y/n.” He shrugged, “I’d ask him to be sure, Eren’s a really nice guy once you get to know him. I think he’s just like that with everyone.”
Armin rolled his eyes, if only.
Reiner looked at Bertolt, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well, does Y/n like him?” That would make this situation a whole lot more painful. And you’d hate them way more than you already do. “You know, as her older brother.”
Mikasa lifted her hand, “I second this question.” She softly laughed, “Just not the older brother part.”
“Well, ye–” Marco looked at Jean, giving him silent words. Don’t say anything. So, Jean cleared his throat and spoke again, “Well, you never know. Y/n’s never been big on relationships, or dating. You’d have to ask her yourself.”
Reiner and Bertolt let out a silent breath of relief. Thank god. You wouldn’t hate them too much.
Sasha looked in your direction, “I wonder why?”
“Me too, since she was such a freak our freshma–” Jean threw a pillow at Connie’s face, and unlike you, his reflexes were as on point as a sloth. Connie nodded, “Noted.”
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: The Dining Room...]ˎˊ
You dug into your bag, pulling out a white polaroid camera. It was in its case, decorated in home made stickers Eren assumed you made yourself. He could feel his heart clinch once he saw one with Spider-Man’s face. Hearts surrounding his head. Eren noticed you saw it too, your eyes softening for a moment.
You pulled the camera out of its case, popping the camera lens open. “I know it’s not as fancy as your camera, but still.” You smiled, “It’s the thought that counts, right?”
Eren nodded, his eyes caught only by your face and adoring smile. “Right.”
You ignored how hot Eren looked, and twisted the camera around. “Here. Since you printed the pictures of us at the tree.” You smiled, “Let’s take one of just you and me before the idiots take horrible ones.”
Eren blinked a few times, before laughing. “Are you sure the idiots aren’t going to be hurt by that?”
You silently shushed him, “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You stood on your tippy-toes, cupping your mouth near his ear. “Besides, it can be our little secret.”
Eren shivered as he nodded. He didn’t mean to nod. Hell, he didn’t even know he was nodding, but that’s what your words did to him. He mindlessly pulled a chair, taking a seat at the table.
You handed him the camera, watching as he flipped it so the lens faced the two of you. “I feel like we should do something cute.” You mumbled, taking a seat next to him.
Eren hid his smile, “Just smile at the camera, I’ll do something cute.”
You turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes. “I don’t think I trust you.” You teased.
“Good.” Eren placed his finger on the camera, adjusting it so the small mirror captured both of you. “Give me every right to prove it to you.”
Your lips parted in shock, you’ve heard that before. You’ve been told that exact heartfelt line before. It felt like someone wrapped their being around you, holding you tight. A security you’ve felt with one person, and now wrapped around your body again. Your eyes softened, as a kind smile splitting your lips. You’ve felt this exact way before.
But, who was it with?
“I trust you.” You whispered, “I’m just messing with you.”
Eren nodded, “I know.”
You looked at the camera, smiling. Soon enough, you felt Eren move next to your cheek, pressing something against it. DId he?... Did he kiss…
You burst out in laughter, your right eye closing as Eren bit your cheek a bit harder. Snapping the picture. You gasped, reaching for the camera. “Fuck, did it catch me laughing?” You looked at Eren, “I look terrible when I laugh. Can we do that again?”
Eren shook his head, grabbing the underdeveloped picture from the camera. “Hell no, you look gorgeous.” He watched as the picture slowly developed, but in his eyes, it wasn’t moving fast enough.
You felt that surge of deja vu hit you again. You’ve experienced this. It’s on the tip of your tongue, yet you can’t seem to remember. Damn…
You took the camera from his hands, “Fine, you can keep it. As long as I get to have a picture of you laughing.” You pointed the camera at his face, looking through the small lens. That's when you felt something you had never felt before.
Longing.
Desire.
Desperation.
Eren smiled at you, his dimples poking into his cheeks. His teeth flashing you a charming smile. His hair pulled back, a few baby hairs framing his face. “Whatever, as long as I get another one of you.” He teased, pulling on the black crew-neck he was wearing. His hands were decorated with a few rings.
You pressed the button without thought, snapping the picture of Eren smiling. You could feel your cheeks burning. It almost felt like… infatuation. A part of you wondered if anyone had ever felt that way about you.
Eren’s eyes widened, “What! I wasn’t ready!”
“Neither was I.” You defended, taking the developing picture from your camera. “Now, it’s fair.”
“Hey, at least mine was cute.” Eren looked at the first picture. His heart nearly burst at the picture. It had finally developed. It was adorable. Your smile was perfect, your skin tinted in a deeper shade, and your eyes were lit up with life.
You looked so happy.
“Can I take another picture of you?” The words left his mouth without thought. Almost like some invisible force was forcing the words out of his head.
You whipped your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “No. Why?”
Eren thickly swallowed, “Because, I want to teach you a few things.” He just wanted a picture of just you.
You pouted in thought, slowly looking to the side. “Hm.” You looked back at Eren, “Fine, since I lo–” You paused, blinking a few times. “Since I adore you so much.”
Eren nodded. Maybe he was crazy, but he could've sworn you were going to say…
“C’mon, I know the perfect place to take a picture.” You grabbed your hand, pulling him up a flight of stairs, and to one of the patios of your yacht. You pushed open the door and got blasted with a gust of wind. Your hair flying dramatically behind you.
Eren felt his eyes squint, before they adjusted to the brightness of the setting sun. He felt his lips part in admiration. The beauty of the sky taking the words from his mouth, and adding them to the infinite array of hot hues.
You turned over your shoulder, looking at Eren. “Gorgeous, right?” You smiled, raking your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face. “I like to call it my personal painting. Pretty, right?”
Eren’s eyes instantly went to you, drinking up the way the sky reflected on your skin. Your hair blowing behind you, and the subtle red slowly developing on your cheeks. Eren slowly nodded, agreeing with you, but his eyes were no longer taking in the sky. “Beautiful.”
A laugh left your lips, “I knew you’d like it.”
“Yeah.” Eren’s response was brief, “You just know me too well.” He lifted the camera, switching the lens to the correct setting. He then pointed it at you, “Smile.”
“This has got me reminiscing.” You softly said, your hands extended ever so slightly, feeling the breeze twist its way around your body. “Like, when we first met.” You leaned on the railing, “What about you?”
Eren blinked a few times, eyeing the camera, before lowering it. His thumb running over the back, “I–” He pressed his lips together, “You remember that?”
“Eren, you gave me a picture of it.” You laughed, “It’s kinda hard to forget something I have photographic evidence of.”
“It took you awhile, you didn’t recognize me at first.” Eren softly said, almost hurt.
“I did. Somewhat.”
“Somewhat?” Eren questioned, tilting his head.
You nodded, “Yeah. I know who you were, I just couldn’t put my finger on from where.” You smiled endearingly, “Then, you gave me the pictures, and it came flooding back to me.” You pushed yourself off the railing.
“I’m glad it did.” He pointed the camera at you, “I don’t know what I’d do if you forgot me.”
“You’d probably die.” You put your hands behind your back, looking at the lens and smiling.
“I probably would.” Eren pushed the button, capturing the image in front of him. “Got it.”
You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust from the brief pain of the flash. “Wait, I thought you were going to give me some tips?”
Eren grabbed the picture, and placed the camera back into the case. “I lied.” He told you, “I just said that so I could take a picture of you.” He turned on his heel, walking back inside.
You ran after him, glaring at him. Why would Eren want a picture of you? Worst of all, you’re pretty sure your hair was in your face, and you blinked.
“Come write something on it.” Eren called over his shoulder, “I’ll write something on my picture.”
“Like an exchange?”
“Like an exchange.” Eren confirmed, tossing you a pink sharpie.
“Did you take this from my bag?” You asked, popping open the lid, and watching as he did the same with a black one.
A mischievous smile came over his face, “Maybe.” Eren grabbed his picture, scribbling something on the bottom of it.
You, on the other hand, tapped your sharpie in thought. You didn’t know what to write, or much rather, didn’t know what was appropriate to. You had spent the better hour with Eren, and everything felt like it was… normal, but you didn’t know what to say. Which wouldn’t be the case if you went back in time to a version of yourself before the two of you went undercover to Oscorp.
You were carefree about your relationship with him, but now…
What if you said something that would give him the wrong idea?
You paused, what wrong idea would you be giving him?
“I don’t know what to write…” You thought aloud.
Eren perked his head up, “Write something for me to read in the future.” He slid his picture to you over the table. “And, you have the whole weekend, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He smiled at you, “You always do.”
Looking back at the picture of you, you furrowed your eyebrows. “Can I give it back to you later? Before the end of the trip.”
Eren popped the cap back onto the Sharpie he was using, “Sure, I don’t see anything wrong with that.” He handed you the camera back, “But, I’ll give you my picture later. Just to be fair.”
You nodded, I guess that’s fair. You looked at your camera, the stickers you created catching your attention, specifically, the Spider-Man one. You smiled, “Did you know me and Spider-Man were friends?” You asked, running your thumb over the sticker.
Eren shook his head, “No, I had no idea.” He cupped his face with his hand, leaning on the table.
You laughed, “Yeah. I guess that’s fair, I didn’t really talk about him.” You looked to the side, using your hand to support your head on the table. “Honestly, I thought you would’ve been more excited since you like him so much.”
Eren raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side confused. “I like him?”
You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. “I mean, yeah? You’ve said you worked with him, and you were talking about him when we worked on that project?”
Shit, that’s right! Eren cleared his throat, “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I think the drinks are getting to me.”
“You were drinking? I thought you drove over here?”
“Continue.” Eren responded, I’m embarrassing myself right now.
You laughed, “Okay. But, recently he did something that pissed me off.” You looked at him, averting your eyes for a moment, before returning them. “He left you. And, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you…” You paused, pressing your lips together.
Eren nodded, already knowing what you were trying to say. “Yeah?”
You nodded, smiling at him gently, glad he wasn’t forcing the words out. “Yeah.”
It was silent.
Your mind wasn’t. Eren’s was the same.
You were the first one to break the silence, “Do you… want to talk about it?...” You were playing with your fingers, picking at the dead skin near your nails.
Eren thickly swallowed, blinking at his picture, “Talk about… what?” He knew what you were asking about, but he didn’t know how to explain his reasoning behind it without spilling his secret, and more importantly, without lying to you.
You bit at your bottom lip, looking away. “Uh, uhm… You know?” You looked back at him, your bottom lip red and agitated. It looked painful, it was painful. “Why you haven’t…”
“Try not to do that.” Eren’s words were soft, his eyes trained on your lips. “It’s going to hurt when you eat something spicy or salty.” He smiled awkwardly, “I would know. I did it a bunch in highschool.”
You parted your lips, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. “Right, I–I forgot.” You sucked on your bottom lip, soothing it softly. You blinked as Eren leaned forward, his hand softly grabbing your chin, and his free hand running it’s thumb over your bottom lip. You winced in pain.
Eren pulled back, “Sh–Shit, I didn’t mean to. I wouldn’t want to hurt…” His face was burning, cheeks, nose, and ears a dark shade of red. “H–Here, this should help.” He reached into his pocket messily, pulling out a small tub of chapstick.
However, his short panic fell on deaf ears. You were slightly spaced out, eyes unfocused, your lips parted as your heart beated at a rate you didn’t think was possible. Eren touched you. His hands were rough, but gentle, holding your face like it was a relic of glass.
Eren popped the cap of his chapstick open, twisting the bottom, and exposing more of the soothing material. He’s about to hold your face, but stops himself. “Can I?”
You smiled, nodding your head. “You have my consent.”
Eren smiled, “Okay.” His voice is soft, his hands are equally as soothing. He used his thumb to pull down on your chin, your bottom lip being pulled down with it. You flutter your lashes when the stick touches your mouth, running back and forth and spreading the smooth material over your stinging lips. Which was surprisingly helpful.
Eren moved to your top lip, doing the same with a careful motion. You tried your best not to laugh, finding it endearing how concentrated he was. His free hand cupping your chin, the other slowly moving the stick over your lips.
“Uhm, the group’s asking for you guys.”
You recognized the voice, but didn’t pay it any attention. You kept your eyes on Eren, letting him answer for you. “Okay, we’ll be there–” Eren furrowed his eyebrows, peering at the person behind you. “Just, give me a second, Mikasa.”
Mikasa pivoted a foot behind another, tilting her head at the two of you. “Alright.” Her voice was small, almost unsure. Was she?... Interrupting something?
Eren, still unsure whether or not to continue, looked at you and pressed his lips together. Telling you to mimic his actions, that way the chapstick would evenly spread over your lips. Eren nodded, and smiled at you, “Good, perfect.” He praised, cocking his head to the side. “Ready to go?”
You nodded, letting him lead you out of the way. Mikasa stood in the doorway, letting the two of you pass her before following behind. You didn’t necessarily feel her gaze on you, but you could tell she was staring, probably at Eren.
You wondered how much she saw, and if she’s watching Eren slowly apply the chapstick over his own lips. Despite the sick satisfaction filling your head, you still couldn’t help but think…
Why did he avoid my question?
You just wanted to know why Eren has been avoiding you.
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: The Living Room...]ˎˊ
Connie pouted in the corner of the couch, while Sasha ran her hands up and down his back soothingly. Was she annoyed that Connie was still hurt over not getting to pick the game? Yes. But, she was used to the weird things Connie got hurt by? Also, yes. Sasha turned to Jean, “Did you finish?” She softly asked, watching as he was still obviously rolling a blunt.
Jean glared at her, “I don’t know, you tell me.”
Sasha awkwardly laughed, turning back to Connie, “I told you he was in a pissy mood.” Connie turned over his shoulder, and whispered, “It’s because Y/n and Eren are off who knows where, and doing God knows what.” He smiled, looking at Jean and saying a bit louder, “Alone.”
