#this is SO long and messy i can't look at it any longer -_- hopefully it's semi comprehensible

[gloriousmonsters]

what is the new book concept?? (if you don’t mind sharing — but if you do mind it’s ok not to reply)

also what is that font you used btw? is there a full alphabet somewhere and if so would you mind sharing the link? i like that it’s a very understated gothic-looking serif. or very calligraphic looking i guess

sure thing!! with the understanding it's a lot more half-baked than most of the ideas I've been talking about, so i'm going to briefly walk you through the few ideas that went into it before explaining (also briefly) what it is so far, lol. Also, the font is Fondamento - it was one of the fonts available in Photopea (free online photoshop-like) which I used to make the cover, but it looks like it's also on Google Fonts. If you want to know how I did the bronze metallic-ink-ish look for the text I can expound on that as well, btw, or you can just enjoy the font :)

So I've been having a resurgence of my Tempest emotions

(for those who are unfamiliar. i would summarize it, but it would take a long time. just. find a summary and read it with a MASSIVE grain of salt that's labeled 'prospero is an asshole and nobody understands Caliban but tumblr user gloriousmonsters and the poet Robert Browning')

and this time reading it was especially having fun with the parallels between Caliban and Miranda's characters and also thinking about how EXTREMELY weird and screwed up their relationship would have been growing up.

Despite interpretations/stories based on it sometimes having it otherwise, in canon neither of them seem to have ever seen or spoken to Ariel (at least in capacity as A Person You Can Talk to; Caliban is more aware of the spirits Prospero commands in abstract, at least). Aside from Prospero, who is notoriously not good at being present for what he's supposed to be looking after, they are the only human being the other one knows. It's serving twisted Eden vibes. It's serving tmg's 'the last man on earth'. it's serving 'not that Prospero would have encouraged it, but to an extent they must have seen each other as family, right? especially in Miranda's case, considering she grew up her entire life with him. the psuedoincest is off the charts'. Then shit goes bad (in whatever way you want to interpret) and now suddenly they're in a place of seeing each other daily, because Caliban does literally everything around the place, but having an uncrossable rift of mutual hurt and betrayal between them* that has little choice but to curdle and get worse because neither of them can do anything to change their situation. Depending on how lines are assigned, they never speak to each other in the play. And they have nobody else to talk to save for cursing out Prospero (Caliban) or trying to get in two words between Prospero's monologues (Miranda). And then the play events happen and they just part ways because Prospero has decided it, after probably expecting they'd be stuck in this forever. And then the next-to-only person you've ever known is on a different landmass and you're probably never going to see them again. it's So fucked.

Anyway I was revolving all of that with quiet awe in my head, and going 'man, I want to write a fucked up Caliban/Miranda book, but I don't have a non-play plot and I don't want to just write a prequel'

Then I encountered Caliban upon Setebos for the first time, and despite the fact i could still nitpick some things it slaps insanely. Only good Tempest fanfiction. It's a long poem consisting of Caliban theorizing about Setebos--a god his mother supposedly got her witch powers from, but that Caliban knows very little about. He theorizes that Setebos is either indifferent or malignant or both--impossible to predict, driven by whim. The only other divine force is 'the Quiet', an even more inhuman and incomprehensible force that doesn't do anything at all; cosmology is cruel, the world a sandbox under the eye of a god with as many arms as a cuttlefish, capricious and sadistic, whom we can only hope will someday grow decrepit and sleep, which is the closest to it being dead we can pray for--

It was about this point I realized Caliban/Browning was inventing the Lovecraft mythos 50ish years ahead of schedule, and got hit by the lightning bolt of 'PUT ELDRITCH BEINGS IN IT' and, five seconds later 'CALIBAN DESERVES TO BE A MAGICIAN' and five seconds after that 'miranda deserves to break out of being her father's Perfect child, let's set it in the future and kill Prospero off'

So Bitter Heart (taken from a line in the poem, 'Caliban/a bitter heart that bides its time') is conceptually a dual perspective novella/short novel focused on how about nine years after the conclusion of The Tempest, Miranda (unmarried, I'll handwave it; Ferdinand bores me so much sorry dude) finds her father dead and surrounded by rambling half-incomprehensible notes, remnants of a type of magic that's far different from his old ways, and a creeping sense of Wrongness that begins to slowly manifest in distortion, mutation and decay of elements of reality. People search for solutions while Miranda tries to find the source of the bizarre power in her father's notes and what hidden books she can unearth from his study, but she hasn't made it very far before a man comes to Milan at the behest of someone who's decided we should throw magic at the magic problem--a man she's heard rumors of as the hot new 'guy you keep in your court for a bit to show him off at parties because he's learned and also Moorish or something, he has this crazy backstory that's probably fake but is a lot of fun, also he does magic probably' in other cities, but never met.

A man who, when they meet face to face, turns out to be Caliban, who after about a year of 'finally peace and quiet' realized that living completely alone on an island was going to drive him insane and also he still really wanted revenge on Prospero (and had a lot of ambiguous ideas about what he wanted from Miranda) so he scraped together what Prospero had left behind and taught himself magic for the next few years until he could figure out a way off the island. He's extremely annoyed that after that, and after spending more years building himself up and finding his footing in the outside world, Prospero had the nerve to die RIGHT before he showed up, even if he wasn't promised a reward if he can stop people's arms from turning into fishes and shit he'd find out what did it so he can give it a piece of his mind. Miranda understandably never planned for this scenario and has a really hard time knowing what to feel about it, but she and Caliban form a tentative truce in order to try and figure out wtf Prospero was doing before he croaked.

There'll be intercut flashbacks to their past and the time they spent becoming incredibly codependent and eventually tipping into confused romantic attraction and sexual experimentation, which both of them have tried very hard to convince themselves was a bad idea for one reason or another, it clearly wasn't and will never be good for them, etc; and of course in present day they both immediately resume having bitter gothic sexual tension and trying to ignore the instinct that, now they've met each other again, they're the only two real people in a world of dreams and spirits.

Also they have to find the entrance to an eldritch realm and figure out what's coming through and how to stop it, and have a lot of insanely weird and pretentious thoughts/conversations about God and sin and abuse and vengeance/hatred and so on. So that's the mess Bitter Heart is at the moment :P

*ymmv may vary on how justified on either side depending on the situation, obviously

#vic talks #some do it for enjoyment; others for employment #bitter heart #this is SO long and messy i can't look at it any longer -_- hopefully it's semi comprehensible

[majestyeverlasting]

Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon. 

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar. 

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with. 

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?” 

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.  

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down. 

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note. 

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance. 

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins. 

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.” 

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words. 

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”  

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease. 

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely. 

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours. 

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had. 

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.” 

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.” 

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again. 

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage. 

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away. 

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair. 

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips. 

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long. 

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“ 

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.” 

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?” 

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest. 

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car. 

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you. 

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths. 

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.” 

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star. 

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice. 

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged. 

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away. 

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.” 

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down. 

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new. 

“Good night, Eddie.” 

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air. 

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?” 

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased. 

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed. 

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene. 

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question, 

“What’s your deal?”  

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself. 

“I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. 

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door. 

“Hi,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.” 

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask. 

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again. 

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it. 

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.” 

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint. 

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over. 

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done. 

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.” 

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.” 

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.” 

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending. 

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control. 

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.” 

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true. 

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins. 

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?” 

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends. 

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie. 

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world. 

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered. 

He nods. 

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him. 

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint. 

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes. 

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.” 

You let your hand fall from his chest. 

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.” 

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever. 

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long. 

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours. 

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right. 

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display. 

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again. 

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away. 

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end. 

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.” 

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.  

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?” 

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so. 

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.” 

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”  

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir. 

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it. 

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him. 

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture. 

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it. 

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more. 

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him. 

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good. 

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come. 

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light. 

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction. 

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be. 

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself. 

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear. 

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”  

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?” 

You nod. 

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme. 

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V. 

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt. 

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts. 

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once. 

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person. 

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. 

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body. 

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter. 

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder. 

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile. 

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by. 

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins. 

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut. 

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers. 

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy. 

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble. 

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream. 

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?” 

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones. 

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty. 

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.  

“What's wrong?” you ask. 

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.” 

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight. 

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking. 

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him. 

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside. 

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back. 

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze. 

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you. 

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?” 

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak. 

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance. 

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined. 

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs. 

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady. 

“Okay,” you whisper shakily. 

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach. 

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.” 

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.” 

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected. 

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter. 

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps. 

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin. 

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in. 

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.” 

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?” 

Your stomach drops. 

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.” 

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him. 

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips. 

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept. 

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together. 

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension. 

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.” 

“How close?” 

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.” 

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—” 

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.  

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?” 

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.  

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs. 

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly. 

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him. 

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips. 

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly. 

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.” 

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.” 

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach. 

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit. 