Jean’s jaw tensed, his eye twitching. Connie wasn’t at all wrong, but that was a half truth. Jean was pissed that the two people who he deeply liked at some point are alone together. How fucking ironic. On top of that, Mikasa, a girl he was unhealthy obsessed with in highschool, was off looking for the two of you.
God was really resting on his shoulder with this shit.
Jean flinched when Marco poked his side, making him turn his attention to the freckle faced boy. Jean almost jumped at their proximity, but he didn’t move back. Marco smiled at Jean’s reaction, “Did I scare you?”
Jean forced an awkward smile, “Me, Scared? Never.” Jean tapped his knee, “Why would I get–why would you scare me?” Jean tilted his head, and propped his arm on the head of the couch, holding up his head with his hand.
Marco turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow before laughing. “I was messing with you, but, okay?” His eyes flicked to the blunt Jean was rolling, he looked back at Jean.
Jean thickly swallowed, “Uh, did you want one?” He lifted it up, “I can make one if you don’t want to share it with someone.”
Marco shook his head, “It’s okay, I don’t do anything like that.”
“Makes sense.” Jean looked at Sasha and Connie, “It’s a nasty habit, something that I love doing.” He looked back at Marco, “Good for you, though.”
Marco shook his head, “I’ll have a go, if you agree to share one with me.” He outstended his pinkie, “Fair?”
Jean instantly smiled, locking his pinkie around Marco’s, “Fair.”
Sasha made a face at Connie, suggestive and knowing. “Weird..” Connie leaned into Sasha’s ear, “My gaydar is going off.” Sasha nodded in agreement.
Jean threw a blunt at Sasha, “You two assholes can have the fucked up one.” He rolled his eyes, “I can literally hear you.”
Sasha leaned over Jean’s lap, reaching for his backpack. “Just give me the bong.”
Jean pushed Sasha off, laughing when she hit the floor. Marco handed the backpack to Sasha's limp body on the floor. Jean suppressed a smile, “Your loss, I used chocolate mint in that.”
Sasha looked up from the floor, eyeing the fucked up blunt, she cringed, than sighed. “Ugh, fine.” She grabbed it, as well as the backpack and propped herself up, deciding to stay on the floor near the coffee table.
Soon enough you entered the room, eyeing the space. “Did my brothers finally leave?”
Connie shook his head, “Nope, said they were going to get some shot glasses and shit.” He grumbled, arms crossed over his chest like a child. “Assholes.”
You laughed, sitting between Marco and Jean. “There’s the spirit.” You looked at the blunt in Jean’s hand. “Are we sharing again, or what?”
Jean pushed your shoulder playfully, “While you were busy makin’ out with Yeager over here, Marco and I already agreed to share one.” He tapped your nose, “A second too late, babe.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “But, I wasn’t making out with–”
“Yes, she was.” Mikasa interjected, smiling playfully as she watched as Sasha carefully prepared the bong for use.
Eren jumped, his ears turning a deep shade of red. “We were not, I was applying–” He paused, looking to the side. “Nevermind.”
“They’re totally gonna’ bone by the end of this trip.” Connie whispered to Sasha and Jean, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Ten bucks.” Sasha shook her head, leaning back into the couch and tilting her head back to talk to her two friends. “I bet twenty.”
Jean laughed, shaking his head. “Thirty they won’t do anything.” He cupped his mouth, “We all know he’s too much of a pussy to even kiss her.” He reached for a lighter in his pocket, intending to light his blunt.
Armin suppressed a smile, “I’m with Jean.” Eren glared at his “best friend,” before taking a seat next to him. He wondered where Mikasa would sit, but his answer was quickly answered when she sat on the floor between his legs, leaning her head on his knee comfortably. Sure, Mikasa wasn’t looking at him, she had her back to Eren, but it still made his heart speed.
Your hand tightened around a pillow, eyeing Eren for a moment.
You threw a pillow at Jean’s face, watching as his body hit the frame of the couch hard. “You guys are terrible at whispering.” You sat on the lovechair, propping your face on your hand and singing, “Next time, I’ll roundhouse kick you.”
“And that shit hurts.” Reiner boasted from behind you, “I’ve been kicked a fair amount of times.” The amount of times you’ve overpowered him in play fights was uncanny, even when he sincerely tried to beat you. Reiner placed the various arrays of wines and liquor, the colorful shot glasses stacked up and placed next to the bottles.
You kicked your feet on the table. “Alright, let's do this.” You leaned your head back, “What game are we playing?” Your eyes were sharp, glaring into your brother, and with the way you were leaning, it made it impossible for anyone but him to see your hateful gaze.
Reiner smiled nonetheless, “A game I always play with my friends all the time.” He sat at your feet, reaching for a beer bottle and popping off the top with his teeth, “Truth or Drink.” He quickly took a sip of his drink, “With a twist, of course.” Reiner continued to finish the glass bottle.
Jean finally lit his blunt, handing it to Marco before taking a hit himself. However, Jean didn’t notice the confused expression Marco had, unsure what to do with the object. “Wait, isn’t that a card game?” Despite Jean asking the question, he didn’t pay attention to what Reiner had to say. Marco tapped his side, asking for some help. To which Jean was more than happy to give.
Reiner placed the empty glass bottle on the table, “Exactly.”
Bertolt entered the room, tearing off the remaining plastic from the box. Tossing it to the side and smiling, “Found it.” He sat next to his brother, popping open the top.
“What took you so long? I thought I said it was in my backpack.” Reiner asked, but it seemed more rhetorical than anything. “Alright, let's get this started. He reached for a yellow, plastic, shot cup. “Everyone grab a color, and I’ll serve you one before we start.”
You kicked Reiner’s back gently, “Pass me a pink one.”
Soon enough, everyone lifted their colorful shot-cup into the air. While you and your brothers confidently exclaimed, “Salud,” the moment you clinked your cups together, everyone else reluctantly copied the three of you. It was endearing to see them awkwardly pronounce, “Salud,” as it was hilarious.
It wasn’t long before Reiner was explaining how to play his version of Truth or Drink. Take a card, spin the bottle, and ask the infamous words of ‘truth or dare,’ let the person pick, and if the person didn’t want to answer or do the request, drink. Truths being one shot, dares being two.
Simple enough. Except, it went both ways. Both parties, whether that be the person asking, had to complete the task with the person who asked. If they wanted to do a dare, or answer a question, so did the asker.
You softly laughed at the game, “So, you’re making us play a glorified version of Truth or Dare?”
Reiner nodded, “Yup.” He looked at you over his shoulder, “It’s fun, you just don’t know how to have any.” He smiled while you glared at him, clearly finding enjoyment in your anger. Subtle, but there nonetheless.
Mikasa, now sitting closer to the table, rather than between Eren’s legs, considering everyone shifted a bit to make the bottle spinning aspect of the game easier, tilted her head and asked, “What if the bottle lands on yourself?”
Reiner looked up, in what looked like thought. Which you thought was odd considering he had played this game so many times with his friends. “How about?... You can pick someone to answer the truth, or do a dare.”
Connie grabbed the blunt from Sasha, shrugging his shoulders. “Sure, let’s get this over with.” Sasha laughed, leaning forward and whispering, “Ignore him, he’s still salty over not getting to pick the game.” Connie rolled his eyes, taking the lighter from Jean.
Reiner smiled, leaning his head back and looking at you. “Youngest goes first.” He handed you the glass bottle, watching as you rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off the couch. Crawling over to the small coffee table, and spinning the bottle. You eyed the bottle, watching as it landed on…
“Jean.” You softly said, smiling at him playfully and grabbing a card. You read the card and scrunched your nose, a reaction to which he laughed at. “Truth or Dare?”
Jean grabbed the blunt from Marco’s mouth, taking a long inhale before answering. “Truth.” He finally held the drug to his lips, letting it flood his senses. “Or, should I pick dare?”
You shook your head, “No, I like this one. Way more than the dare.” You didn’t necessarily want to re-create a sex position with him in front of your brothers. You leaned forward, placing the card face down on the table, “What is the story you tell people who don’t know me?”
Jean laughed, unsure if he wanted to answer that question. Considering the majority of the time when new people were asking about you, it was purely romance related. And, he had to scare them off somehow. He tapped his fingers, blowing out a string of smoke. “I’m not sure you’re going to like the answer.”
Suddenly, Connie burst out laughing, “No, don’t. Don’t tell her that, she’ll kill us.” Connie pressed his hand over his mouth, waving his hand dismissively. “Just take a shot, you know Y/n doesn't say anything too bad about us.”
You blinked a few times, before leaning over the coffee table. “What!? You can’t say that, you have to tell me now!”
Jean shook his head, pouring you and himself a drink. “Nope. Bottoms up.” This time, he was the first one to say, “Salud,” before quickly downing his drink. You rolled your eyes and internally cussed him out, before drinking the painful liquid.
“You’re lucky I like you…” You looked at the person to the left of you, purposely forcing Reiner to be the last person to play. Which happened to be Marco, he passed you his cup, spinning the glass bottle in exchange. You took it upon yourself to drink, everyone watching eagerly as the bottle spun.
Eren, on the other hand, watched as you constantly pressed your glossy lips against Marco’s red solo cup. Whether that be to take a sip, or merely rest them against the rim. Nevertheless, it didn’t take away the fact that you were sharing a drink with him. Something you had once done with Eren so intimately, or… what he thought was intimately. Was that just something you did with all your friends? Or…
Were you now closer to Marco than you were once with him.
Eren nearly felt his heart shatter at that thought. He didn’t mean to push you away, he just wanted to protect you. And with the way your eyes were looking into his, shiny and deep, it made his guilt seep deeper into the cracks of his self consciousness.
Wait?…
Why are you looking at him?
“What the hell did you give him, Reiner?” Sasha asked, waving a hand in front of Eren’s face. “Did you spike it, or something?” She loudly, and dramatically gasped, “Wait, don’t tell me… You plan on slee—“
Jean slapped his hand over Sasha’s mouth, “That’s enough of that, before you get canceled.”
Eren blinked, watching as you tilted your head and softly smiled at him. Hiding yourself behind Marco’s cup. “Uh, what?” He looked around, before glancing at the table. How long was the bottle pointing at him? Did everyone see him staring at you?
Marco smiled, looking at you with a knowing look for a split second before speaking, “Truth or dare?” His hand was flicking the card, waiting patiently for Eren’s answer.
Eren deeply inhaled, his ears a deep shade of red revealing his embarrassment. “Uhm, truth.” He ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick from before.
“Have you ever had thoughts, or feelings for anyone in this room?” Marco asked, grabbing his cup from you, and taking a sip. You reluctantly gave him his drink, and while doing so, you caught a glance of his card.
Truth: What is the most comforting sound in the world?
Dare: Show off your best fake orgasm.
You smiled to yourself, looking back at Eren. Marco’s an angel. You leaned toward Eren, intrigued into what could possibly be his answer. A part of you hoping that his answer would involve you.
Then, another thought hit you, almost overpowering your original curiosity for Eren’s answer. What would be Marco’s answer? He’s never told you too much about his personal relationships. Just subtle things to segway a dying conversation into a more lively one.
Marco tilted his head, looking at Eren’s shot glass, “You wanna tell me?”
Eren felt his eye twitch, watching as Marco lifted the cup to his lips, and took a sip of his drink. “Yes.” His answer was brief, but answering the question was a small price to pay, he had a different goal in mind.
Marco’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “Looks like we’re in the same boat.” Marco leaned his head on your shoulder, taking another sip. And Eren would have crushed the cup in his hand if it wasn’t for you smiling at him, and not Marco.
“Drama.” Jean whispered into his cup, eyeing Eren and you. “Who would’ve guessed.” However, he couldn’t help but notice how Mikasa sipped her drink, her cheeks tinted in a dark shade of red. Wait, does she like—
“Your turn.” Marco pushed the beer bottle to Jean, “Try to make this one interesting.”
Jean narrowed his eyes at him, before rolling his eyes playfully and spinning the bottle. Grabbing a card while it spun. “That seems like an outcome decided by the card.” He flicked the card with his finger, watching as the bottle pointed at the person right in front of him.
Sasha snorted, her hand covering her mouth as she read Jean’s card. She leaned into Connie, “He better pucker up.” Connie slapped his hand over his mouth, “Stop.” He exasperated.
Jean sighed, “Truth or dare.”
Reiner tilted his head, “Dare.”
Sasha laughed so loudly, you thought it was a puppy who yelped in pain. “Fuck yeah, I like this dude.” She lifted her cut to him, while Connie shook his head with a smile.
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “Reiner just refuses to get too drunk. He gets obnoxiously truthful.” You laughed recalling the last time he drank around you, it was honestly painful how desperate he was to sleep with a random girl from one of your father’s get-togethers. Thank god you don’t attend those anymore. “Isn’t that right, brother?” When you said that, you and your brothers cringed.
“Whatever.” Reiner looks back at Jean, “Let’s make out already.”
“Huh? But, that’s not the–”
You could feel shock soar over your body, watching as Reiner climbed over the coffee table, grabbed Jean’s collar, and yanked him to his mouth. Smashing his lips against Jean’s, moving with so much conviction you would’ve thought he was trying to make some weird point.
Your jaw dropped in other words.
Sasha was racing for her phone, Connie's eyes were wide, Marco dropped his drink, Eren didn’t know where to look, Armin slapped his hand over his mouth, Bertolt looked just as shocked as you, and Mikasa looked indifferent.
Sasha absolutely lost her shit the moment her camera picked up Reiner’s tongue slipping past his lips, and into Jean’s. But, just about everyone in that room did, except for Mikasa of course. Jean’s eyes widened, immediately pulling back and slapping his hand over his mouth.
Sasha smiled, “Oh my god, this is literally going to pay off my college debt.” She squealed, flipping the camera to you, revealing the several photos she took, with an additional video with sound. “You know how many girls are dying to have some sort of blackmail on Jean?”
Jean slammed the bottle into Sasha’s chest, standing up and mumbling something about needing to take a piss. You knew it was bullshit, and so did Marco. So, he followed Jean not even a second after.
Connie coughed, loudly saying in between, “They’re totally going to makeout next.” You threw Marco’s empty drink at his face, he blinked, nodding before saying, “Noted.”
“Pass the bottle to Sasha, I’m getting tired.” You told Reiner, “I’ll leave if this game doesn’t end this century.”
“Skip me.” Sasha passed the bottle to Connie, “Me and Connie are one, a pod, we go together.” Connie nodded, twisting the bottle and spinning it.
Reiner was going to object, when Jean walked back into the room. “Just let this have this, they’ll bitch if things don’t go their way.” He sighed, looking at you for a brief moment. “We don’t need to relive the cabin incident.” You just nodded in agreement.
The bottle lands on Armin, and Connie can’t help but smile. “Armin, pretty girl Armen.” He cooed, letting his hand grab a card, and handing it to Sasha, “Tell me babe…” For some reason, Connie’s now speaking in a Brooklyn accent. “You come here often? Should I be getting you a drink?”
“Truth.” Armin slapped his hand over his face, hiding how it was burning bright red.
Sasha smiled, “I like the answer.” She placed the card down on the table, tilting her head to the side. “Have you ever fantasized about one of your close friends?”
Armin’s eyebrows mushed together for a brief second, as if he was thinking, before smiling to himself. He looked back at Sasha and Connie, pouring some liquor into his shot cup, and theirs. “Hell yeah.” He downs the liquid, and with equal enthusiasm, Sasha and Connie down theirs.
You watched as Mikasa leaned over the table, grabbing the bottle and giving it a quick twist. Her hand already grabbing a card. She practically squealed when the bottle landed on Eren.
Eren blinked a few times, leaning back in his chair. “Uh, truth.” He wasn’t in the mood to lick a toilet, or recreate a sex position with Mikasa. “Pour me a drink, too.”
“Who do you care for most in this boat?” Mikasa asked, looking at Eren over her shoulder.
Eren’s eyed you for a second, and immediately the two of you looked away. Reiner looked at Bertolt with the same amount of enthusiasm. “Uh, probably…” Eren sighed, shaking his head, “Hand me the drink.”
Mikasa half laughed while handling Eren the drink. “Okay, weird.” She whispered, “Enjoy your drink.” Eren just nodded, cocking his hand back and swallowing the bitter liquid. Missing the suspicious look Reiner continued to give him.
Why did you look at his sister? In fact, how close had the two of you become since Reiner’s first interaction with Eren? Why was Eren invited to this trip, you were always very particular when it came to the yacht.
During this you nudged Jean, making him turn his attention to you. You leaned into his ear, cupping your mouth and whispering, “Where’s Marco? I thought he went to comfort you after your temper tantrum?”
Jean shoved you away, “He’s probably shitting.”
You shook your head, “Marco doesn't shit, he’s too perfect for that.” You stand up, “I’ll go look for him, no worries.”
“Should I come?” Jean asked.
“No, I’m just trying to get away.” You pushed yourself up, “I’ll grab us some snacks. Want anything in particular?”
“Can make us some burgers, or something?” Sasha pipped in, “I'm getting hungry.”
You just nodded, “Sure, I’ll get our cook to make a little food.” You dusted yourself off, walking to the kitchen. Only to let out a deep sigh you didn’t know you were holding.
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: The kitchen...]ˎˊ
You blinked at Marco, tilting your head to the side. “Uhm, did you…”
“I think I’m going to bed.” He said, his hand softly pressed over his lips. “I think I’m getting sea sick.” You watched as Marco leaned over the sink, slightly swaying in his spot.
You patted his back, “I mean, you refused to eat anything before we got here, so it could be that.” You looked to the side, “You also haven’t had any liquids in your systems besides alcohol.” That last part was more of a whisper to yourself.
Marco gagged, leaning deeper into the sink. “I can’t–I can’t…” He shook his head, “I think I’m going to die.” He gagged again, “Like, I genuinely think I’m going to die, Y/n.” He let his head fall, almost as if he did die on the spot.
You turned your head over your shoulder, looking at the cook in the kitchen. “Hey, uhm, Niccolo, how are those burgers coming along? I think someone is genuinely going to die without your food this time.”
“I’m working on it.” Niccolo grumbled back, tossing a half cooked fry at your head. Which he missed entirely when you swiftly cocked your head to the side. “You either give me a minute, or poison your boyfriend with half cooked food.” You ignored Niccolo’s emphasis on the word “boyfriend.”
“I can’t believe my dad keeps you around.” You rubbed Marco’s back in circles, “I swear, your food better make me orgasim.” You grumbled.
Niccolo threw his knife down, walking around the island table and making his way towards you. You instantly pulled away from Marco, walking close to his face. Niccolo scowled at you, “You know what, choke on this–”
You and Niccolo flinched when you heard Marco dump his stomach onto the sink. “How about after.” You moved to Marco’s side again, “I can’t deal with two sick men right now.”
“I’m not sick.” Niccolo shot back.
“In the head you are.” You told him, grabbing the trays of food. “Thanks for the meal.”
Niccolo rolled his eyes at you, “Whatever.”
You placed a plate by Marco’s side, “When he’s done eating, taking him to one of the rooms upstairs. The one closest to the restroom.” I'm sure he’s going to throw up his stomach tonight. You patted Marco’s back a few times before making your way back to the living room. Holding the plates with the utmost care. Until, a deep voice sparked your attention.
“What would you do if the person you care for the most was in danger?” Reiner asked, looking at Eren over his shoulder. You stopped dead in your tracks. You could see them, but they couldn’t see you. You could also see how the bottle was pointed directly at Eren.
You rolled your eyes, your brother had to pick on the one guy you didn’t want him to bother. A part of you wondered why? Another part of you wondered why you stayed hidden? But, Eren’s answer made your heart jump.
“Anything.” Eren said, the thought of you held by the Armored Titan flashing through his head. His fist clenched, “Absolutely, anything.”
“Right.” Reiner said with a yawn, “What’s a broke college kid going to do?” Reiner softly laughed, “And, ain’t you the kid who went viral for getting his ass beat by the star quarterback?” His eyes flickered to Jean, seeing as he stifled a laugh.
Jean shook his head with a smile, concealing it with his cup. “Shit, I completely forgot about that.” Eren glared at him, to which Jean softly replied, “I mean, is the guy wrong?”
Reiner laughed, but immediately felt his body tense as you leaned over his shoulder, placing the food down on the table. “I promise you, Eren can do a whole lot more than you think.” You laughed, “He’s definitely smarter than the both of you combined.”
Sasha squealed at the food, grabbed a burger and bit into it. Jean shrugged, “That’s also not wrong.” He grabbed a fry from Sasha’s plate, ignoring her cries against it. “I bet Eren could make some kind of poison that is undetectable and kill us both without a trace.”
“Kind of intense, but I appreciate the support nonetheless. Both of you” Eren said, watching as you smiled at him. Mouthing, “Anything for you, babe.” Jean just waved Eren off dismissively.
You grabbed the bottle, placing it on the ground. “Anyways. We’re done for the night, I’m sure everyone is tired.” You ignored Reiner’s protest, “We have to do rooms. We can do a draw, or just pick people we want to sleep with.”
Connie draped his arm over Jean, “I call Jean.”
Jean shook his head furiously, “Don’t. No. Can I refuse?” He tried clawing Connie’s arm off his neck, but nothing moved his bald friend.
You smiled, “Perfect, you two can share the room downstairs with the crew.” You looked at Sasha, and immediately she nodded. “Okay, and Sasha and I can–”
“Let's have Mikasa in our room too!” She shouted, leaning over and reaching for Mikasa’s hand. Mikasa grabbed Sasha’s and nodded, flashing her a kind smile.
You pressed your lips together, before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Mikasa can be in our room too.” You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, twist into something best described as dread. You didn’t even know Mikasa, yet your body already seemed to have the worst reaction to her.
Armin tilted his head back, “We’re sharing a room–”
“Don’t even need to ask.” Eren said, “Put me and Armin together, we have shit to talk.” Eren very obviously looked at Jean, before looking back at you. You just nodded.
“Okay, you’ll take the room upstairs with us.” You pulled Sasha to your side, “Reiner, show Jean and Connie where they’ll be staying.”
“Well. What about us?” Bertholt said, pointing at himself.
“I don’t know, figure it out.” You told him, you used your free arm to grab Eren’s. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t long before everyone was standing in the hall, two rooms on each side. You moved to the right room and looked inside. To your relief, Niccolo had already put Marco in the room with the restroom.
“Okay, this is the room you and Armin will have.” You told Eren over your shoulder, moving away from the door. “We’ll be in the room right across from you.”
Sasha shoved past you, walking into the room, calling over her shoulder, “I call top bunk!” Mikasa smiled at Sasha’s enthusiasm, placing her things on the floor.
Soon enough, it was just you and Eren standing awkwardly. Both doors closed, creating a small environment between you two. “Are you okay?” You softly said, “My brother’s are… stupid.” You rolled your eyes.
Eren laughed, “Yeah, no, it’s okay.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m a little stupid too.” His eyes meet yours, “You’re a little stupid too.”
You shook your head, before biting your bottom lip. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“It’s…” Should you bring up what Eren avoided earlier, or was the moment over? Should you still care, was everything fine now? I mean, the two of you are talking like before again, so shouldn't really care, right? But, you’re still confused. You’re still kind of hurt.
No, just ignore it. Don’t ruin the best thing in your life.
You took a deep breath.
“It’s about us…” Goddamn it Y/n.
Eren felt the air leave his body.
“Are we?...” You looked to the side, “Are we still…” Suddenly, saying the words “best-friend” felt inappropriate, but you forced the words out. “Are we still friends?” You softly asked, “It just–I feel like you don’t like me anymore. Or, we’re just not as close?” You laughed at yourself, “Sorry, I’m being dumb.”
You couldn’t be further from the truth. “What? No. Don’t be. You have nothing to apologize about.” Eren said, his hand cupping your face. “I literally.. adore you.” He sighed, pulling away from you and leaning on the door to his room, “I just–” he sighed, “I just needed some time to think.”
“About?”
You sounded hopeful, Eren noticed. “M-Me.” Eren shouldn’t be lying to you, he already does enough of that. “Us.” He corrected, “I feel it’s kinda’ important to say, possibly can’t wait.”
You bit your bottom lip, nodding your head. “I–” You sigh, “I have been thinking about us too.” You play with your hands, “But, probably unlike you, I’ve been talking to someone about it.”
“Who?” Eren knows the answer, but a part of him doesn’t want to believe it. He’s praying it isn’t the person he’s thinking of.
The person you replaced him with.
“Marco.” You pivoted a foot behind the other, “I met him at Panda Express. We’ve been really close ever since.”
“What’s up with you and Marco?” Eren asked, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt, tugging at it. “You two seem close. Seems like you like him.. more than me.” It’s the painful truth.
You flinched at his words, “What? No, Marco’s–” You shake your head, “This isn’t about Marco, this is about you. Right now, I only care about you. You’re more important to me.” You paused, then reached for his hand, pulling him closer to you. “What’s wrong?”
Eren felt his lips part, but ultimately closed them. He wants to tell you everything, but he can’t tell you everything.
“Tell me, I’ll always be willing to listen.”
Eren cupped your face, his hand slowly making its way behind your ear, guiding you to look up at him. “Y/n… I—“ Eren sighed, his nose touching yours lightly.
“I’m in l—“
The two of you jump at a loud and pained groan, and almost instantly you’re silently cursing at yourself, a worried expression painting your face. “Shit, I forgot.” You pulled away from Eren.
Eren glanced at the door, then to you. “What’s wrong?”
“Marco he is… he’s really sick.” You gave Eren a defeated look, “I’m so sorry, but give me a second. I need to check up on him.” You weakly pushed past Eren and into his room. Silently cursing at yourself, as a worried expression painted your face.
It feels like all the weight in the world is crunching Eren’s heart. To add fuel to the fire, when Eren finally turns to see what you’re doing, he’s physically pained. You’re helping Marco to his feet, arm wrapped around his body and gingerly tugging him to the restroom. Eren heard Marco mumble something, but he knew it was gibberish–
“I know I drank more. I just have a really high tolerance, I already told you how I was freshman year.” You softly cooed at him.
But of course you knew exactly what Marco was saying.
Eren moved into the room while you pushed Marco into the restroom, plopping him on the ground in front of the toilet. You kneeled next to him, whispering something into his ear.
Finally, you got up and moved to Eren, the silence between you is thick. The tension, emotions, and uncertainty is thicker.
You want to continue the conversation, but the tone is different. Eren seemed a bit… different. “Do you want to talk about this in the morning? It’s late and–” You softly laughed, “We’re both really stupid, and maybe a bit tipsy.” You’re hoping your joke would lighten the tension.
Eren doesn't look at you. “Yeah, sure.” He shook his head, “You know what, nevermind. It wasn’t important at all.” He leaned his head back.
You don’t know how to feel, all you know is that your chest hurts. It hurts, and your throat burns. “What?— But I thought…” Eren’s still not looking at you.
So, you stopped yourself, softly sighing and saying, “Okay.” Your footsteps sound heavy, and when the door clicks shut, it feels like the loudest sound in the world.
“Eren.” Armin softly said, grabbing onto his shoulder. “Is everything?...” Eren’s still looking at the roof, his eyes fluttering. Armin softened his voice, “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Eren shook his head, “I’m just tired.”
“Something is clearly—“
“Can you leave me for a goddamn second.” He seethed, “I swear, you’re always up my ass. I don’t need that right now.”