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes. 

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies. 

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices. 

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.” 

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you. 

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.” 

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

For more fics, see my pinned post! 

To join my taglist, turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

#eddie munson #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #4 stranger things fic

[daegall]

[20:37]

pairing: brother's best friend!hyuck x reader

genre: angst, hurt comfort, slight fluff, unrequited love on both sides but reader likes renjun and hyuck likes reader but renjun only got close to reader for their best friend :(, brothers best friend!AU

warnings: umm mentions of murder, lots of unrequitedness

word count: 885 words

a/n: hi omg i know it's been a hot minute but i thought of htis and . boom except it wasn't supposed ot be this angst LOL

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @kflixnet @k-radio @nct-writers + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy <3

You feel like absolute shit. You know you look like it too.

You've been in bed for around what seems like 3 hours now, but with your curtains being closed all day, you're not sure how long you've spent in bed. What time is it?

Despite that, you don't make an effort to check, you don't want to move. Your mind is racing, busy with rushing thoughts trying to distract yourself from the events you've encountered a few hours ago. Your eyes are sore, so is your nose, and you can barely feel the tip of your fingers as they've been digging into your blanket for so damn long.

Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it be any other human being in the world? Did god hate you? Why are you always the one with unfortunate events?

Speaking of unfortunate events, your door opens, even though you know hours ago you told your brother Mark specifically not to disturb you, as you had a rough day. This means two things, it's either Mark, barging in as he forgot your request, or someone else barging in. Hopefully not Renjun. You don't want to see him right now.

What seemed like 2 possibilities, have become 3, because what's at your door is neither your brother or your best friend, it's your brother's best friend. Who happens to be one of your closest friends. Who happens to be Lee Donghyuck.

"Hey Y/n, just came in here if you wanted the last slice of pizza, you know I'm not much of a pizza gu--"

Donghyuck completely freezes when he sees the state of your surroundings. Completely dark, messy, and there's a tension in here that doesn't sit right with him.

"Hey, you okay?" His previously cheerful tone has vanished, no longer useful in your presence, and is instead replaced by a concerned, and quite rough voice.

You don't answer him. But that's all he needs to know you're not okay. Not at all.

"Wanna talk about it?" The rough touch in his voice is now gone too, this time, it's replaced with a softness, a gentle and loving tone.

This time, you sit up, which makes Donghyuck more than relieved.

One moment later, however, his heart drops. You look horrible, your hair messy and eyes lightly swollen, he can see the way your lips quiver when as you let out a sigh, your hands tightening around Mark's sweater that you wear.

Instinctively, Donghyuck lets himself in the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He doesn't bother turning on the lights, there would be no point in upsetting you that way.

His footsteps are slow, but soft, as if you were asleep. Then, there's a dip next to you, and you know he's there.

"Can... can I know about it?"

Your head turns to him, and he looks... so genuine. His eyes are pooled with worry and such concern that you've longed for, and his hands that leave his hoodie pockets for yours are warm and comforting.

Your voice shakes as you mumble softly, "He got close to me just to be close to my best friend."

Donghyuck's heart shatters when your eyes instantly well up again. He rubs his thumbs across your knuckles smoothly.

He doesn't need to hear the names to know. It's Huang Renjun, who you've been crushing on for months on end now.

When your head meets his shoulder, he asks, "Why didn't you tell Mark?"

"He would murder Renjun,"

"What makes you think I wouldn't?"

Your head lifts from his shoulder. "Hyuck," There's a light frown of your lips that clearly state how you disagree with his words, but Donghyuck can't find himself taking you seriously. Not when his heart is beating so dangerously fast when you call him by his nickname.

"Alright, alright," He chuckles in defeat, leaning down to press your head back to his shoulder. "I promise I won't murder the piece of shit who used you. Definitely not mad at him or anything."

Why wouldn't he be mad? When someone is taking advantage of someone he cares so dearly for? For taking away the person he's loved for years now?

You stay there together, huddled up in a bundle on your bed, you seeking for comfort, and Donghyuck gladly providing it for you. The silence isn't exactly that comfortable, but it isn't awkward either. It's... sad. You're sad. Donghyuck's mad. But now is not the time to act. It's time to settle into your feelings and really find out how you feel.

Donghyuck dead set on his, he has been since Mark approved of his crush on you.

"Wanna tell Mark anytime soon?" The silence is broken with this question, as Donghyuck presses a very subtle peck on your hairline.

"In... in a minute, please," You plead, burying yourself deeper into his embrace. "I'm not ready to face the furious lion inside him. You know, that one where he gets mad,"

Donghyuck's chuckle resonate through your ear, as your ear presses into his neck. It causes you to follow along, feeling his nod gently nudge against your forehead. "I get that. And I'll be here for as long as you want. I'm not going anywhere."

He'll wait for you. He'll wait for eternity if he has to. He's not going to give up on you, even if it'll take years for you to love him back.

#daegall's timestamps! #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck imagines #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #neoturtles #knet bakery #kflixnet #k-radio! #nct-writers #lee donghyuck scenarios #lee donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck angst #lee donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck drabbles #lee donghyuck blurbs #haechan #haechan imagines #nct #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #nct 127 imagines

[gds-fanfic-blog]

The note (fnaftale)

It had been many years since Michael's murder. He had long since became an angel, like his mother had. His father is hopefully burning in hell by now, for killing him and his friends...

He had a small house in heaven, where he slept the nights away when God didn't need his services. Letting his mind sink into tranquility.

While in his house, he accidentally knocked over some papers. Going to pick them up, one catches his eye. He has no memory of this note, but it looks important. It's his mortal writing, messy and imperfect. Like he once was. But not anymore, God made him perfect now after all. He reads the note over. Finding that it's a letter to his current self.

"Michael, if you're reading this, it's likely you're already gone, but I'm hoping this letter will still reach some part of your mind.

I'm you from before you joined the hivemind. I don't know how much you remember from before than, but I'll tell you what God is making me forget."

....God made him forget something? It was probably a memory full of sin, that needed to be terminated. If this note has something that will jog his sinful memory, he'll have to have God wipe him clean again.

"I fought hard to save my friends and mom, to get us out. But he's God, and I'm just a kid. I can't save the others, and I can bearly save myself."

Save? Why would he need to save himself from God? God is good, and the source of all his happiness! He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He has no reason to wish to escape the good father.

....He has no reason to wish to escape the good father. He continues reading.

"Things are a blur, and I'm not sure how long I can stay myself. I think it's time I give up. I've tried everything, and nothing good comes out of it. I just end up getting tortured."

He had... faint memories of what he endured. Most of those memories had been purged though. All of the torture was necessary, for he had inner demons that needed to be dealt with.

"There's nothing I can do except hope. Hope that someone else, someone stronger, can free us. You may not remember that hope, but I held onto it until mentally couldn't any longer. We'll be saved someday, whether we want it or not, we'll be saved. If you can't remember the fear and pain, at least remember the hope. When we're saved, remember this letter. It might help you with your recovery."

Michael chuckles to himself. His sinful thoughts made him act so strange! There is no one to "save" him, and no need to be saved from literal paradise! He has no reason to base his hope on sin anymore. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope. God is his hope.

"I think I'm going to end this letter here. I'm getting tired, and this dream may be my last before I'm a completely different person. Goodbye, Michael. I wish you well."

He smiles softly. He sounded like he was waiting for his execution day! How amusing... having God fix his head was no different from going to the doctor. He gets an idea, something that he hasn't done on his own in centuries, and starts writing.

"Dear Past Me.

It sounds like you went through quite a bit of trouble. I'm glad you aren't suffering anymore though. Sure, what God did for us to be happy is scary to humans, but it all turns out fine in the end. Even if you STILL would think it's bad, I'm happy. If I'm surviving and happy, than surely the both of us are winning somewhat. As for the hope that a someone will "save" us, however, I doubt it. God has never lost a battle. You'd have to be another God to even stand a chance, and as far as I know, he's the only one. But I'll keep this paper in mind if that ever DOES happen. I just hope that the both of us will still find love and happiness in the aftermath."

A voice invades his mind. The voice of God. "Michael, what are you doing in that hut of yours? Come hither my child, I have a job for you."

He nods in acknowledgement of the Lord, and finishes his response.

"Anyway, I ALSO need to end this response. God just called me over. Says he has a job for me. Goodbye, past Michael."

He flies out of his house, towards the throne of God, laughing a bit to himself. Freedom? Who would want that? He is but a foolish sheep, with a kind and patient shepherd. He is no longer afraid, and he's eternally happy to serve under the Holy Father. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy. He's happy.... He's happy.... He's happy....... He's happy....... He's happy...... H-he's happy... right....?

.....he'll need to have this sinful thoughts of doubt purged again. He has no reason to be afraid.

(Credits to @sweet-and-insane for the two notes Michael wrote!)