Armin’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry? I’m just looking out for you. It’s not like a few hours ago you were begging for my help.” He pulled away from Eren, “You’re just being emotional right now, rest for a moment before you say something you’ll regret.” He didn’t want to phrase it that way, but the words slipped out.
“Right.”
Marco glanced at the two boys, his eyes heavy and throat sore. It hurt to swallow, so with the little strength he had, and little to no idea what just happened, he asked, “Can someone get me some water, it feels like I’m dying.”
“Right.” Eren stood up, “Let go get some for you.” He still sounded stiff, but still pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the door.
“Eren–” However, Eren already left the room before Armin could even finish his sentence. Armin let his head fall between his shoulders, his glasses hanging low on his nose. “Just do whatever.” He felt his chest squeeze, “Doesn't matter.”
-ˋˏ★ [ Location: The Dock...]ˎˊ
Eren had his wrist crossed, his head hanging low. Wind blowing through his bangs, his eyes closed. The sound of waves crashing against the boat soothed him ever so slightly.
Was he being dramatic? Were his feelings truly too much? It still hurts. It felt like you picked Marco over Eren, but was he in his right to complain?
Eren picked his head up, only to be met with darkness and for some odd reason, it was comforting. His heart still hurt, his head ached, his body felt hot, and… Eren was lying to himself, he felt the exact same way he did when watching you hold Marco.
Eren fisted his hand, hitting his forehead gently. “Fuck.” A part of him wished he could go back in time, fix all the mistakes he’s ever made. However, the question that lingered in his head was… “How far would I go back?”
Eren’s body went cold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing tall.
“You okay?”
Eren snapped his head over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed. He thickly swallowed and mustered out a weak, “Yeah.” But, Eren wasn’t even sure the words passed through his lips. “Sorry, I’ll get out of the way.”
“Are you and Y/n together?” Reiner asked, leaning on the wall “She was different today.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.” Reiner smiled, “I think that was because of you.”
Eren shook his head, “I wish. It was probably because of..” He rolled his eyes, “Her stupid new best friend Marco.”
“No, I’ve lived with Y/n for a few years, I know she was looking at you.” Reiner tilted his head, “Do you like her? I mean, of course you do right.” He laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You were thinking about her when I asked you that question.”
Eren just had the worst luck. Of course the bottle landed on him, and of course Reiner had to be the guy that found Eren heartbroken over his sister. “Maybe. I just–I feel like I’ve messed up. But, I don’t want to..” He groaned to himself, cupping his face with his hands.
Reiner tilted his head, “What?”
“I don’t want to apologize.” Eren let out a breath of air, “I really don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because then it just feels like I’m the bad guy, like I’ve done something wrong.” Why was Eren saying this? He was supposed to keep this to himself. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah.” Reiner looks at the sky, “I get it.”
“Do you?” Eren looked back at the darkness, and this time, it felt like he was trapped. It’s weird how fast something could change.
“Mhm.” Reiner taps the wall, “People do things for a reason, and sometimes you can’t say what they are.” He shrugged his shoulders, “And, you don’t have to tell anyone what the reason is if you don’t want to. Nothing wrong about it.”
Those words stuck to Eren, “You think so?” He just sighed and leaned his head back, “I don’t know. I feel alone, in some weird way.” Eren couldn’t talk to Tony, because it never seemed as if Tony dealt with this. He grasped the Iron-Man suit so well.
Eren could even swing without feeling the uncomfortable dropping sensation in his stomach.
“Yeah, I get it.” Renier nodded, “More than you think.”
Eren looked at Renier and tilted his head, “Really?”
“Yeah.” Renier took a deep breath, taking a step in Eren’s direction. “In the beginning of the year, Bertholdt and I attacked The Rose. Trying to create a cry for help so we could take out Levi Ackerman or Tony Stark.” Reiner laughed to himself, and another wave crashed into the boat.
Eren felt confused, what was Renier talking about? “Wait..” He smiled, putting his hand out to stop Renier from talking, but the words kept coming.
“My brother and I felt alone, but we took comfort knowing we had eachother.” Renier finally looked at Eren, his eyes glowing in the darkness. “I took comfort in knowing there was another monster like me.”
Another wave crashed against the boat.
Renier cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the door next to him. “C’mon. There’s some things we need to talk about.”
Eren shook his head. He couldn’t feel his body, he couldn’t think. “What?” He laughed, but coughed. “What–what are we?... What is… What.” He took a step back, and the railing made his jump, his heart was pounding in his ears. “W-What are we… talking about?”
Reiner narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “The better question is, who are we talking about.”
『 END OF VOLUME FOUR: LONG AWAITED VACATION.. 』: *✧･ﾟ:*✧
#anime#aot fanfiction#aot x y/n#attack on titan#attack on titan fanfiction#rating: mature#eren x reader#eren jeager#attack on titan eren#eren yeager#snk eren#aot#eren aot
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Pretending (or not)
Cassian Andor x reader
Summary: Given Cassian's perpetual distaste for all things merry and festive, his offer to be your fake date for your company's holiday party is surprising, to say the least.
Word Count: 1.3k
Content: modern au, fluff, fake dating, first kiss
Prompt: Fake dating for a work holiday party + confessing feelings
DECK THE HALLS MASTERLIST
Cassian Andor is not a fan of Christmas.
He hates the commercialized commodification of it all.
He hates the bustling madness of the city in the weeks leading up to the holiday.
He hates the soul-crushing anxiety of gift shopping and the unrealistic expectations that accompany it.
He hates the explosion of glitzy decor that decks every hall and the endlessly cheery music that he can’t seem to escape.
And it’s this knowledge that makes his presence at your side now at your work’s holiday party completely and utterly baffling.
–
Last week, Cassian, Bix, and Brasso were gathered in your living room with several boxes of pizza spread out across your coffee table and a movie playing in the background. After peeling away a stray mushroom that had found its way onto the slice in your hands, you’d groaned as your phone screen lit up with an email reminder about the party in question.
“I thought you said Luthen throws great parties, aren’t you usually excited?” Bix had asked.
At that, you’d told them all about your coworker that, as of late, is utterly incapable of taking the hint that you simply aren’t interested in conversing with him, much less spending time with him outside of work. You’ve yet to find a moment to inform your boss of what a bother the man has become, and thus you weren’t keen on subjecting yourself to an entire extracurricular evening in his vicinity. You’d resigned yourself to the only surefire avoidance tactic: skipping the event entirely.
And then Cassian had suddenly spoken four words that left the room's occupants silent for a beat—
“I’ll come with you.”
Brasso had choked on his drink mid-sip, and Bix turned down the volume on the television as she gaped at him.
Despite the fact that everyone in the room was entirely certain that Cassian would never be caught dead at a Christmas party, much less any other festive gathering, he had the gall to shrug as he took in the surprise on the faces surrounding him.
Snatching the abandoned piece of crust on your plate as he often did, he'd taken a bite and shrugged, swallowing before adding, “Well, you need a fake date, right?”
–
The sounds of partygoers animatedly talking and laughing bounce off of the museum’s high ceilings, which are strung to and fro with an exorbitant amount of garland, bows, and soft white lights. You steal a glance over at Cassian, who’s ignoring the assortment of alcohol-fueled, holiday-themed games in the boardroom that the rest of the guests are flocking to in favor of observing a new exhibit that was installed earlier in the month.
Given that he’s far too absorbed reading the placard for the antique biplane roped off in front of him, you let your gaze linger longer than usual on his form for once. You’ve always appreciated Cassian’s rugged winter look—his hair long with rogue, wayward strands and a full, glorious beard adorning his face. After you assured him that he by no means needed to dress up this evening, he’d opted for a dark green flannel shirt that you’d given him for his birthday last year. Paired with black pants that hug his thighs far too well and his brown leather boots that you hardly ever see him without, Cassian just looks really fucking good.
And well, he always looks good.
It’s something that you can’t help but notice, regardless of how desperately hard you try to tamper down the way you feel about him. They’re feelings that fizz out of control like a shaken bottle of soda at times like these, threatening to come pouring out—gravity be damned—should you lose your precarious grip on the lid.
Distracted by your own thoughts, you nearly jump at the feeling of a hand wrapping snugly around your waist. And though you begin to relax when you realize it’s just Cassian, you immediately tense up again at the warmth that crawls up your spine in reaction to the way his fingertips press into your hip bone through the fabric of your dress.
“That’s him, right?”
Your breath hitches in your throat when Cassian brings his lips to the shell of your ear to ask you the question, his breath hot against your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Syril Karn, who’s predictably overdressed as he begins to make his way over to you.
“Yep,” you groan quietly, tone laced with dread.
“Look at me,” Cassian murmurs, letting his fingers skate across the curve of your jaw.
Silent warning bells echo in your head as you turn to him, heart leaping at his close proximity when his nose brushes against yours. It would be far too easy to ki—
Cassian beats you to the punch, his mouth seeking yours out in a slow, tender kiss that sets your insides alight, your nerve endings tingling as his hand slides down the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your skin in a gentle caress.
Your hand finds its way to one of the pockets on the front of his shirt, your fingertips pressing into the cool metal button holding down the flap. Momentarily forgetting that this is all a festive ruse, your mind reels at the feeling of Cassian’s tongue darting out to meet the seam of your lips, and you fist your hand in the material, pulling him closer. He cups the back of your head in return, his soft lips sliding against yours for another moment before you’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, followed by your name.
The two of you break apart, and you will the erratic beating of your heart to slow as you turn to glance at Syril, though your face heats up as you feel Cassian take one of your hands, threading his fingers into yours.
"Syril," you acknowledge him evenly.
“I’m pleased you could make it, I know last week you said you weren’t certain about your plans for the evening,” Syril observes, straightening his collar, though it’s already ironed stiffly enough to poke someone’s eye out.
“Oh. Yeah, it ended up working out. This is Cassian, by the way.” You awkwardly gesture to Cassian, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Syril nods in his direction. “Ah, are you a friend?”
Cassian stiffens beside you. “Boyfriend, actually.”
He tries to hide it, but Syril blanches for a split second, though he quickly composes himself, clasping his hands together. “How lovely. Is this...new?”
On the drive over, you’d come up with a vague story about getting together recently, if anyone were to ask. But just as you go to open your mouth to tell Syril exactly that, Cassian interrupts, “Not at all. It’s been a few years, actually.”
Syril’s clearly deflated at this point, shoulders drooping, and after another few minutes of failed small talk, he mumbles an excuse to make himself scarce, ambling away in the opposite direction.
You turn to Cassian, almost annoyed by how easily it had been to ward off Syril in comparison to every other overbearing interaction you’ve ever had with him—as if your lack of interest alone wasn’t enough of a valid reason without the addition of a fake relationship. Crossing your arms, you’re on the verge of griping about it, but the words die on your lips when you catch the odd look on his face.
“I can’t pretend anymore,” he breathes out.
Your heart sinks. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, we can go—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Cassian takes your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles, and he continues, “I can’t keep lying to myself about the way I feel about you.”
You sway slightly on your feet. Carefully, you ask, “And…how do you feel about me?”
He leans in, his chest brushing against yours as he brings a tentative hand up to the side of your face. “I want to kiss you when nobody’s watching, too. I want this to be real.”
His mouth hovers near yours, a breath away. Waiting.
“It is,” you whisper, a tidal wave of emotions thrumming in your chest as you close the distance between your lips and his.
—
Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!
» CASSIAN ANDOR MASTERLIST
#deck the halls with dameronscopilot#cassian andor#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor x reader#diego luna fanfiction#star wars fanfiction
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War not won
Julian trying to hide being sick. Ryan provokes him to make him admit it. Cue comfort at the end.
-----
Julian hated being sick. It just didn't feel right anymore. Before, he wouldn't worry about it. Simply accept your fate, make precautions, inform people and get better as soon as possible.
He was always reasonable like that.
That was before and a lots of things were different, but this was the worst one. Cause he felt like a total burden for feeling off, for not bringing his A game and he felt terrible for a day he couldn't keep up with Ryan or follow him around.
He felt like he owned him so much. Fun, friendship, company, motivation, anything. Being sick was an excuse he ceased to have a right at.
So if Julian was sick, there was no way he was telling Ryan. He excused himself from classes right from morning, skipped practice at the gym and relied on Ryan having long day till evening and not catching on. He would surely get better until then.
It was difficult to keep the positive attitude when his stomach was cramping so hard. All he managed was to get a plastic bag to his bed and curl up on it under the blankets. He was shivering although the room felt stuffy and hot. Clothes were soaked in a minute and he felt like he couldn't breathe, or sleep because of the annoying sun knifing at him from the window. But standing up and pulling the curtain was too much effort, so he stayed put, hoping to sweat this out.
Julian finally managed to fall asleep around noon, when Ryan burst into the room.
"Whatcha doing, lazy ass? Didn't see you at lunch."
Julian blinked, eyes feeling heavy, and suppressed the urge to groan. Just when the sweet ignorance of sleep was falling on him!
"Was too hot. Wanted to take a break today." He always tried to normalise breaks these days, so Ryan wouldn't feel bad for needing some. Not that Ryan ever did take a break. Recovering from a wound was fine, but he wasn't willing to take things slowly after finally getting a yes from his doctor about resuming training.
"Yeah?" Ryan eyed him critically. "Cause you look weird. Sure you are alright?"
"I'm sure." Julian said, directing all his remaining strength into a calm stare. Ryan watched him for a few tense seconds, then shrugged.
"Fine then. Let's take a break. What about some music?"
Ryan flopped himself over to the small armchair they managed to squeeze between tables and the bed and dripped on TV.
Julian clenched his teeth. His head was pounding in the rhythm of his heart and his stomach felt tight and angry, churning loudly. Music would hide the noise, but he really really just wanted to suffer in peace.
Ryan put on his YouTube playlist on the TV and even put the volume up, whistling with the melody.
Julian turned his head to the wall angrily. The music was too loud, shaking him. As if the instruments played just to rile every molecule of his body. He was also getting nauseous from the heat again.
Curse Ryan and his stupid music and his stupid timing...was he doing it on purpose?
"You want a song of your own? Huh, Julian?"
Oh this was bad. He was calling him by his whole name.
Julian actually did throw the pillow over his head then. His mouth was pooling with saliva and something was climbing up his throat. He slowed it down quickly, but the nausea was like a blanket now, crawling up his arms, his neck, his ears.
The drums and the guitar joined the chorus of voices and Julian wanted to vomit then and there.
The horrible realisation made him shoot up into a sitting position, only to sway dizzily as he tried to stand up. Blood rushed into his head and his vision blacked out for a minute as he tried to catch his balance.
"Julian?" Ryan's voice was innocent, but he was watching him intensely.
Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick. He chanted in his head. The water he drank in the morning was climbing up, with a terrible mushy aftertaste...
He stumbled to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The white tiles were all turning and moving around and the yellow light cut into his eyes. He braced himself on the sink, trying to breathe through the nausea, but it wasn't helping at all.
Julian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to swallow it down, to hold it, but the vomit rushed out of his mouth with a cramp. All he could do was lean forward and let it happen, as warm water spilled out.
The cramps were terrible. Why was it hurting so much, when he was already vomiting? He burped and another wave of sick rushed past his mouth and into the sink.
He remembered himself then and got the water running to muffle the noises. He wasn't a particularly loud puker, so maybe this could slide...
Worse thing was the dizziness. He couldn't tell which way was down anymore. Stars danced behind his eyes and the sink was slipping from his fingers.
"Juls." Ryan's steady voice was like an anchor in the storm. Julian blinked, tried to focus his eyes, but his vision was still sparkling black and another hot wave of water blew out of his lips. His legs gave out.
"Whoa. I got you, man. Sit down, sit down." Strong hands gripped his shoulders as he sank to the tiled floor. Ryan was steading him, slowing his fall.
Julian was blinking rapidly until his vision cleared slowly. The world was still spinning, but at least he could recognise the bathroom ceiling again.
He was crouched on the floor, back leaning against Ryan's chest. Ryan held his upper body, hands on his upper arms from behind. "You here with me?"
That's when he felt coldness on his shirt. He puked right all over himself as he lost his balance.
Mortification tightened his throat, but he was still too confused and scared. Heat settled on his face and he felt the prickle of tears.
"Ryan, I-" he burped loudly and groaned as his stomach spasmed again. "I-I d-don't feel good."
"I knew you were sick. Why can't you admit it right away? Seriously. You are supposed to be the reasonable one." Ryan squeezed his shoulders where he held them.
"It's all on my shirt..." He hated how whiny his voice got.
"Shhh. I know." Ryan helped him sit up and them positioned him to lean against the shower bath. Then he took the rims of his shirt. "Arms up."
Julian was left shiver without his shirt, feeling pukey and gross and the worst burden in the world.
Ryan held up a wet towel to his face and dabbed at his cheek and chin. "There you go. All better."
Julian bit his lip hard, feeling the dizziness subside but the nausea rose up again. Rocked him like a boat. He burped and then gagged all over.
Ryan held the towel under his chin as bile and water caught on to it. The blond wasn't fazed at all, even swiping the bile from his lip with the clean end of the towel again.
"Aww man. You are really sick, huh?"
Tears spilled down his eyes then. He was just a filthy producer of bodily fluids today. His nose clogged up from the strain.
Ryan discarded the towel and sat down beside him, arm going around Julian, pulling him close. Julian's head ended up on his shoulder. "It's okay, man. You are okay. Don't cry," Ryan said.
Julian gave up. He tried to spare Ryan this, tried to be helpful, but he always ended up being helped instead. It wasn't fair.
So he cried into Ryan's chest, hating how much the touch and closeness loosened the tightness in his stomach. It was the first time he could breathe all day.
"There you go. Deep breaths."
Julian sniffled, and Ryan got him toilet paper to blow his nose into. Ryan's hand was running up and down his upper arm.
He felt better, not being alone in this.
Like the war wasn't won, but couldn't be lost anymore.
#whump#emeto#emetophilia#sickfic#emeto writing#hurt comfort#bromance#vomiting#wip: guarded hearts#my writing#I'm on a roll this week#also tips and feedback very welcome#trying to improve
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So one of the coolest bits of animanga ephemera that I own is probably these two volumes of the Epic Comics printing of AKIRA.
In 1988, American comics publishers were starting to take notice of the growing popularity of Japanese animation, and Marvel wanted a slice of the pie. A few years earlier, they had made the Epic Comics imprint to run more adult stories free of Comics Code censorship, including both standalone titles and non-canonical spinoffs of their more popular characters. The fledgling imprint seemed like the perfect place for a slice of that cool, weird Japanamation pie. They set their sights on Katsuhiro Otomo's AKIRA, which had done well in Japan and was set to get film adaptation that year. The editor of Epic at the time felt that the disaffected youth, psychic powers, and post-apocalyptic sci-fi setting would be familiar enough touch points to make the series resonate with American readers.
However, Epic didn't think that American comics readers would be as drawn to something that read "backwards" and was black and white. So, they did what would become the standard for many years- they flipped the pages to read left-to-right. They then enlisted colorist Steve Oliff to create a full-color version of AKIRA. While it's easy to jump to thinking of this as a butchering of the original work, Otomo was actually fully on board, as he wanted his work to reach as many people as possible. Otomo collaborated with Oliff directly at first, flying out to meet with him and share some of his personal desires for the coloring. He had some initial color guides, stills from the as-of-yet unreleased movie, and a deep passion and desire for his work to do well in the west. For the first five or six issues, Oliff sent all of his colorings off to Otomo for approval, but after that, Otomo was pleased enough that he gave Oliff free reign to go with his instincts for the rest of the comic's run. The colored version was even re-licensed, flipped back to the Japanese order, and released in Japan! I've never seen any copies of that, but I bet it's cool as hell!
I got these as a Christmas present sometime in the mid '00s from my Aunt Ing and Uncle David, who knew I liked anime and manga, but knew absolutely nothing about the stuff. They picked them up at a garage sale in DC for pocket change, and gave them to me along with a second hand copy of the DEVILMAN live action movie from 2004. I clearly remember them saying something along the lines of "Here, I hope you like this! We know you like that manga stuff. Hopefully 'Akira' isn't Japanese for like hardcore donkey porn or something, hahaha!" ...As if you couldn't flip the book open and see what was in it for yourself, Uncle David?
(Also worth noting that I had already seen the Akira movie at this point, so it's not like I didn't know what I was getting into!)
The manga (and the not-long-after release of the anime) made AKIRA a hit in the states. The Epic Comics run split the series into 38 issues that ran from 1988 to 1994. However, the legacy of Epic's colored run has an influence outside of just helping to introduce this iconic series to American readers.
It was also one of the first digitally colored comics.
Oliff and his company, Olyopitcs, were pioneers in using digital coloring methods. While he made initial color guides on paper versions of the pages using traditional methods like pantone films and paint, the finalized versions were all colored digitally, allowing for a wide, rich range of colors. This style of coloring incentivized Marvel to print it on slightly higher quality paper, and the series' success made Marvel more interested in looking to computers as a way to enhance their art and workflow. Perhaps he overstates it a bit, but Oliff credits his Eisner award-winning run as the colorist for AKIRA as the turning point for digital art's acceptance in comics.
It's unlikely that the colored version of AKIRA will ever be re-released, as the rights that Marvel held have LONG since traded hands, first to Dark Horse and then back to Kodansha. Copies of the colored version of AKIRA are hard to come by and pricy now, ranging from $10-100 for a single issue on eBay depending on condition and what particular issue it is (climactic issues are obviously more expensive than more laid back ones). It's not completely out of the question that it'll see the light of day again, however; Oliff still has all the digital files of the colored version of AKIRA, and he has expressed that he would be more than happy to have them reprinted if Kodansha wished to.
If not, though, I still have my two issues, and a very cool piece of anime localization history.
Historical info for this post was fact checked/sourced from this Japan Times article from their 30th anniversary retrospective and this 2016 ANN interview with Oliff. Feel free to check them out if you want to know more!
#long post#Akira#akira (1988)#katsuhiro otomo#fandom#anime history#fandom history#localization#localization history#comics history#doetalks#anime#manga
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A Different Shade of RWBY: Volume 2 - Chapter 15
RWBY - Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Read From the Beginning
Summary:
What if happily ever after was just the start of something greater? What if fate was waiting right around the corner? Nearly a year after circumstances brought Yang, Blake, Weiss, and Ruby together, sinister forces will seek to tear them apart.
Read on AO3 | Read on FF.net
Weiss was walking down a hallway on the twenty-ninth floor of the Schnee Dust Company’s headquarters like a soldier marching to a court-marshal. It was the morning after the White Fang attack, and Weiss was certain it was going to be an interesting day for all the wrong reasons. Ruby was walking beside her. There wasn’t strictly a need for Ruby to be there, but Weiss did not intend to face today alone.
Weiss walked up to her office’s door. Then she paused and looked at Ruby.
Ruby briefly pulled her scroll out of her pocket, but after a quick glance at its screen, she put it away again.
“No luck yet?” Weiss asked.
“No,” Ruby said. She turned to the door in front of them and asked, “Are you ready for this?”
“We’ll soon find out,” Weiss said.
Weiss pushed her office’s door open and walked inside with Ruby in tow. Rosalie was at her desk as expected, and also as expected, May was standing there in the reception area as well. She was pacing back and forth, but she stopped the moment she saw Weiss. She said, “Miss Schnee! What were you—!?”
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Matchmaker, Matchmaker - N. Horan + S. Mendes + Lewis C. Imagine
NOTE: this one features Lewis (in case you didn't catch it in the title) as reader's love interest in this imagine. If you're not into that, don't worry. Like my other platonic fics this can be read as a separate piece and with the others. warnings, this is not my best writing and niall is not the best wingman. lewis is also a cheeky shit. here we go!
TAGLIST: @sinceweremutual @theshyspy @sunriseholland @swiftmendeshoran @fedorable-killjoys @littlekidsteve @treadinglifeorslowlydrowning @mendesblurb
SUMMARY: in which your roommate discovers a secret relationship conspiring between you and your other roommate's BFF
It was another slow afternoon in the apartment. Shawn languidly strolled through the front door following his gym session, bare-chested and clad in sweatpants with slip-on shoes he had grown accustomed to sliding against the welcome mat upon entry. After sending Niall a small greeting when he entered the living room, he paused.
“Hey, you haven’t seen my speaker anywhere have you? The small, red one?” Niall’s concentrated stare peels away from the flat screen mounted to the wall, and the strumming of his calloused fingertips on guitar strings halted.
“Didn’t you lend it to Y/N a few days ago?” Shawn’s eyes flicker around in thought before his pointer finger and thumb meet in a snap. He points at Niall victoriously.
“I did. Thanks, man.” His pace is now eager when he reaches your room. So eager for the portable speaker you kindly borrowed for a beach day earlier in the week, Shawn forgot to knock on your door. Little noise could be heard on the other side as he approached your bedroom door, other than an R&B mix playing on low volume.
“Hey, Y/N are you through with m–MY EYES, HOLY SHIT!” Shawn turns to face the bedroom door he just entered through as you attempt to shield the sight of your nude body, as well as your boyfriend. Thankfully, your boyfriend’s ass took up most of Shawn’s vision, leaving the image of your naked frame–mostly–up for interpretation.
“Shawn!” You squeal, before biting. “We talked about knocking.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you had company. At least warn me and Niall next time you have someone over. A text, a sock on the door, something!” The man pleads.
“Niall’s here?!” Shawn catches a hint of fright in your voice, overlapped by a deeper exclamation demanding the same question. One that sounded familiar to Shawn.
“Yeah…he came home early. Why is…” He turns around and is blanching all over again at the sight of Lewis’s face, reddened and dazed beside yours which is holding the same expression. Everything below your collarbones is decently covered by a white sheet.
“Lewis–wait a minute. You two?” Shawn’s finger raises accusingly and wags back and forth between you and Lewis. Embarrassed by being caught, you find yourself sinking further down below the top sheet. “How long has this been happening?”
You and Lewis share a look, before turning back to face Shawn. “You remember the night we went out for drinks and Niall invited Lewis so I could finally meet him?” Niall thought it only fair to introduce you to one of his best friends since you are responsible for showing him Lewis’s music. Shawn nods, but still has difficulty putting the pieces together.
“Yeah, but Lewis left separately and the rest of us took a cab home.” Shawn recounts unless he had too much to drink. But his memory from that night near a year ago remains pretty clear.
“Right, well later that night…”
☆★☆★☆★☆★
Normally the amount of alcohol you consumed hours prior would be enough to put you to sleep, but you were restless in your bed. Counting sheep was useless, and you were in a drought of sleeping medication. Of course, you could go knocking on Shawn and Niall’s bedroom doors but something told you that the pattering rain outside sang them lullabies as soon as they crawled into their beds.
You resorted to a quest into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Luckily, there were still some packets of a lavender chamomile blend begging for some attention, and a new tea kettle you needed to test after your old one had become too retired. Amidst the kettle aiding to heat the water, you reached up into one of the cabinets for a comfortable-sized mug. Halfway through bringing it down from the shelf, it practically tumbles out of your grasp as three loud knocks are deposited onto your front door.
“Jesus,” you breathe out, resting a hand against your chest. You turn to eye the clock on the stove and spare a suspicious look back towards the door. “Who could be here at eleven at night?” You creep towards the front door and bravely stand on your toes to take a look out of the peephole. Standing outside of your door is the prime reason you haven’t been able to sleep, you just haven't realized it yet.
You pull the door back to reveal Lewis, dripping wet onto the carpeted flooring of your apartment building and clutching something in his fist.