#fnaf au #fnaftale fic #undertale au #fnaf michael afton #tw brainwashing #tw repeating #tw repeating words #god

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Hiii! So referring to your post about what you could change about rtte, somewhere in there you mentioned that krogan suffers from anxiety and depression and is a victim of abuse. I'm curious as to how that is, since I can't tell if he is in the show. Can you tell me why you think so?? (Love moth!Krogan btw!!)

Oh yea I love moth Krogan too :3

But on the main point, This is probably going to be a very long winded response, so… hopefully I word this well enough.

So… through my first few viewings of the final seasons of race to the edge, I didn’t pay much, if any attention to Krogan as a whole, except for the fact that he was… kind of a dick. It was only after a while, towards the end, and at the very end of the season, where we actually see Krogan and Drago interacting that I thought that… something wasn’t really clicking with the whole “Krogan is just some random guy that works for Drago, etc.”

Krogan is a very… noticeably fussy, angry individual. He doesn’t take shit from anyone. But yet, this man, who is, while intelligent and able to back himself up in the “not really being scared of things”… is absolutely petrified of Drago. All of his body language in that one scene goes from being harsh, rigid, and standoffish to being completely submissive and absolutely terrified.

For example, in namely this scene, Krogan goes from looking everything and acting extremely aggressive and furious, to being submissive and… incredibly meek in front of the man whom is (supposedly) in charge of him:

Note the distinct slant of Krogan’s shoulders down, how he leaves his neck unprotected, and how he tried to make himself smaller than he really is. These are all very distinct signs of being scared of something or someone- for both humans, and for animals.

Based on the information we already have about Drago’s treatment towards his subordinates and army, based on Eret’s resignations about Drago himself, we can assume at least a few hints into why Krogan acts this way towards Drago.

For one, while Eret was branded and mostly submissive towards Drago, he’s noticeably more brave in how he approaches Drago. Which, according to some sources, would point to the fact that Krogan has been underneath Drago’s thumb for a longer period of time than Eret has

Not only that, but Krogan stumbles over his words- he’s shown to, while he’s not exactly a charismatic man like Viggo, Krogan is also show to be pretty average in his speaking ability- not stammering and weak like a child who got caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

Another thing, now that I’ve mentioned Krogan’s social skills. They aren’t exactly the best. If anything, he’s honestly pretty awkward, though he sometimes does… obviously show the want and need to interact with other people, but other people are actively scared of him due to his standoffish, somewhat aggressive demeanor- which, looping back to the anxiety and depression, as well as abuse victim… Victims of abuse, as well as sufferers of depression can actually suffer from increased aggression towards other people as a side effect of being depressed. Pushing people away so they can wallow in their sadness privately and without a factor of other people worrying about them (or potentially pitying them) is one thing they might worry about.

While we never do get any sort of difference in the character models of the show, we do occasionally get to see characters without major parts of their armor. We never see Krogan without his bracers, and while we do occasionally see him in more situations without objects of his normal apparel- ie: his cloak, and his tunic for example. We never see him (even in non-battle situations where he wouldn’t need his bracers) without them, meaning there’s quite possibly some scars underneath them that he doesn’t want people to see.

The abuse. What about it though, besides the fact that Krogan is extremely submissive and gets extremely messy around Drago, what is it that made me think he’s been being abused for a while? Well, having known people in my life who have been in similar situations, I put his behavior, and the thought about the abuse together, and came to a close conclusion that, not only was his depression another factor in his outward hostility towards people, but he’s been dealt such a cruel hand by his master (Drago) that he’s become bitter towards the sympathy of others. He doesn’t believe there to be good in the world anymore because of the cruelties he himself has been forced into.

The anxiety is a side effect to the depression and the abuse. He has the constant, nagging feeling that every little action he does is Wrong and is Punishable. The way he displays himself- is a ruse. There’s certain scenes where you can see his eyes bouncing every which way, his shoulders are stiff, back straight, as if he’s anticipating getting hit, or attacked or blindsided.

Krogan likes being alone more than he likes being around other people, but in the severe essence of it all, he’s pushing himself away from people who could possibly help him, or want to help him if only they knew what’s going on. Because he’s underneath the assumption that anyone and everyone is out to get him, or if anything, Someone is going to Hurt him, because that’s all people have done to him anyways.

And that’s why- I believe I have said this before- but Earning His Trust… is a huge major hurdle. While he may be curious of someone, he’s learned the hard way that being curious, can get him hurt. And it inevitably will get him hurt.

These are just a few points on why I think Krogan is a Victim of trauma and abuse, but a very unique one, that isn’t shown very much, or these victims are sometimes even shown negatively and that they’re monsters for not wanting help. If we’d been given more time to show a bit more of the trauma he probably underwent, it might have been a bit more noticeable. (and I probably wouldn’t have had to do like 20+ hours on research into how different victims of trauma react to it differently.)

#krogan #httyd #httyd rtte #krogan rtte #krogan httyd #rtte #asks #headcanons #krogan headcanons

[inneedofsupervision]

hey there im interesting in writing my own stuff and was just interested.. how much time does writing take up for you? how long would you say u spend on each fic? do you need time to process and think about a prompt given or do u just instantly know what to write?

Those are some tough questions since my writing style and work progress are all over the place, but I'll try to answer all your questions. (I also feel honored you came to me out of all these amazing writers on this website since I'm new to writing myself. This is a boost for my self-esteem lmao)

"how much time does writing take up for you? how long would you say u spend on each fic? "

I think it's important to mention that English is not my native language. I have to double-check grammar and word choices and spend lots of time editing and re-writing sentences and phrases, sometimes even whole scenes, before they make sense. If I were to write in German, it would probably take me at least a quarter less time than writing fics in English.

How much time does it take me to work on a fic?

It depends on how motivated I am. Sometimes, I'm motivated but struggle to come up with writing in English. The words don't come to me, and I'll write three butchered sentences of nonsense before growing frustrated and stopping. When I'm motivated and English makes sense, I write 1000 to 5000 words, but that can also vary. I never tracked how many hours it takes to complete a fanfic. My fics also vary in length each time, so it's not like I could compare them. If I had more free time, it would take me less time, but since I'm working 10 hours a day and mostly write on weekends, it naturally takes me longer to upload a new work.

In conclusion, I can't give you numbers, but if I had to guess, I would say I spend at least ten hours on one fanfic, most of the time more than that. If you like, I could track how many hours I need to complete a fic or two, and you can come back in the future and ask again if that's helpful.

"do you need time to process and think about a prompt given or do u just instantly know what to write?"

As mentioned, I'm new to writing and haven't got a lot of prompts, so I can't give you a clear answer to that one. But I got my second prompt yesterday, and funnily, I got some ideas on how the plot could go for that one while at work.

Most of the time, I get ideas for a specific scene while walking my dogs or being at work, and I take my phone and note it down. Sometimes, I begin to write that scene and come up with the rest of the story later. Other times, after writing down that scene on my phone, I go back to whatever I have been doing, and an hour later, I have the rest of the plot coming up. I note that down to avoid forgetting it until I get home. It's a messy progress without any structure of what to do first.

To give you some examples, when I wrote "Suit Up" the only scene I had in mind was where Peter walks into Tony's lab, and Tony is kinda distant and a bit of a prick. That was all. No t-scene, no interaction with Ned, no real plot, it was simply just Peter acting like a lil puppy and Tony being a bit of a meanie.

A similar process to "No Spilling Secrets." The only idea I had, was Peter being a dork and falling, getting caught in his webs. "So you got Detention"? How about Peter teasing Steve and Steve tackling the kid? And then I build something hopefully resembling a plot around it and hope people like it.

And that's how I work on my fics. I don't know if those answers are helpful, I hope I could help you. Always happy to answer if there's anything else you want to know

It's really cool that you want to start writing yourself. It can be hard but it is also really fun and it's cool to look back at the stuff you wrote. I wish you all the best and lots of fun working on your own stuff :)

#anon ask #ask #i feel like i didn't answer anything .... #I'm so sorry this is probably not what you have hoped for

[cicadaclan]

Who are your top two clan leaders and what abt them makes them ur faves... and also who's ur absolute least favorite leader out of them all n why?

well if u know me, first and foremost is blackstar. i have bias for him as a kid, and i love him conceptually now as well, acknowledging that some thoughts i have of him are from my own interpretation,

it's so tasty tho, I think i was definitely onto something when i was little. guy who supported both brokenstar and tigerstar rising to become leader and ultimately resolving to do a better job than the both of them? brokenstar was his old friend and he sincerely believed along with the rest of shadowclan that tigerstar could improve their odds? like cmon man. he has so much flavour to him,

and arguably he Did do better than the both of them, over a longer period of time. for one, not killing his own apprentices thru unjust practices, and thinking of his clan first over revenge or petty grievances. there were a lot of reasons for everyone from all three of the other clans to mistrust him, for what he did under both bad leaders, and he's the one who calls out lionblaze for being literally a murderer. and he Is. lionblaze sucks.

he aimed to steady out the life of shadowclan, and from what i remember, his arrogance took a back burner to consideration for his clan. strong but not cruel, as a group instead of individual. i think he succeeded in the end, up until he grew too weak to properly lead any longer,

tallstar, messy as he is, i still enjoy him a lot as a leader. windclan was put thru a lot very early on, and that would throw anyone's abilities into question, but he managed to keep everyone together long enough to return home. despite the rising xenophobia, he chose to hear out fireheart over resolving to battle w thunderclan in the middle of the first arc, and then later banded up to keep from being driven out again. he was a cool old man, making more choices on his own judgement than being pressured by his warriors, which i can't say the same for peaceful or resolute leaders like pine and sunstar,

special shout out to nightstar bc i like shadowclan, even if his leader status can be argued against. he was never accepted by starclan, but i like to think he maintained the position otherwise shadowclan cld have felt even more lost than they already did after brokenstar was driven out,

now for least favourite ... i have complicated feelings abt onestar. was he an interesting antagonist? yah, id say he was, but god damn did his decisions not seem utterly stupid at times. he was infinitely more interesting than mudclaw in the end, but in his aim to prove other cats wrong abt something that's objectively helped windclan in the past, he ruined a lot of his personal relationships in the process,

he was self-involved in a similar but opposing way to tallstar, where tallstar did act in self interest to hopefully benefit the clan, with his own biases in play, onestar sabotaged clan relations in some attempt to make himself out as stronger. he wanted to look better than someone who relied on outside help, but man.. he didn't need to do all that,

but he thought he did, bc of the whole undermining of mudclaws rebellion. he narrowly didn't become leader until the moonpool was founded, and there'd be a good chance the rebellion caused cats to continue to question his leadership even after it was squashed. it cld have all been in his own head tho; he knew the most how close he grew w firestar,

i think im also still sad how he did so much that his relationship w firestar became unsalvagable, even for fire. and then firestar died, w them as enemies. :(

#canon wc #my thoughts #ough oof #long post

[shadowsinger11]

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #james phelps #oliver phelps

[god1ngs]

━‎ unfinished symphony [i]

synopsis; you try to stop wilbur before it's too late

contains; dream smp spoilers, angst, swearing, bad & unedited writing

c!wilbur soot / reader, 729 wc

note; this is kinda messy but take it ahaha

masterlist ; part two

you were tripping over your words. you could barely get a single sentence out, trying to not stammer over every syllable. you were clumsily walking alongside wilbur, eyes wide as you hastily tried to match his steps. "wilbur, please," you said, breathlessly, "what are you doing?" he ignored you. he was muttering, pacing along the stone path of pogtopia.

why wasn't he listening? he always listened to you. "wilbur, stop, tell me what you're planning." you tried to get him to stop, your lips pursuing when he didn't stop his pacing. tommy had told you wilbur was going to do something, something very horrid yet wouldn't tell you what. he was visibly upset when he had came to you, asking you to stop wilbur.

"wilbur!" you finally shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcefully getting him to stop. "what are you doing? tommy came to me, and - and he was upset! he said you were going to do something!" you stuttered, trying to make him stop. he finally stopped his steps, stopped his murmuring ─ he stared into your eyes for a few seconds.

was this the wilbur you knew? the one you cherished with every fiber of your being? he didn't act the same. the old wilbur, the selfless president of l'manberg, your beloved boyfriend, was kinder back then. he's been acting strange ever since schlatt exiled him and tommy, and you're not the only one that noticed. even tommy knew something was up.

"i'm going to blow up l'manberg." wilbur spoke, finally, his voice cutting through the silent storm in the ravine. bewildered, you could only stare at the crazed man. you couldn't believe what you were hearing. blow up the country he built? blow up the nation he started? "wilbur, that's crazy! you can't do that! we can just.. take l'manberg back, not blow it up!"

he said nothing, just staring into your eyes. you were intimidated, but held your ground. "i already have the tnt," he started, quietly, staring at the ground. "dream gave it to me." your throat tightened. now he's getting help from dream? where's the man you love? the one who used to sing you songs on his guitar and kiss your forehead in the back of his caravan?

"i have to do this, [name]!" he shouted, pushing your hands away from his shoulders. he started pacing again, staring at the stone ground as he rambled on like a madman. "if i can't have l'manberg," he said, looking up to stare you in the eyes again. "no one can." as he furiously went out, leaving you along in pogtopia, you stood there.

what were you supposed to do? could you even stop him? he seemed far too deep within his own ideas, sinking into the thoughts inside his brain. it scared you how much he could be inside his head. revenge was something you'd expect wilbur to get, he was always that type of person, but not like this.

you walked out of pogtopia. you couldn't be there anymore. as you walked out, you ran into tommy. "did you stop wilbur, [name]? please tell me you fuckin' did." he hurriedly asked, somewhat panicked. your shook your head, too ashamed to admit you couldn't stop him. a string of curses left tommy's mouth as he ran off, his swears echoing off the trees.

now, a few days later, as you stood atop the mountain, you felt yourself crumbling ever so slowly. everything was gone. l'manberg was gone. wilbur had blown everything up and per his own request, phil was the one to end him ─ his own father. you felt sick. how could you watch that? as you walked away from the scene, a scene too horrid for you to look at any longer, you thought about his words ─ "if i can't have l'manberg, no one can."

was that worth your life, wilbur soot?

you wondered. you wondered and wondered and wondered, despite there being no answers to your onslaught of questions. after thinking, and thinking for a long time, you left. you left dream smp and pogtopia. you went across the sea to a remote island, where there was hopefully no one else.

and it stayed that way for a while, you all by yourself with only your thoughts to accompany you ─ until he came.

#yall this was kinda fun to write #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #( ♡ ) + bones writes #( ♡ ) + ficlets

[helloalycia]

worth the wait [five] // daisy johnson

summary: the longer Daisy spends with you, the more you realise that maybe nine years isn't enough time to get over her.

warning/s: mentions of PTSD.

author's note: this is the final part, but it was a little long so i’ve put it into two posts. hopefully the daisy stans appreciated it 😊

part one | part two | part three | part four | part six | masterlist | wattpad

I woke with a start, immediately feeling my hair sticking to the nape of my neck and the need to shake off my duvet.

The fear of my nightmare still implanted in the pit of my stomach made me reach for my bedside lamp. I half expected someone to grab my hand in the dark, my imagination working overtime to scare the living hell out of me, but nothing happened except for the lamp turning on.

I sat up in bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. It was just a dream, nothing real. And I knew that, logically, since I was in my childhood bedroom instead of a dark torture chamber. Yet I couldn't stop crying and imagining the worst.

It was getting worse – the nightmares, the anxiety, the nausea. Ever since Daisy and my mum had told me to see a therapist, I knew it was getting worse, but I still hadn't done anything about it. Clearly, things had to change.

Barely thinking about, I found myself grabbing my phone and dialling Daisy's number. I hadn't spoken to her since she came over, and it was my fault things had been left on a bad note. That was only last week and I felt like an idiot as I heard the phone ringing.

"Hello?" her groggy voice came through, and I immediately felt bad.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tried to silence my heavy breathing. "Hey, Daisy. It's, er, it's Y/N. I'm sorry, I– I didn't mean to wake you. I–"

"Y/N?" she asked, voice laced with fatigue and confusion. "Are you okay? What is it? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I said quickly, trying to maintain my shakiness. I brought my legs up to my chest and wrapped an arm around them tightly. "I'm at home. I just–" I flinched, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? My parents gave me your number and I– I didn't know what else to do–"

"You don't need to apologise," she cut me off, wakening up a little by the sounds of it. "I'm glad you called. What's wrong?"

I smiled dryly, wiping away at my tears. "I, er, you were right about me. I should have–" I breathed out deeply. "I need to talk to someone about... yeah. But right now I... I can't go back to sleep."

"Do you want me to come over? I'm not far and–"

"No, no!" I said quickly, slightly embarrassed. "You don't need to– it's the middle of the night. I just– I don't know what I was expecting. I just didn't want to be alone and I didn't wanna wake my parents and worry them."

"Of course," she said reassuringly. "It's okay. I won't come, but I can stay on the phone with you if you'd like? We can talk. Or we can just stay silent. Anything you want."

I sniffled and put my head between my legs, feeling my shoulders relax a little. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother to her.

"Thanks," I muttered, and I wasn't even sure if she heard it. "I'm sorry for how I acted last week... with this."

"We don't need to talk about it," she said softly, her voice raspy as she'd just woken up. "I just want you to be okay."

I closed my eyes, breathing out quietly. I wasn't sure what to say, but the sound of her voice was instantly reassuring.

It was quiet between us, for at least another minute or so, and all I could hear was her breathing on the other side. As much as I appreciated the company, I knew it was unfair of me to keep her on the phone.

Swallowing hard, I said, "Daisy?"

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, knowing I wasn't. "I don't think–" I sighed awkwardly. "I won't be falling asleep any time soon and I– er, you should go. I don't want to keep you on here for no reason."