“H-hey Lewis…whatcha doin’ here?” You eye him up and down, and truthfully–you don’t mind taking your time while you do it.
“I came to drop this off. Seems important…” He lifts a hand to offer you a closer peek at your purse. A gasp leaves you as you snatch it from him in a haste and dig through it. Your wallet, sunglasses, lip gloss…everything you carried with you is still in its rightful place. Before you can think about it, you are then grappling Lewis’s body to embrace yours with a grateful exclamation being muffled into his dripping wet t-shirt.
“You’re soaking…did you walk here?” Your eyebrows shoot up as he looks down shamefully at his damp, lace-up sneakers.
“Yeah, I don’t know how to hail a cab…but I did know Niall’s address so I figured he could drop the bag off to you when he got the chance. I didn’t realize you lived here as well. Niall never told me you two were…”
He trails off before your conversation is interrupted by a whistling tea kettle pouring out steam.
“Here, come in and let me grab you a towel.” On your way to fetch a towel for Lewis, you also turn off the tea kettle from the stovetop and call out to him, “feel free to help yourself to a cup. I added way too much water, anyways.”
When you return with the fluffiest towel you could find, Lewis is warming himself up with a cup of tea in a mug, while simultaneously filling the mug you brought down with a glass. When you offer him a towel, he slides your mug towards you, with a small “thanks” leaving both of you.
“Jinx,” you say. “I’d say you owe me a soda but I’m trying to cut down on my caffeine.” You murmur through a sip of chamomile. Lewis wraps the towel around himself and chuckles.
“A tea, then, whenever I see you next.” He proposes. You hold up your mug to clink it against his, sealing the promise.
“Yeah, where’s your next stop on tour?” You silently lead him to the couch where the two of you continue to jabber. About his life, about yours, and about the two men you clarify, later on, are just your roommates.
“It’s purely platonic with us. In fact, there is nobody on my radar right now.”
“Oh,” Lewis mutters.
“Oh, what? Is that good or bad?”
“Oh as in…I hope we see each other again soon.” You tilt your head at him. “If no one’s on your radar right now I at least have a fighting chance with that cup of tea I owe ya.” He admits while a harsh red fire overcomes the apples of his cheeks.
“I think this cup of tea may have just put you in first place for potential suitors, Mr. Capaldi.” His eyebrows shoot up, interested. Invested. Determined.
“Well damn…now you got me wishing New York was my last stop.” He shakes his head, while you giggle and hide back an excited squeal all at once.
☆★☆★☆★☆★
“Awww….” Says Shawn, before his face morphs back into semi-disgust. “Wait, don’t tell me you two did it on the couch.”
“No!” You answer, slightly offended. “We decided we wouldn’t act on anything until he came back to New York. So, we didn’t see each other again until the interview he and Ni did a few months ago at Vanity Fair…”
☆★☆★☆★☆★
“Boo.” A voice behind your ear startles you away from the poppy seed muffin you were devouring with glutton. The sandy hair and freckles, after washing over you like an old song almost caused you to choke.
“Lewis!” Crumbs creep out of your mouth and latch onto your cheeks as you fly into his chest for a long-awaited hug. Keeping things friendly until his return was a difficult request for both of you to follow through with. Especially after trading numbers and sending several texts back and forth weekly, then daily. And some of those texts did not hold the most innocent intentions…
“Easy, dear. You’re gonna make me drop your prize.” He offers a loose hug in return, to not tip over the piping cup of tea occupying one of his hands.
“The tea…you remembered.” Part of you was impressed, as the two of you were fairly tipsy the night the promise was made. The tea is transferred from his hand to yours.
“How could I not? I needed some way to keep my first place in line for your potential suitors.” One of his eyelids droops lazily into a wink. “Speaking of which…” His palm, still warm from the tea and callus from guitar strings gently cups your chin, and his thumb comes up to sweep crumbs from your face. “Where do I currently stand?”
Before you could answer, the two of you were rudely interrupted by a familiar Irishman skipping over and reaching between the two of you to grab a tablet off the table.
“So, Assistant Producer Y/L/N, what activities do you have lined up for us today?” Niall quirks an eyebrow smugly, attempting to unlock the tablet holding the agenda for the video. Still flustered from Lewis’s previous actions, it takes a few seconds for you to clear your throat and muster a response.
“Nothing you need to know about until the cameras start rolling. But keep using the title, I like the sound of it.” You grin, embracing your new promotion to Assistant Producer at the Vanity Fair Studio. It was a long-awaited step-up, but so well worth it.
“Congratulations,” Lewis says, attempting to appear friendly. Neither man knew, but the day you got promoted, Lewis was the first person you called to break the news to. Niall and Shawn followed shortly after since they were concerned about the amount of screaming coming from your room for ten minutes straight. Once assuring your roommates your hollers were all out of excitement and sharing your new position with them, the three of you screamed for ten minutes more.
“Thanks,” Niall and Lewis were called to be in front of the cameras shortly after, while you followed with the tablet in your hand. You looked around for Laura, who typically allows you to follow and observe how she produces. When she is nowhere in sight, you immediately felt lost.
“Um…” you turn to whisper to the director. “Where’s Laura? She’s always on time.”
“She didn’t tell you?” The director inquires, shock covering his face. “She’s out with food poisoning. You’ll be filling in as head producer.” If you had any poppy seed remnants left in your mouth, now you would be choking on them.
“Me? A-all by myself?”
“Yeah, you’ll be fine. You’ve seen her do it a million times.” This is true. Laura’s even let you take the lead on some occasions, like giving the interviewees a run-down of the video and its purpose. She’s allowed you to call out some questions to the guests too. But running an entire interview on your own without her correcting you every step of the way is pressuring.
“O-okay,” is all you can utter before approaching Niall and Lewis. The sound guy has finished taping the mics to the two of them. You follow sound check procedures as well as give them a rundown of what the video entails. It is easy for Niall to grasp the concept, as he has seen Zac Efron’s and Lily Collins' videos with similar activities to the ones they’d be performing today. Throughout the video, you become paranoid that Niall is somehow catching on to you and Lewis being flirtatious with one another. You are unsure what drove him to talk you up to his pal, but he was taking every opportunity.
“So, how did you two meet?” You ask Niall, while Lewis stands behind the camera in comfortable proximity to you. A devious smirk crawls onto Niall’s face as he answers.
“My roommate introduced me to his music…I DM’ed him…and the rest is history.”
There was more to Niall’s answer than that, but that was all your ears could catch from Lewis’s stare burning into the side of your face.
One of Lewis's hands shields his mic as he leans close to your ear. “I’m guessin’ he isn’t talkin’ about Shawn.”
And when it came to trading compliments, Niall credited you for being the main interior designer for your shared apartment when Lewis acknowledged how he liked the inside of “Niall’s flat”
Lewis was no better in hiding his flirtatious nature from you.
“I’m not talkin’ about the furniture.”
And when it came time for the two men to share a long embrace, Lewis gave up completely on hiding his cheeky side.
“Tell me how the hug is for you.” You request.
Lewis replies without hesitation. “Yours is better, I can tell you that.”
☆★☆★☆★☆★
"You do give really good hugs." Shawn agrees with a thoughtful nod.
"Right?" Lewis pipes up from beside you.
“Anyways, after he left that second time, we decided a couple of weeks later that we didn’t want to stay just friends. Now that he’s back in town–”
“You could say we’ve been catching up,” Lewis interjects with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows. While you find it endearing, it makes Shawn hold back a gag.
“Yeah, I got that part.” He mutters distastefully. Right at this time is when heavy footsteps begin approaching your bedroom door, and send you and Lewis into a panic.
“Oh no.” You and Lewis mumble, clenching each other’s hands beneath the sheets.
“Oh no? Wait, you haven’t told Niall yet?” Shawn whispers, jutting his thumb back towards your cracked door.
“OF COURSE NOT!” You whisper back harshly. “I’m his roommate. He’s his best friend. If things don’t work out it’s gonna be awkward.”
“What’s going on here? Some secret meeting?” Niall’s voice becomes louder as he peeks his head through the doorway to see the back of Shawn’s head, and to the right of it, you and your boyfriend’s cowering figures beneath your bedsheets.
“Lewis…wait a minute–you two?” Niall points back and forth. You nod your head hesitantly, before Niall’s finger curls back into a fist that he pumps into the air victoriously. “YES! FINALLY!”
You and Lewis exchange a look of surprise. “You’re okay with this?” Lewis asks.
“Okay with it? I’m over the moon! I’ve been wanting this to happen since the two of you met at the bar. Why do you think I talked her up to ya so much over the phone before ya came?”
“Wait, you talked me up?” You look over to Lewis conspicuously, before turning back to face Niall. “What exactly did you say?”
☆★☆★☆★☆★
“So it’s just you and Shawn?” Lewis’s voice crackles over the phone pressed against Niall’s ear.
“Yup! Oh, and Y/N. You’ll like her. She’s nice.” Niall chuckles as he finishes buttoning up his shirt.
“Alright, mate. See ya in a bit.” The two depart from the phone call, and Niall looks at himself in the mirror, satisfied.
“Yes, you will.”
THE END
☆★☆★☆★☆★
remember to reply or message me to be added to the “purely platonic” taglist, and also send me any roomie concepts you’d like me to write about! :) <3
#Shawn mendes#niall horan#lewis capaldi#Shawn mendes fanfiction#Shawn mendes imagine#Shawn mendes imagines#Shawn mendes blurbs#Shawn mendes blurb#shawn mendes oneshot#Shawn mendes fluff#Shawn mendes angst#Shawn mendes x reader#Shawn mendes x y/n#niall horan fanfiction#niall horan imagine#niall horan imagines#niall horan blurb#niall horan blurbs#niall horan fluff#niall horan angst#niall horan oneshot#niall horan x reader#niall horan x you#niall horan x y/n#lewis Capaldi fanfiction#lewis Capaldi imagines#lewis Capaldi imagine#lewis Capaldi fluff#lewis Capaldi angst
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Play to Win, pt 3
Frank Castle x reader
Masterlist here
A polite and thoughtful home invasion
After the case ended things went back to normal. Well as normal as things could be after the biggest case of their career. In the midst of the trial she had moved offices to be closer to Nelson and Murdock. Her apartment was in Hell’s Kitchen already so it was a shorter commute.
Despite not working on the same cases, it was beneficial to have like minded people around to bounce ideas off of. She became closer with the three, bonding over their shared profession.
After the trial Frank was given multiple life sentences but he did manage to avoid the death penalty. From what she had heard, he was in a maximum security prison. She hadn’t taken the time to visit him yet, not knowing what she could possibly say. He had mentioned breaking out in the past but she didn’t think that was an option.
She hated to imagine how things could be, but she couldn’t help wishing that he would come home one day. Not that he had any home with her, however much she liked to think he would. Whenever she let her mind wander she imagined wandering around New York with him. When she had dinner with Karen and the guys it felt like there was an empty seat. Something inside of her knew he was meant to be in her life and sooner or later she’d have to come to terms with that.
It wasn’t easy having him locked up, but she felt better knowing he was safe at least. That’s why she was so shocked when she got the news of what had happened.
She came into work a little late with a coffee for Karen. Matt and Foggy whined about her not having one for them but they shut up when she handed them pastries. “You two don’t need to be any more wired,” she had stated.
After a brief morning conversation, she retired to her office. Most of the day was paperwork and looking through potential clients. She hadn’t taken any new cases since Frank, not feeling inspired by her work like she used to be.
At lunch she went back over to the other office. She figured she would sit with Karen and eat her pasta salad with some company after spending all day alone.
“Have you gone to see him?” she asked, questioning her words as she said them. Frank had been a sort of elephant in the room ever since the case. She thought about him constantly but she was sure she was the only one.
“No. I’m not going to. Matt says it’s not a good idea,” Karen replied, gritting her teeth. There was clearly something more there than she was saying but she wasn’t going to push for more information.
“Oh,” she replied, putting an end to the less than lively conversation.
The TV was quiet in the background as they ate. Things were falling apart at the firm, Matt hadn’t been showing up lately and Foggy was downright pissed. He was there that day at least, pacing around the conference room. He had something on his mind but what else was new?
He turned the volume on the TV up enough for the rest of the room to hear. At first she was annoyed by the loud intrusion, until she realized what was playing on tv.
The rest was incoherent mumbling after she heard those dreaded words “prison riot” “Frank Castle” “dead” She was so in shock, the news took a moment to register, but when it finally hit her it hit hard.
she held back a sob, reaching for hold on the corner of a table. Her grip was white knuckled as she fought a wave of nausea. “I’m going home,” she shouted before hastily grabbing her things and rushing out of the office.
She was stopped at the door by Matt Murdock. “Hey calm down,” he started, grabbing her wrist gently.
She twisted her arm out of his grip but he caught the other one easily. The motion shoved her into his chest so he could wrap his arms around her. “Just breathe. I know you’re upset but it’s going to be ok. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Fuck you. Let. Me. Go.” She said each word separately. Her voice was loud and assertive, not yet shaky from the tears that would inevitably start falling as soon as she was out of the office.
“Please.” His arms were tight around her and she cursed the way she craved the gentle embrace. After everything that had happened she really needed a good hug.
“Let me go, Murdock.” Her words were softer this time, losing the will to fight. His hands smoothed over her back, before he reluctantly let go. He knew she was distraught but if she wanted to leave he wasn’t going to keep her there.
“Call me when you get home,” he added as she left.
“Fuck you,” she sobbed, no real anger in her voice just pain. He let her walk out the door knowing she likely wouldn't call him. For someone as emotional as her, she never let anyone know what she was feeling. And she certainly didn’t let anyone help.
Multiple hours later and with thirty missed calls in total from Foggy, Matt, Karen, and the District Attorney, she was alone in her kitchen. Her hands were shaking around a cup of coffee. It was probably 2 or 3 in the morning but she had no interest in sleeping.
She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late. When she felt a hand on her shoulder she flailed her arms wildly, her coffee mug shattering on the floor. Then she was lifted off the ground and shoved against the fridge, a hand cradling the back of her head to protect her skull. Whoever this home intruder was, they were very thoughtful.
Her eyes were screwed shut as she shook in fear, not bothering to fight back. “Babydoll, it’s just me.” Her eyes snapped open at his voice.
“You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you. I need ya to calm down for me.” He wrapped himself impossibly tighter around her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try and comfort her.
Once she realized it was him, the pressure of his body against hers and his hands gripping her figure felt like less of an intrusion. “Frank?” she gasped like she was seeing a ghost. In a way she was, less than a minute ago she thought he was dead. Now he was in her apartment very real and very alive and very much squishing her against the hard stainless steel door of her fridge.
“Yeah sweetheart. I’m here. You’re ok.” As nice as it was to be encased in his arms, she couldn’t ignore the fact that his firm weight against her was cutting off her airflow.
“Frank,” she repeated, squirming as much as she could when she was bracketed by the two steel walls of muscle that were his arms.
“Mmm,” he mumbled, not subtle about the way he was soaking in the only human contact he had in months apart from fighting. She had a strange urge to let him stay like that, his entire large heavy body pressed against her. She knew he wouldn't admit it, but it seemed to comfort him.
“You’re squishing me,” she whined, pushing at his chest weakly. He instantly let go of her, stepping back to give her room.
“Sorry. Look I know you're scared.” She was shaking but it wasn’t from fear, at least not in that moment. She was jittery from multiple cups of coffee, despite not being a huge fan of caffeine.
“I’m not,” she replied bluntly, crossing her arms and examining him. He was wearing mostly black but she could tell he had multiple wounds which he was bleeding from. In the dim light of the kitchen she could also make out the faint outline of bruises on his face which would show themselves more severely later.
“Maybe you should be,” he grumbled. She rolled her eyes at his melodramatic phrasing.
“You’re so dramatic. Alright let’s get you cleaned up, tough guy,” she offered, still concerned about the bruises and cuts littering his body.
She led him to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from above the sink. When she turned back to him he was sitting on the edge of the tub sans his blood soaked shirt.
In another circumstance she would take a moment to appreciate his physique because he was a goddamn specimen of a man if she'd ever seen one. Her hands brushed over his chest, getting lost in the sheer state of him. She wondered how he was even alive not to mind walking and talking. She didn’t miss how he flinched as her hands touched a particularly sore spot.
“Hey sugar. I lost ya for a second. What’s wrong?” He asked softly, grabbing her face and making her look at his eyes instead of the numerous nasty wounds on his torso.
“You’re hurt. Like really hurt,” she blurted out her eyes darting from his eyes to the bruises on his face quickly as she struggled to comprehend the situation.
“Yeah I’m a little roughed up. Nothin new,” he assured her, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. He seemingly forgot his hands were covered in blood, spreading it over her face although neither of them noticed at the time.
“Frankie,” she sighed, putting her hands over his. She shook her head and stepped away from him. For a second she closed her eyes tight and tried to steady her breathing. He stood back up and his hands fell to her hips, holding her steady so her knees didn’t buckle under the stress.
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry to come to you with all this.” He rubbed his thumb on a spot of her hip when her shirt had ridden up. He almost chuckled at the way she sighed and loosened her tense body at the contact. He was no stranger to being touch starved so he didn’t bother to bring attention to it.
“I’m fine, it’s fine. Just sit down please, let me help you.” He obliged, still reluctant to have her do this when it made her so clearly uncomfortable. It’s not like he had much choice since it seemed like she wasn’t going to let him go without surveying his injuries and taking care of them. Even if the whole process made her a bit queasy.
Cleaning and bandaging his wounds was a painstaking process. He was more beaten up than she could have imagined. She tried to be as gentle as possible but she could see he was in pain. Her non-dominant hand swept over his shoulders, rubbing tiny circles on his back and arms. It wasn’t going to change the fact she was pouring rubbing alcohol on his open wounds but it was a nice distraction.
“Are these going to need stitches?” she asked, knowing full well the answer was yes. This wasn’t her first rodeo but in her defense it had been a while.
So her wave of nausea was appropriate when he replied, “Yep.” He looked down at her apologetically, silently thanking her with a nod of his head.
Her shaking hands got to work stitching the cuts. He noticed the way she trembled and he grabbed her other hand in his, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. She didn’t mind the interruption, grateful for his grounding presence. “You’re doin so good. This here's the last one.”
When she finished the final stitch she stood up and turned away, lurching toward the sink. After taking a quick look at her profile in the mirror and noticing blood staining her face she almost fell to the floor. She was only held up by the firm hands on her hips. “S’alright. I gotcha.”
“I’m gonna be sick,” she whined, scrambling over to kneel in front of the toilet. He followed her, sitting behind her with her hair scrunched up in his hand like a makeshift ponytail.
“Sorry to ask but I need somewhere to stay,” he muttered, it was barely audible but she heard him.
She shook her head and stared into the toilet bowl. “Can we talk about this later?”
She didn’t end up throwing up but she didn’t feel the best, finally hobbling back into the kitchen after a few minutes of dry heaving. “Make yourself at home,” she mumbled, flopping down onto the couch and grabbing a pillow. She whisper-screamed into the pillow dramatically.
“Don’t wanna get blood on your couch,” he replied, opting instead to sit cross legged on the floor next to her. A large orange cat padded over to him and sniffed him curiously. Frank offered his hand hesitantly and the cat bumped his head against it, purring loudly. Then he jumped onto the couch and curled up by his owner's feet.
She reached out and ran the tip of her finger over the bruises on his face. It was light enough not to hurt but for that same reason it tickled. He failed to stop a smile from forming on his face. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” he joked, grabbing her wrist before he started laughing at the featherlight touch.
“I don't like this,” she said with a pout, wiggling her finger and poking his face so hard he winced. She gave him a knowing look, as if his reaction proved some point she was trying to make.
“Ok rude.” He pulled back, bringing a hand up to cover his eye.
“You need to be more careful,” she said thoughtfully, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. She always got what she wanted. And she wanted him to be safe, so in her mind she reasoned that she would make that happen no matter what it took.
“That’s not gonna happen,” he scoffed, finding the idea that someone who does what he does has the luxury of being careful almost funny.
“Then you can’t stay with me.” She crossed her arms defiantly, rolling over to look him in the eyes properly rather than tilting her head to the side.
“Hm?” he questioned, a bit stunned by her boldness.
“If you stay with me I need you to promise to stay out of trouble,” she stated more firmly this time. She was smiling weakly at him but it didn’t reach her eyes. There was a longing in the way she looked at him, like she wanted something she knew she couldn’t have.
He shook his head, sighing sadly. The pitiful look she gave him made him want to fold right there and commit himself to a domestic life in her apartment feeding the cat and watering the plants. But he knew he wasn’t meant for a life like that, he didn’t deserve it. “Sweetheart, I can't-”
She cut him off before he could finish, already knowing what he was going to say. “No. I can't sit up at night worrying if you’re ok. I can’t have you coming back all beat up. Believe it or not I don't like seeing you hurt.” She was shaking, her fingers twitching with the effort of stopping herself from reaching out to him.
“I know. I’ll try to be careful. For you,” he assured her, crawling up onto the couch with her and pulling her into his arms. He was careful not to disturb the cat sleeping by her feet, positioning his legs so the orange fluff ball was cradled between the two of them. He would never have thought to do this in a million years but somehow he could tell it was what she needed.
With their foreheads pressed together, he could easily see the tears falling down her cheeks in the dim light of the apartment. The lights were off inside but the curtains were open, allowing the lights of the city in and illuminating her wet face. “Hey. hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She tried to turn away, but his arms held her in an iron grip. There was no avoiding her feelings as she so often tried to.
“Clearly it’s something.” His large hand brushed over her cheek, only spreading the tears across her face. She sobbed lightly as he caressed her face.
“I thought you were dead, Frank,” she finally said. Her voice was grim at that admittance. From about lunch time until he barged into her apartment she thought she would never see him again. Having him here, close enough to touch and doing just that, was giving her a sort of emotional whiplash.
It was late and the crying tired her out so she started to drift off. “You’re not gettin rid of me that easy, doll,” he chuckled softly, pressing a firm kiss to her hairline. She shifted in his arms, nuzzling into his chest and sighing sweetly. “Keep that up and you’re never gettin rid of me,” he said, more to himself that time since she was clearly fast asleep.
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#daredevil#the punisher x reader#the punisher#matt murdock#just pure fluff tbh#some angst bc I’m sad all the time
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Story #80 "A Long River Running" 1/5
This is an X-Files fanfiction story.
Read it on AO3
Tons of gratitude to @cecilysass who did really amazing beta work here!
Chapter 1
On a Saturday night Mulder all of a sudden finds himself in a club. For the umpteenth time this evening, he wonders how he’s gotten there. Just a few hours before, he was reclining languidly on Scully’s couch, munching on a mushroom and pepperoni pizza, with a stack of long overdue reports successfully finished and waiting to be submitted first thing Monday morning. He suspected that such an unexpected urge to pull his weight on work was just an excuse. He suspected that Scully suspected it too. He didn’t really know whether he just wanted to avoid another lonely night or just missed seeing his lovely partner. Maybe a bit of both.
At some point, just a little over after ten, he asked if she wanted to watch a movie together and was rendered speechless by her straightforward “no”. He was so genuinely shocked that didn’t even realize how deeply her rejection hurt. Not until he heard the door latching behind him.
Ouch. Apparently, Scully’s perfect weekend night didn’t include his pathetic company. Then again, she probably just planned to take a bath and have an early night. After all, it was one hell of a week and it took its toll on her. He could see it in her tense posture and a dog-tired look on her face—her eyes, normally bright and sparkling, turned almost colorless. The makeup over the beauty mark above her upper lip, which she tended to cover with the meticulous precision of a pathologist, was half-smeared, and somehow the fact that she didn’t bother to fix it spoke volumes.
Normally an introvert through and through, tonight Fox Mulder desperately wanted to surround himself with other human beings. That said, returning to his sad bachelor’s dwelling wasn’t an option, so he strolled to the nearest club. The “Eden” sounded appealing. He’d heard of the place before. Just a few blocks away on foot. He walked.
Now that he’s inside though, he gives up on the whole thing. Somehow, it feels terribly wrong to drink himself into oblivion over something as mundane as Scully’s bubble bath. Is there anything else besides her bath routines and an occasional glass of wine she does to unwind? It strikes him like lightning—he has no idea how Scully spends her time out of the office. It’s not like she has any time to spend out of the office, Mulder chides himself. And if she did? Would she rather stay home and have a quiet night in or consider the invitation to join him in a club? In a new uber-hip fancy club in Georgetown. He had a feeling she’d like the place.
Inside, it’s dark but also blindingly white, with red accents popping here and there, and he catches the reflection of dozens of other Mulders in the mirrored walls around. There’s the longest bar he’s ever seen, across both sides of which are quirky bed-like leather booths. Barely dressed ladies are tangled around their sick-guns-6-pack-dreamy eyes gentlemen. The place is hyper-modern and everything screams “luxury”—from the futuristic décor of the bar to the obscenely huge but somewhat intimate, like a walk-in shower of a hotel’s suite, dance floor. In this upmarket night escape, wearing his jeans and a plain black t-shirt, Mulder feels ridiculously small and cheap.
The music is deafeningly loud, but he enjoys the repetitive boom-boom beat in his ears and lets his eyes wander to people on the dance floor. As he takes another swig of beer his gaze lands on the diminutive redhead and he almost chokes, immediately drawing a parallel with Scully. She’s a good few feet away and from where he stands, he doesn’t really see anything but a bit of her backside; still, the resemblance is uncanny. Mulder’s got to perch on the footrest of his barstool to get a better look, and when he does, he finds it nearly impossible to look away. He can’t not stare. It’s steaming hot and everything around him is in motion but at that moment he couldn’t care less.
For Mulder, time stops.
His eyes are glued to the woman moving with reckless abandon in the center of the white mirrored arena, and he’s mesmerized—by the cap of her hair flashing brightly under the ceiling lights, by how attuned to music her body is. In his mind, he can easily envision her as his gorgeous partner – looking at him sternly and playing by the book in the confines of the Hoover building, and secretly letting her hair down and going wild off the hours. A millisecond-long thought that it might actually be Scully springs to his mind, and Mulder feels himself harden against the denim fabric of his jeans.
He growls in frustration—it’s too dangerous of a feeling, multiplied by the combination of loneliness and boredom. He hardly ever allows himself to think of Scully this way. He has to remind himself time and again—he has no claim over her. She’s not his. Never been. Probably never will. However, as the seed of curiosity has already been sowed, he’s eager to take a chance with a beautiful stranger and let himself forget.
When Mulder first came to England and became a freshman at Oxford, he thought he had finally gotten free of his father’s silent blame and his mother’s inconsolable grief. As easy as it was to escape his parents’ judgmental looks, to assuage the pain of his own was anything but child’s play. Guilt-ridden and prone to self-flagellation, but also emboldened with the new-found freedom, Mulder swung between extremes.
On more occasions than remembers he found himself waking up in strange beds with women he barely recognized, in houses full of other broken souls smoking and drinking themselves into oblivion in a futile attempt to forget. Or forgive. Maybe a little of both. Restless and eager to unleash the beasts within the dusk, they looked pathetic and miserable in the first rays of the sun. And he was one of them. One sorry son of a bitch.
Mulder doesn’t want to contemplate his choices now and be reminded of what he doesn’t have. Can’t have.
That woman might not be Scully, but he can pretend she is Scully enough to make tonight special. Gulping what’s left of his drink, Mulder knocks the bottle back on the counter and starts moving towards his fiery-haired goal.