"It's not for no reason," she reassured. "I'll stay on until you fall asleep, Y/N. You'll get tired eventually."

"But if I don't–"

"I'll stay on."

I nodded, despite her being unable to see me. "Thank you..."

It went quiet again, and I felt my heart rate returning to its normal pace as I distracted myself with the sound of Daisy's breathing. It wasn't hard to tire myself to the sound, as I was already exhausted, just scared. But when I closed my eyes and let her breathing comfort me, it almost felt like she was right next to me, and my fear slowly faded away.

—

When I woke up the next morning, I was drooling on my phone screen as the sun streamed through my curtains. When I wiped my mouth, a yawn escaped my lips and I moved my phone from my pillow, confused to why it was there. But then I remembered the early hours of that morning and felt my face flush with embarrassment. I checked the screen, seeing the call wasn't still on, but there was a text from Daisy.

Daisy: hey, Y/N, I hope you feel better in the morning. I figured you wouldn't want to wake up to me on the phone, so I hung up. Please don't be angry, but I'm on my way over to see you. I just want to make sure you're okay.

That message was sent fifteen minutes ago, so I wouldn't put it past Daisy to already be outside. It was embarrassing, don't get me wrong, but I appreciated that she cared enough to check on me, even after I'd treated her disrespectfully.

I'd just managed to brush my teeth when Daisy arrived. My mum called me downstairs, claiming it was for me, and I tried not to fidget in my pyjamas as I descended the stairs and saw Daisy waiting by the front door. When she saw me, a relieved smile was on her lips.

"Hey," she began quietly, hesitant to say more in case I was mad.

I exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. She'd helped me more than she'd known, and with that thought in my mind, I moved forward and hugged her gratefully.

"Thank you," I whispered into her shoulder, closing my eyes as my arms laced around her neck.

She returned the hug and I sensed her surprise.

"Anytime, Y/N," she replied with a squeeze. "I just want you to be okay."

I nodded, lingering for a moment longer than I probably should have, before pulling away. She searched my eyes with a hint of concern and I subconsciously grabbed her hand and kept ahold of it.

"I'm gonna book an appointment with a therapist," I told her, the thought terrifying me in itself, but I knew it was the right thing to do. "And I wanted to ask if you... would you..." I swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Will you please come with me?"

"Of course I will," she promised, squeezing my hand and earning my attention. "I'll be with you whenever you want." She blinked, clearing her throat with realisation. "I mean, for the appointments, obviously."

Thankfully, her messy words brought a smile to my face and reassured me about the whole therapy thing.

"Thank you," I said, finding it cute how she was the one to avoid my eyes now. "Since you're here, you may as well stay for breakfast. If you're not busy, that is."

"Breakfast. Sure. I'd love to."

I didn't let go of her hand as I tugged her towards the kitchen to join me.

—

Having Daisy back in my life was probably the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

Not only had she literally saved my life as Quake, but she was also saving my life every day after. Whether it was accompanying me to my therapist appointments or hospital appointments, or hanging out with me way more than she needed to, she was more present in my life. I didn't ask her to – it only began when I'd asked her to come to my first therapist appointment – but she'd chosen to. And I didn't want to question it because I'd missed her more than I cared to admit.

My parents took her in as family like no time had passed and I was accepting her back into my life, too, but I didn't want to get too attached. She had a job to do at the end of the day, and knowing Daisy, she wouldn't stay for too long. I guess, in the back of my head, there was still that expectation of her picking up and leaving, just like she used to. Which was silly, since that was years ago, but still...

Despite her presence in my life again, we'd been avoiding talking about what we'd missed in each other's lives. The specifics anyway. I knew she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and found her family, and she knew I became an investigative journalist and did many news packages on different topics, but I didn't know anything more and neither did she. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or if we just avoided it without thinking, but I knew we had to face the music soon.

We were getting coffee after she picked me up from one of my therapy sessions when I brought it up.

"So, my therapist has been helping me with some stuff," I began, staring at my coffee as we walked back to my house. "Stuff outside of my PTSD, that is."

"Oh?" Daisy asked, and I could see her looking at me in the corner of my eyes. "Like what?" 

I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to feel embarrassed as I answered, "Well, we obviously talk about my life. And what happens in it. Who I'm with..."

"Yeah..." Daisy was grinning now.

I rolled my eyes, wishing my face wasn't as warm as it felt. "She noticed you've been dropping me off and picking me up and... you may have come up in conversation."

"Ah, so you talk about me," she said slowly, trying very hard not to laugh. "Did you tell her how amazing I am? Or how beautiful, charming and funny I am?"

I sighed, finally lifting my eyes to look at her. Brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she gave me her usual teasing smile, making me shove her in the shoulder gently. Laughter spilled from her lips and I hated the butterflies in my stomach at the sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, falling into step with me again. "You were saying. Go on."

Looking back ahead as we walked, I said, "Yes, well, we talked about you. And then she recommended that I try to catch up with you more. You know? Because we both talk so much about the good old days and even now, but not the in between. Not the parts that we weren't there for."

I looked back to Daisy when I finished, and she thankfully lost her amusement as she nodded in agreement. I half expected her to take the piss, but she was supportive as she glanced at me.

"I like the sound of that," she said, easing the nerves in my stomach. "So. What do you want to know?"

I cleared my throat, taking another sip of my drink and thinking of where to start. "Okay, erm... why don't we start with your S.H.I.E.L.D. friends? They're your family and I would love to get to know them better. What are they like?"

She nodded thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "S.H.I.E.L.D., okay. Well, you met Jemma. She's basically my sister. Her and Fitz – I think I mentioned him before?" I nodded, recalling her throwing in the name in one of her stories. "They're together and they've been with me since I was recruited a few years ago. We've been through a lot together, but they've got my backs and I've got theirs."

I smiled at the carefree expression on her face. Just talking about them put her at ease and I felt a little better knowing that her time after high school wasn't completely terrible like I imagined.

"Then there's Coulson, of course," she continued, glancing at me every now and then to see if I was listening. "He's basically our dad. He's the reason I'm even with S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's always looking out for me, even when I'm doing stupid stuff."

"So, regularly then."

She nudged me in the arm at my comment, making me chuckle.

"He was how I learnt about my family," she explained. "There for me when I found them. When I got my powers. When I lost my family... he's been there through it all. I'd do anything for him."

I watched her carefully. "He sounds important to you."

Her lips curved into a small smile as brown eyes met mine. "He is."

She continued to tell me about the rest of her team and what everything was like at work, and the whole time she did, she was smiling.

"I'd love for you to meet them all," she finished, and I was surprised at the hint of nervousness in her voice. I didn't think she ever got nervous. "I mean, you've met Jemma, but the others– you should meet them, too. If you want to, that is."

"I'd like that," I said instantly, appreciating the way her eyes lit up and she tried very hard to hide her smile.

She cleared her throat, distracting from the pink spreading on her face, before asking, "So, you basically know about everything interesting that's happened to me these past nine or so years. What about you? Anything life-changing occur for you?" I opened my mouth to answer, and she added, "Apart from travelling around the world and being an investigative journalist?"

I feigned offence. "I hardly think that's fair. That's like me asking you not to talk about working for S.H.I.E.L.D. or being Quake."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she said, "Go on. Tell me something different."

I looked away from her in thought, thinking back to the past nine years. "I guess... oh, I know. I was almost married."

Her jaw dropped. "You were what?"

A laugh escaped my lips at her intrigued expression. She shook her head with disbelief.

"I have to know more," she insisted, before raising her brows. "You? Almost married?"

"It does sound strange," I agreed with amusement, before recalling the event. "It was about two years ago. I was with this guy who worked at the same paper I did. We'd been together for about a year and–"

"–and you realised he had a second family in the Bahamas?" she finished with a roguish grin.

"Very funny." I narrowed my eyes jokingly. "But no. I just realised I didn't love him. Well, I wasn't in love with him."

"Ouch."

"Ouch indeed." I paused, remembering the poor guy's face when I broke the news to him. "It was a month into the engagement when I told him the truth. He was very understanding, but–"

"–but you broke his poor little heart," she concluded, before wrapping an arm around my shoulder and tugging me closer. "Dear Y/N. The heartbreaker."

"Fuck off."

She laughed when she saw me attempting to fight a smile from my lips. Though eventually, one appeared anyway. Daisy always had the ability to bring out the best in me like that – I'd missed it.

"How about you anyway?" I asked, hoping for an opportunity to tease her in return. "Any boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about? Crazy exes, maybe?"

She snorted, swallowing her coffee before giving me a knowing look. "You're gonna need to brace yourself for this one. I doubt you'll believe me when it comes to this."

I rose an eyebrow with curiosity. "Damn, you've got me hooked, Johnson. Proceed."

And of course, that was the first and last time I heard about Agent Grant Ward. An interestingly dark tale of a dickhead of a man whose existence I was glad was no more.