There are couples everywhere he turns—touching and grinding against each other in rapturous delight, but his mysterious lady sways on the dance floor seemingly alone. Her shirt clings like the second skin to her body, baring the slender curves of her shoulder blades and a strip of skin of her lower back.
As she lifts her hands to pull the red locks off her sweaty face Mulder catches a glimpse of the reddish ink carving a circle on the most perfect of canvases—the woman’s pale back. He’s seen it before. He knows it all too well.
An ouroboros. The Ouroboros. A painful reminder of how reckless Dana Scully can be. Right on the spot he’s all too familiar with. The spot he claims to be his.
“Scully.”
Mulder’s heart somersaults in his chest, jubilant at the beautiful vision in front of him, and he starts moving faster, fighting his way through the milling crowd of sweaty bodies. He’s never seen her like that — uninhibited, careless as a child, and weightless as a bird.
And for fuck’s sake, wearing the snuggest leather pants he’s ever seen! Jesus, he would have never pegged her as a clubber. His all buttoned-up and don’t-mess-with-me agent Scully in their dimly lit basement turns leather-pants-and-fuck-me-shoes Scully when the night falls. How come he never knew? They work together sixty hours a week—eat lunches, spend nights in adjoining rooms of cheap motels all over the country, and hang out at each other’s for movie nights and fucking reports. Hell, they are practically joined by the hip. Yet, he never knew. Apparently, once in a while, Dana Scully likes to take it easy. And that must be how she likes it.
He can’t stop wondering what else she’s been holding out on him. It stings that Scully kept her plans secret. It’s not like she lied to you, Mulder tries to reason with himself. Is it a girls’ night out? How often does she come here? What other provocative items may he find in her closet? Will she let him join him? Now? Ever? The questions keep piling in his head, not helping in any way but making him acutely aware of what a mystery Dana Scully is. Even after six years together, she keeps him guessing.
He’s almost there, so close that he imagines she can hear him over the roar of music if he’s loud enough. He takes another step — dancing bodies flowing around—and then stops dead. And so does his heart.
All of a sudden the balance of the entire universe has gotten upset. The blood in Mulder’s veins goes cold, his heart makes another spin and dives in. It doesn’t land gracefully like an elegant trampoline jumper but rather crashes into pieces, turning into an ugly mass and splotching everything around in bloody drops. If he bothers to check the watch on his wrist, he’ll see that the second hand, usually moving with fluid sweep, got stuck and convulses in agony.
He doesn’t. He can’t take his eyes away from Scully.
She dances with her face to him but looks somewhere over her shoulder, and Mulder watches fascinated as a strong male hand creeps from behind her back and moves unrestricted over the bare skin of her stomach. Possessively.
Scully. A second ago she was merely steps away; a second ago, she was his. Now she’s miles away from his reach – achingly unattainable, someone else’s woman.
She half turns her head to the stranger behind and covers his mouth with her lips, her right arm goes around his neck, encouraging the guy to get even closer. As if it is fucking possible. The bile starts rising in the pit of his stomach, and Mulder turns away and strides in the direction of the toilets.
There’s a white gender-neutral bathroom with a row of neat white stalls, and Mulder yanks the first door open, relieved to find it unoccupied. He plunks himself down on the toilet seat, squeezes his eyes shut, and presses the heels of his palms over them.
He doesn’t know what to do or think. A man. Dana Scully has a man. She looks like she wants to get laid. She wants to get laid. And not with him. The liquified ache pools over the glass of his heart, and Mulder’s urge to wallow in his misery and sink his pain in the bottle returns with a new passion.
He’s gotta get out of here. Now. One minute to relieve himself, another minute to splash cold water on his face. Just as he gets out of his stall and takes a step towards the exit, the door bangs to the wall and a kissing couple rolls into the room.
Giggling drunkenly, the woman almost trips over the guy’s long legs causing him to break the kiss. She starts checking the doors for an unoccupied and relatively clean stall, oblivious to someone else’s presence in the room. One of the doors jerks open and a short plump man comes out, bumping her with his shoulder on his way to the sinks. The woman shoots him an incredulous look and then finally notices another person — a tall guy, watching her intently over the shorty’s head. Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open. Her voice, when she finally finds it, is barely a whisper.
“Mulder.” Fuck.
P.S. The "Eden" club was inspired by the real place. Here it is :)
#writing in english#creative writing#x files fanfic#agents clubbing#Scully has a life#jealous Fox Mulder#MSR#xf fanfic#english is my second language
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have anwen and/or galaed for the ask game, if you’d like! :D (and hope you feel better soon! <3) @kerra-and-company
Thank you 🥰 It's already better than this morning but i'm not out of the woods yet 😅
Anwen, my beloved:
01. Full name: Vicountess Anwen Evergreen (if Snargle is to be believed, Faren would be a Duke... Anwen's bloodline is nowhere as prominent and influent as the Farens but her parents did bestow upon her a title – mostly honorific – to go with her estate in the Reach)
02. Best friend: Meryw 🌲💙 (though one could argue that Meryw is her sister and Canach is her best friend 😅)
03. Sexuality: Quarterly bi! (courtesy of @lilypixy) Demi but so slow to work out her attraction that she only gets half of that label 🤣 !
04. Favorite color : Sapphire blue
05. Relationship status: Taken (by Trahearne)
06. Ideal mate: clever, thoughtful, gentle, supportive... Trahearne.
07. Turn-ons: Neck kisses, being swept off her feet
08. Favorite food: Orrian truffle risotto, New Kaineng Noodles (the extra spicy ones), white chocolate and raspberry cake 🍰
09. Crushes: Sieran, Trahearne (insert 'not sure if' meme : not sure if bi, pan, or just really into sylvari)
10. Favorite music: Balade, sung poems and festive music (she particularly loves the bell choirs of Wintersday because the crystalline sounds remind her of Aurene)
11. Biggest fear: "That one day through my actions I'd condemn someone to suffer in agony." - Her worst fear comes true both with Apatia and Trahearne. In a broader sense, she's terrified of failing to protect her loved ones, of outliving them...
12. Biggest fantasy: The dragon cycle has ended, Aurene is happy and at peace, her friends and family are safe from all harm and she's living her life alongside with her loved ones. There's a library with more books, scrolls and tablets that could be read in a dozen lifetimes, and the more they read the more volumes appear. Running out of time is not something either of them has to worry about, though. There's a garden that needs tending, and a plum tree with a blanket underneath and fairy lights in it, and always a glass of wine or a cup of tea at hand. — a little sneak peek of their "after" 😌
13. Bad habits: Takes more than she can shoulder and hides it till she breaks ; inadvertently ghosts people because she has time blindness and picks up relationships where they left out
14. Biggest regret: Being unable to save Sieran and Blish... there were other deaths she wish she could go back in time and do things differently to avert, but none feel more unfair than these two..
15. Best kept secrets: A generous and totally anonymous donation she made to the Shining Blade, in hope to commute some of a certain sylvari's service time.
16. Last thought: as in... her last thought, or the last thought I had about her? For the latter I was wondering which Aurene legendary to give her before the new content drops... whether to finish Aurene's Insight – that I could use on a LOT of my characters – or finish the shield or get her the greatsword... I love her wielding Caladbolg and I don't want that to change but a branded Caladbolg would be... somewhat bittersweetly fitting. I don't really know how to explain 😅
17. Worst romantic experience: The amount of stress she was under when she realised she was in love with Trahearne, the fear of losing him and the dark relief she felt when the many deaths they encountered were, at least, not his.
18. Biggest insecurity: She wonders if she could have done more to protect Aurene from the crushing weight of her destiny... to buy her some time, some peace, some safety...
19. Weapon of choice: Greatsword and shield
20. Role Model: The people she loves have shaped her throughout her life and keep shaping her as she journeys forth. Violet and Conrad Faren, with their kind heart and sharp spirits ; the memory of her parents, a legacy she wanted to honour ; Logan Thackeray, with all the dumb courage and chaotic energy of a golden retriever; Sieran, for her unbridled joy in discovery and for being the first person Anwen could really infodump to without seeming to tire her; Meryw, for the constance of her heart, the brilliance of her mind and the valiance of her soul ; Trahearne, for his openness, his dedication and the brightness of his hope.
Both @dumb-dumb-mander and you requested some insight on Galaëd so I'll make an Autumn Birch centric post tomorrow and tag you both, if that's okay 🥰🍂 gonna hit the hay, now!
#archesa answers#thanks a lot for asking#i enjoyed answering these a lot!#anwen evergreen#I'm thinking a lot about her lately with new content dropping next week 🤩😍
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I did more drabbles because honestly I just had the thought of Jervis in Arkham with Edward and yknow 3am writing the usual it's a babble for a reason
Mm TW for like injury and mild violence
Hoarse and harsh screaming reverberated through thick brick walls. The declarations and demands to be free something Arkham had all heard before. Though on that day they witnessed a particular vigor to each thrash and flailing limb, tears down cheeks with ragged breaths heaving. The onslaught still didn't stop.
The Riddler and Mad Hatter had been working on a project together after giving the asylum the slip once before. Of course, the staff had no idea what and weren't paid enough to care, but there was an understanding that when one caped crusader dropped off two of your missing patients you just didn't complain.
Contrary to the expectations, Edward went quietly. He accepted his fate if not in hopes of his company doing the same...then to ensure that he wasn't going to receive his treatment.
Kicking his legs, joints aching, his head thrashing from side to side, Jervis refused to move one inch. His shoes dug into the ground, scraping and scuffing with each defiant kick, and when the doctors or security alike grew too close he snarled at them like a feral creature, cornered and fighting on bleeding legs.
Edward frowned, though it was only subtle, because he knew full well that no matter what he said or did in those moments to console the other, that he too would be ushered away and silenced for sheer ease of transfer.
The last he saw of Jervis was his teeth sinking into the hand of a guard that happened to get too close.
Sat at the chessboard and examining his pieces, The Riddler knew full well that there was no winning. Then again, he never exactly played to win. Especially when his opposition was none other than the resident hermit misanthropist... the male one at least. Ivy was good company, or so he had heard, but Edward was in no mind to spiral down into a wreckless heap of loathing and darkness.
That had been nearly a week ago, and Edward wasn't one to worry necessarily, but for someone who had begrudgingly grown on him there was a small itch twisting in his stomach.
---
He was a brilliant engineer, a man with goals and ideas that shone brighter than any other inmate in that whole goddamn facility. The only reason he was forced back time and time again was because of his apathy to collateral damage and... possibly because of the...small if not completely insignificant breakdowns he had after staying up for days on end.
"Being quiet ain't a good look on you, Ed."
The Riddler, as he considered himself to be around most inmates, looked up to the man across from him with a distant hum. He soon piped up with a cocky grin, "Not all genius is aloud, Jon!"
This caused the Scarecrow to raise a brow, the small clack of a queen checking his king deafening the air.
"Minesweeper's more my style," Edward grumbled to himself, though the sour expression dropped immediately for a coy grin. "Best of seven?"
Jonathan sighed a strained groan before taking the pieces to rearrange back to their status quo. "You aren't playin'."
"I'm the only one sat across from you, Jonathan, I know your eyesight's shot like hell but this is a little much!" Edward laughed, melodic from his chest with his head thrown back, black tufts of hair obscuring his eye ever so slightly.
The deadpan sent his way did little for Edward as he settled himself.
"Ah. You were serious."
"Ed, if you wanted to convince me that your genius was all in your head you wouldn't have spent so many years squakin' like a crow burnin' in the god damn sun."
He furrowed his brows at his present company's comparison, about to speak before interrupted.
"Constantly at such a volume if you wanted to ignore it you couldn't."
The Riddler sunk into his chair at that, eyes cast down to the chess board. He turned it around. Now he was white.
Jonathan pinched the bridge of his arched nose before hunching over the table. "I'm not gonna ask if you're okay --"
"Which I am!"
"Because I don't care. I can read it across your face and I don't need you confirming what I know is right."
Edward remained silent indignantly after that, an emptiness to his gaze. Worry.
"Get a goddammit grip, Edward. You've been alone for too goddamn long."
"Oh, as if you haven't succumbed to the same issues! Don't act so high and mighty!"
"You're losing sleep over an obsessive, psychotic, mad man; I haven't stooped that low!"
Edward snarled to the other, "I don't want them frying the only other somewhat competent brain in the business."
"If your ego wasn't so fragile you'd see so much more, boy."
"Move your fucking piece, Jonathan."
A gentle tune echoed down the halls to each cell, a waltzing melody with the pattering of socks dancing in time accompanying it all mingled with chains scraping along the floor. A jovial laugh bubbled into the air, indistinct chattering coming from afar. Marching beats grew louder as the whistling turned to humming.
The Scarecrow bristled, "Your move to start."
---
To say that the rogues wouldn't believe what they were seeing would be a lie. Half of them took the 'mad' in Mad Hatter very literally. The other's not so much.
Edward, however, had seen Jervis' potential on full display while facing off the bat. He had waisted no time in grabbing his vorpal sword and with the determination of a valourant Knight he tried with all his might to slay the burbling jabawock.
Laying on his bed, Edward set his book down before passing a smug grin across to the man held opposite him.
Jonathan barely shifted.
The waltz was melancholic, soft and lilting as it grew closer.
A clamour of a crashing door burst through the gentle ambience. The guards marched forward first, gazes vacant.
Jervis Tetch stood among the men, his ankles bound in chains, torso wrapped in a straight jacket speckled with blood upon the edges. And there was the Hatter, nose bruised and bleeding, hair a tosstled mess, all while he whistled through his buck teeth. Bruised at his cheeks and trailing with a stagger, the man settled across from Edward's cell.
"My Knave," Jervis began, resting his cheek against the clear plexiglass, "Won't you join the dance?"
Edward simply grinned, and while he knew that this would end in the both of them black and blue more so than ever, he simply couldn't deny the other.
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