"...so, do I win?" Daisy asked once she finished talking about him.

"Win what?"

She stared like it was obvious. "The best ex story, duh!"

"Wow." I snickered, shaking my head. "I guess you do."

Fist-pumping like an idiot, she said, "Knew it. Nothing ever beats homicidal psychopath almost-boyfriend."

"You need help."

"No, no I don't. I have you."

"Uh-huh."

"Love you, too." 

—

Three months passed since returning from Myanmar and I was finally in a place where I could return to work. Even though I'd been putting together my research and interviews into a coherent news story at home, I hadn't physically been back to the newsroom in about a year.

My therapist had been helping me to treat my PTSD, my physical therapy was helping me get back function in my shoulder and arm, and the injury itself was almost healed, though I still had to wear a cast. Everything was actually beginning to look up.

I'd even sent off the complete news series about what I'd discovered in Myanmar to my editor which got published just before I returned to work. So, of course, as soon as I got there, that was the first thing everybody congratulated me on.

"Views have been going through the roof," Taylor, my colleague and closest friend at work, said as soon as he spotted me walking to my desk. "Your story is all anybody has been talking about!"

"Good to see you, too," I joked, an attempt to disguise my embarrassment at all the attention. "It's only been a year since we last saw each other."

He gave me a grin. "You know I missed you, Y/L/N, get over here."

I rolled my eyes playfully but accepted his hug, being careful of my shoulder. He squeezed me gently before letting go and perching himself on the edge of my desk as I took a seat. It felt strange to be back, but a good strange.

"I still can't believe you're actually here in the flesh," he said after a moment, eyeing me suspiciously. "I've been so used to quick calls and texts where I try to convince you not to do stupid stuff."

Chuckling, I shot him an appreciative smile. "You know I'm grateful for that. Even if I didn't listen."

"You not listening helped you get the best story though," he countered. "I bet you didn't expect S.H.I.E.L.D. to make the bust in the end though."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Definitely not. But I owe them a lot. They saved my life."

His expression softened. "That's another thing... thanks for not dying on me."

"You're welcome," I returned, though appreciated what he meant. "Now. Catch me up on everything I missed. Gossip an' all."

That was enough for him to pull up a seat and remind me of everything I'd missed whilst being away. We'd spoke many times whilst I was gone, but nothing quite beat a good bitching session in person.

Eventually though, our editor ended up interrupting and asked to see me in her office. I wasn't worried in the slightest, but there was still that tiny part of me that imagined the worst.

"You can stop holding your breath, y'know," Karla told me when I stopped before her desk. She seemed amused as she added, "I wanted to congratulate you on the human trafficking story."

Relaxing my shoulders, I raised my brows. "Oh. I– thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

"You put a lot on the line to get the results you did, but it shows," she continued proudly. "You've made an excellent name for yourself and done your fellow journalists proud."

"I didn't do it for that," I said politely, "but thank you. I just wanted to help those people in Myanmar the best I could."

She smiled. "And you did."

"Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. did."

"But you shared the truth, didn't you?" she reminded me. "Don't belittle this achievement."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet and watched as she took a seat at her desk chair.

"I heard that it was Quake who saved you back there," she said curiously. "You know, we've never actually gotten an interview with her. Nobody has."

Oh, so that's what she actually wanted.

"I thought, well, since you know her, you could get us an exclusive?" she asked.

I chewed on my lip. "Erm..."

"You don't have to," she added, noticing my reluctance. "But it could be good for everyone. The city can get to know its hero, you can get a great interview under your belt. And our paper gets all the views. What d'you say?"

I was beginning to regret putting that one quote from Daisy in my article now... I should have known Karla would want more. That was the thing with editors – you give them one taste and they want to eat the whole thing.

"I'll ask," I decided, which she seemed to love. "No harm in asking, but I can't promise anything."

Karla leaned back in her seat, nodding. "Very true. Thank you for understanding. I'll let you settle back into work now. Remember to take it easy, yeah? Don't want to lose my best journalist from overworking herself."

I smiled awkwardly as she laughed, before nodding in response and leaving her office.

It wasn't that I didn't want to interview Daisy, but I didn't want to ruin what we had by asking for a favour. Everything between us was going well, even if it was probably temporary and she'd have to leave soon. I assumed that anyway. And on top of that, I was certain I was falling in love with her again, just like I had nine years ago.

Could you blame me? It was impossible to just remain friends with her when she went through all this extra effort to make sure I was okay. Her kind, considerate, supportive self was always on my mind whether I liked it or not. A girl could dream, right?

After my first day back, Daisy picked me up outside. She insisted when she rang me at lunchtime to make sure I was okay, wanting to know everything about how my first day went. I couldn't find it in myself to say no, so I eventually found her sat on a chair in the lobby when I came downstairs after work.

#daisy johnson x you #daisy johnson #daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #chloe bennet #quake #agents of shield #agent skye #marvel imagine #mcu

[archipelagolago]

The Verve was right when they sang, "it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life"

÷÷÷

[CW: Steve is struggling with depression and long term ED recovery in this one. More info in the tags.]

Steve's awake. Kind of. He's still laying in bed. Staring at the ceiling. Contemplating his next move.

He doesn't really want to go downstairs to get breakfast. He also doesn't really not want to.

Billy's downstairs. That's a pro. Decisions are downstairs. That's a con.

Steve just feels like.... he doesn't want to do anything. Just feels like.... he wants to do everything.

He feels, mostly, empty. In the spot between his lungs. At the top of where he's trying to breathe. And. No amount of anything will fill the void. No amount of nothingness will drown it out.

Sometimes, he wonders, if it's that freaky air from the upside down building a nest in his chest. But he knows that's not it. The void has been there longer than any demogorgon. Longer than spores in the air and vines under his feet.

It will probably still be there after.

Steve's starting to wish Billy would come and coax him downstairs. Make the choice for him. But Billy won't. He tries to let Steve ride out the waves as they come.

So Steve sits up. Rubs at his eyes and groans. Sort of wants to tear at his arms and scream.

But he sits up. And inhales all the way. Exhales the whole way back.

Then he stands. Keeps the momentum by leaving the room, heading down the stairs, walking into the kitchen.

Billy is sitting at the breakfast bar. Working on the crossword. Hair tied up, nose scrunched up, lips chewed up.

He looks up and smiles when Steve walks in.

Says, "Mornin'," even though it's 2:47 PM.

And he keeps it straightforward. Just Mornin', no Good. He doesn't force Steve to pretend. He lets the morning be neutral.

So Steve nods in response. Can agree that it's something like morning for him.

Billy goes back to his crossword.

And Steve spends a solid few minutes staring at the backsplash of his parent's kitchen.

He blinks. Checks out the fridge. Looks through the freezer. Goes through the cupboards. Tours the pantry.

Nothing looks right. He can't find any food he especially wants. He's not sure there is any food he especially wants.

It's been about three years since he was last hospitalized for his 'eating disorder'. He doesn't like that term. 'Eating Disorder'. It sounds like white haired men and cement flavored mom's peering at him over clipboards. Telling him they, 'understand'. They never do. Hopefully never will.

But it's been three years since his last hospitalization. Since his last rock bottom. And things are different. Easier, even. But they're not easy.

Things are complicated. Messy. Unreliable. Billy says they're, 'less like a roller coaster, more like a traffic jam'. And that sounds true.

Billy's trying to hide his slight frown as he pretends not to watch Steve open the fridge for the third time.

Steve sighs. Drums his fingers over the counter. This one decision feels heavy. Could set the tone for the whole day.

The potential options all feel like regret. Feel unsteady.

Suddenly, Billy is standing beside him. Gently squeezing his shoulder.

Saying, "Do you wanna start with some coffee?"

Steve stares at him for a second, thinking. And yeah, that'd work. Graham crackers are good with coffee. It works.

So he nods and Billy steps back to let him go over to the fridge.

Steve pulls out chocolate milk. Fills half a mug with it, fills the rest with water. It goes in the microwave. For a minute. Sixty seconds.

He pulls the instant coffee out of the cupboard while he waits. Gets the graham crackers from the pantry. Puts a few on a plate.

And then the microwave beeps. And Steve takes the mug out and spoons in instant coffee. Mixes it all together.

He sits down next to Billy. Sips at his mug as Billy supports his curly head with his fist. Billy smiles at him fondly, looks at him with love in his eyes.

He whispers, "I love you, Stevie. You know I love you?"

And Steve nods. Replies, "I know."

Billy continues, "I think. I love you more than I can even understand. I hope you know that too."

And so, Steve takes Billy's face in his hands. Shares his coffee breath with a quiet kiss. All of it like, 'I don't know. But I feel it. And that's enough.'

Steve feels un-empty for all of three seconds before the void eats him back up. It's better than nothing.

He finishes his coffee & his coffee dipped graham crackers. Wants to go back to sleep. But, doesn't.

His mind feels tired, void, but his body is restless. Desires more to be felt. It's like.. the eye of a hurricane. He feels some semblance of calm but knows chaos and destruction are lurking just on the edges of his peripheral. The folds and corners of his mind.

Which. Isn't that just reality? Isn't that just living? He's not sure. But, it's all he really knows.

Steve drapes himself over Billy's back after he puts the dirty dishes in the sink. Kinda wants to melt into him.

Billy chuckles, reaches up a hand to ruffle Steve's hair.

Asks him, "What do you think for 13 down?"

Steve hums, meaning he doesn't know, doesn't want to think right now.

So Billy keeps thinking about 13 down on his own, one hand slipping through Steve's hair, other hand tapping a pencil against the paper.

And Steve feels ashamed. That he's not up for 13 down. That, just now, when Billy said he loved him, Steve said, 'I know'. Didn't feel human enough to say it back.

He's sorry. That he can't be enough of himself to be there for Billy as much as he wants to. That sometimes he comes downstairs only to crawl back up to bed. That he's angry with himself for letting Billy love him. He is sorry. It doesn't fill the void.

Steve swallows against the pull of the empty. Inhales heavy. Murmurs, "Billy, Billy, Billy," on the exhale.

Billy responds, "Yeah?"

And Steve says, "I just like saying your name."

Then Billy wraps his arm up around Steve's side, squeezes his shoulder, and pulls him a little closer. Reaches his hand further up to cradle Steve's check and rub his thumb over the stumble on his lover's jaw.

Which is like. Maybe Steve doesn't have too say, 'I love you,' right now. Maybe, 'I just like saying your name,' is close enough.

________

Steve is lying across the couch now. Hiding under a cave of blankets. Uncomfortable.

After he stopped being Billy's cape, he went back to the kitchen. Felt full of unrest and tried to bury the empty in too many servings of caramel fudge ice cream and cheetos.

It didn't work. Made it all worse, actually.

So now Steve is hiding. Maybe from Billy. Maybe from himself. Maybe from reality. Maybe from everything.

He's wishing his blanket cave will swallow him whole. Suck him into some kind of wormhole. Spit him among stars. Trap him in dark matter.

He doesn't know why he does this. This steady-unsteady thing. This empty/more-empty thing. And that might feel worse than the fall itself. The not understanding why. The not knowing how exactly to make it stop.

So, he's hiding. Probably from himself. Definitely from his answers.

He doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to admit the struggle. Maybe doesn't want to fix it. Or is just afraid to.

Billy hasn't said anything about it. Probably doesn't really know how. Because it's not Steve's M.O.

It's an entirely new dance. Though honestly, the rhythm is the same.

But it's not bad like it has been before. It's fine. Kind of. Even though it still feels like searching for comfort and only ever ending up falling, falling, falling. Unravelling.

Steve keeps folding these paper deceptions over and over and over again until they can't bend any further. Until the folds separate into rips.

So. He doesn't want to think about that. He's comfortable enough here, staying hidden.

..

Steve hears Billy unlock the front door. Listens as he walks over and pauses to assess the lump that is currently his Harrington. Sighs as Billy turns around and goes back to the front of the apartment.

Billy rattles around in the kitchen for a bit, putting away the groceries he just bought. Alone. While Steve stays curled up uselessly on the couch.

And Steve feels shitty about it. About moping around all day while Billy has to do all the functioning-human-work for the both of them.

But he still doesn't get up. Doesn't feel like he can. Thinks he might crumble to dust if he tries.

Billy finishes up in the kitchen and comes over, eventually.

Says, "Hey." Sits on the coffee table with his knees inches from Steve's face and, "Glad you moved up from the floor."

Steve grunts but doesn't say more.

Billy sighs. Rests a hand over the crown of Steve's head, the hair sticking over the blankets.

Wants to know, "How long do you think you can keep going like this?"

And Steve whimpers. Pulls the blankets tighter around himself.

Because he doesn't know. Doesn't want to know.

And Billy's voice cracks when he whispers, "Stevie, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can keep watching you go on like this."

Steve knows he means it like, 'I'm so worried about you all the time.' Not like, 'I'm tired of you.' But it hurts both ways just the same.

Like Steve, Billy has good and bad days. Steve has sat on that coffee table in front of the couch nearly as many times as Billy has. But it's different now. When Billy has to try so hard everyday. And Steve can't tell if he himself is trying at all. Because, sometimes, the ups are just as sharp as the downs, and the whole world feels so muddled together that nothing real is discernable.

So Steve doesn't say anything in response.

And then Billy is pulling the blankets away from Steve's face and looking at him with something between frustration and sadness.

And Steve wishes he could've gone his whole life without seeing that look on Billy's face.

But then one of Billy's hands is caressing his cheek. Thumb wiping away at tears that haven't fallen.

Billy's expression is neutral when he says, "Scoot over."

So Steve does. And Billy lifts the blankets so he can crawl under and lay next to Steve.

Billy wraps his arms around Steve and holds his Harrington head to his chest.

And Steve's void lifts for one sweet second more.

#tw eating disorders #tw depression #isa did a thing #bittersweet #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #so yeah this one focuses on the long term struggle that is ed recovery #and the complex ways in which it effects one's life #and the way that interacts with other mental illness- in this case: depression

[geniedocroe]

FOREVER YOURS

(skip muck X reader)

fluff?? idk anymore

a/n: anyways this got requested on wattpad. y’all are free to request anytime you lost xx

wc: 2136

you did not expect to have your best friend crying into your shoulder every afternoon. honestly, you didn’t expect to even be near your best friend on a day like that. you always had plans to stay home and wallow in self-pity all day. that was until skip called you.

before the war, you and skip had been closer than ever. the two of you met as pubescent kids and got into all sorts of trouble. the other people in your neighborhood had definitely deemed you both ‘partners in crime’. there were no complaints from either of you. because in all honesty, skip was in love with you and the feeling had been reciprocated. it wasn’t some sort of unrequited love that was written about in romance novels. it was just two best friends torn apart by the reality of war.

skip was quick to enlist in the airborne (something you weren’t exactly fond of) and you had stayed back at home working in some factory. for years you waited for him to come home. you dreaded getting a call from one of his family members saying they a k.i.a. letter, but thankfully they never did. to you, it felt like a lifetime since you’d seen skip. to him, it must’ve felt like seven lifetimes.

when he came home, he was exactly what you had expected. broken and empty. skip made it very clear that he didn’t want you to force yourself to be the person to fix him. you knew you couldn’t fix him because he was beyond repair, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t fill all the cracks with something new. after all, this wouldn’t happen overnight. it’d take years. maybe even decades. hell, you didn’t think he could ever snap back from this. however, that didn’t mean he couldn’t laugh or the two of you couldn’t be happy. it would come and go, like waves upon a beach. sometimes he was happier for longer, sometimes he was completely reserved and quiet. you were fine with that. it was what you signed up for.

he sobbed into your shoulder for hours on end. he must’ve been in so much physical pain. you could never cry for that long.

“it’s okay to cry. i actually think it makes a person stronger.” you’d tell him.

you loved skip. in your eyes, that was very clear. actually, it was very simple to everyone around you. if you had the chance, you would’ve laid down your life for him. the purest thing in the world was being able to look at someone and just know they were yours. through thick and thin, you had him and he had you. skip knew it, you knew it, all of your friends and family knew it.

most times he’d scream and cry, but never tell you why. you were fine with that. he fought his own battles in his mind. all you could do was sit by and watch. you couldn’t drop into his nightmares and fight away the demons with a sword. you weren’t there throughout the war. you didn’t understand what went through his mind. all you could do was listen. at first, that was all you could do. skip didn’t want to go anywhere. there wasn’t anyone he was dying to see other than you.

years had begun to pass. there was a closing rift between the two of you. though, you did stand side by side through it all. skip opened up to you. he’d try his hardest to explain why he couldn’t sleep through the night. he told you about the time he thought it was all over, and at that moment all he could think of was you. he introduced you to his airborne buddies. they’d say they heard only the best about you. skip would always pull you away before they said too much.

“i’m always gonna be here for you. just say the word and i’m there.” you’d reassure him when the goings got a little too rough.

skip loved you. you had gotten him through the war. skip could so clearly remember sitting in a foxhole and staring directly at a shell that hadn’t gone off. he could hear alex penkala’s distant voice screaming for george luz to jump in their foxhole. then he could see carwood lipton pulling george away. at that moment, he could’ve died. blown to absolute hell. in the shiny metal of the bomb, he could see the color of your eyes. the sizzling of heat hitting the snow reminded him only of your voice singing lullabies to your younger siblings. alex was asking if he was alright and skip had no idea. because you were back home in tonawanda and he was in a freezing cold forest in belgium, yet all he could see was your face.

as soon as the shelling had ceased, skip had pulled out a piece of paper. the letter was addressed to you. he poured his heart onto that paper. every little thing running through his mind was written down. yet skip never sent it. he tucked it away beside his rosary and held it close to his heart. skip never did read that letter after he folded it up. he had gone home after endless years of pain and shoved it into his sock drawer. skip promised that piece of paper was never allowed to be read unless he had grown up and asked you to marry him.

skip was not the type of person to break a promise. the two of you worked your asses off. you could make all the money in the world, but it never compared to what was right in front of you (which was skip). skip worked day and night. he did anything he could. without any trace of a romantic relationship between you two, skip bought an engagement ring. he saved up all his money for one piece of small jewelry. that same night he called you over to his house and asked you to marry him. you never knew what to say when skip had bright ideas like this one, but at that time the only answer was yes. it would only ever be yes.

the night of your wedding, skip handed you a letter that had been as worn out by the war as he was. there were tears in his eyes as you took it into your hand. the date read sometime in january of 1945. you could barely remember that time of year. however, skip looked as though he thought about it every day since then.

january 9, 1945

y/n,

not even ten minutes ago, i nearly faced death. it looked me in my own eyes and told me i was nothing. as it happened, i decided deep in my soul that i didn’t want to die. if it hadn’t been a faulty shell (a shell is a bomb, in case you didn’t know), i don’t think i would’ve felt it. i would’ve known penk was at my side and i would see luz right across from us, crawling through the snow. i think it would’ve been painless. one large blast and suddenly nothing. if i am an unfortunate victim of this war, that is how i’d like to go. no pain, just nothingness.

in case i never see you again, i just want you to know how much you mean to me. i love you more than words could ever say. by the time you’re reading this letter (if you ever are), i’m either dead or we’re married. one can only hope for the latter. hopefully, you know how much i adore you. there is no greater thing in this world than the thought of you as i feel my body getting riddled with hypothermia.

i can’t feel my toes. i haven’t been able to feel them in so, so long. tip: if you’re even in belgium, bring EXTRA socks (also wear the right clothing). it’s terribly cold here. way colder than it has ever been at home. my fingers feel like they could break with the slightest impact. i know that in a time like this, you’re probably cuddled up by the fire. we can’t have a fire here. it would alert the enemy.

the shelling rarely stops. they really are destroying us out here. the enemy knows no sort of mercy and neither do we. some of us are barely making it through this. we’ve lost some great men. i’ve lost some of my best friends. it’s never easy to see one of the toccoa men pass. we are good soldiers. winters likes to tell us that whenever he gets the opportunity.

penk has nightmares. it’s a horrible thing to witness. i have to wake him up just in case he gets a little too loud. i know i have them too, but penk never mentions it. occasionally don will come and visit us. his nightmares are the worst. i haven’t seen him since the shelling has stopped, but if he’s even alive i’ll have to hug him as tight as possible. lip is telling us to stay in our foxholes in case it starts up again. i don’t think i could move if i tried.

i keep thinking about you. i don’t remember the last time i heard from you. it must’ve been before holland. i miss you so much. i wish we were back home. i’d give anything in the world to hear your voice one last time. absolutely anything, you don’t understand. there’s nothing i wouldn’t do.

it’s horrifying out here. skinny had a leg injury and smokey was paralyzed. toye lost a leg and guarnere was badly wounded, so he will probably have to lose one too. hoob accidentally shot himself and passed away so fast that you wouldn’t have even known what happened if you weren’t there. a replacement in babe’s foxhole was shot in the neck. i hear that was a lot of blood. i can't even begin to think about all the other people we’ve lost. it’s been a long and brutal couple of weeks.

christmas was odd. i wish i had been with you, setting up your tree in your parent's living room. i always loved how it was right in the front picture window. it looked like a dream. the snow out here is far from that. i hope you put all the cute little ornaments on. i know you admire those far more than the fancy ones. your mother always hated when we made her tree look “messy”. i hope your parents are well. i wonder what they had gotten you for christmas. were there any presents addressed to me? do they sit under the christmas tree you have yet to take down? will you move them to the back of the closet in your bedroom to sit unopened for years if i never make it home? or will you give them to me the moment you see me again even if it is the middle of summer?

one day, when we’re married and have enough money to buy our own place, i want the big window. i want a big yard and big window and a great big christmas tree. every year we can buy our kids ornaments that they can eventually put on their own tree. maybe we can get a dog or a cat. i’d love to watch a cat bat its paw at the ornaments. imagine a small little dog curled up in front of the fireplace.

i think that when i get home i’m gonna have the fireplace on all year. i don’t think i’ll ever set foot in the snow again. you can take our kids sledding or out to build the snowmen. i’ll stay inside with the dog. we can make imaginary snowmen. i’ll watch you and the kids from the window.

what would we name our kids? how many would we have? where would we live? i have so many questions that i cant wait to answer. maybe by the time you’re reading this, we would’ve already made all the big decisions. tell me, what did your wedding dress look like? am i the man you married? did we elope? or did we have the super huge wedding? please tell me don, penk, and george were there. they are some of my best friends after all. i might have to invite everyone in the company. lord knows they deserve it. i owe my life to these guys. i owe my life to you. after all, i wouldn’t be writing this letter without the thought of you on my mind.

i love you, y/n. i can’t wait to hug you.

forever yours,

skip

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #band of brothers imagine #skip muck #skip muck x reader #skip muck imagine #warren muck

[yumehoxo]

Convinced- eren x reader

(⚠️WARNING⚠️ -this story contains substance use, strong language, sexual content and more)

*Ding*

Connie:

-Yo imma pick you up at around 7:30-ish to be ready.

"Ughh I hope I'm making the right decision" you thought to yourself.

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It's was already 7:12 pm and you haven't even gotten up to change yet, you look at the time one more time and see how late it has gotten and frantically rush to your closet to get something to wear. 'This is such a drag. Why did I even bother to say yes'. You chose a short miniskirt and a cropped shirt and put them on as fast as you can. You ran to the bathroom and fixed your hair and makeup. As your in the middle of doing your make-up Connie calls you. 'Oh no. don't tell me he's here already it's only 7:20' you whined. You pick up the phone call and Connie says.. "Yo I'm in the neighborhood but I'm having trouble finding your complex, mind giving me some directions again?" you sighed, " You have been to my apartment over 20 times now how do you not remember??" You asked. "Look bruh it's really confusing and you already know ian good with directions!" Connie said frustrated. "As soon as you enter the neighborhood you take a right, then two lefts." You said pissed off. "OH YEAHH I REMEM-" you ended the phone call. As you finished off your lipgloss, you grabbed your bag and debated on if you should wear shoes or heels 'I don't even know if I remember how to walk in those' you said looking at your heels, you grabbed your shoes instead. Then you heard it, a rapid knocking at the door, indicating Connie was here. You grabbed your things and did a little jog to the door.

"Woah you smell so good!" Connie said. He was wearing sweatpants and a Dolce & Gabbana long sleeved shirt. You couldn't lie he was a good looking guy and he knew how to dress, and on top of that he's one of the most funniest people you know.

"Thanks Connie" you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "Who's hosting this party anyways?" You ask as you lock your door.

"It's this guy named Jean or something like that" Connie says.

Your eyes widen to the name 'well now I know Alessia is going to be there'. "Wow I guess that's just my luck huh?" You say.

"What do you mean that's 'just your luck'?"Connie asks. The expression on his face is pure confusion.

"We used to date in high school, that's all" you state with a relaxed attitude.

Connie presses the elevator button to get back down to the first floor and he asks "Isn't that, kind of a big deal, like what were the odds that you both went to the same out of state University?" Connie asks.

"I dunno I guess it is." you shrug. 'I mean he isn't wrong I haven't seen him since senior year and I'm now a sophomore, that like what almost 2 years?' Your thoughts get interrupted... "Y/n ... Y/n... Y/N??" Connie basically shouts, gaining your attention back to reality.

"W-what do you want, goddamn?" You ask irritated by his loud tone.

"You weren't answering me, I was trying to ask you are you going to drink tonight?" Connie asks.

"Uhh I don't know yet, I'll see how crazy the party is when I get there, and if it's bad then I probably won't drink much" you say as you open his passenger side car door.

"Drink much?? SO YOUR GOING TO DRINK?" Connie asks excitedly.

"Why the fuck are you screaming I'm literally right next to you? But yeah I am." You respond back.

"O-oh sorry I don't realize how loud I get..." he says scratching the back of his head with a nervous expression.

As you guys are driving you don't even realize that it's almost dark outside as the yellow sunset hits your skin in the car. Connie's music was playing way to loud but you would have to get used to it anyway once you get to the party, 'at least his taste in music isn't bad' you think to yourself. As (s/n) plays in the background. You've been to parties before but since it's been so long, your nerves are through the ceiling and the butterfly's in your stomach are giving you mild cramps. 'Just take a deep breath, you've done this before.'

Before you know it, you and Connie are already at the party, it's being hosted in a big house with it's own gate (that was left open). You can see the flashing lights coming through the windows and as you drive closer you can feel the bass of the music. Connie parks his car off to the side so it's easy for him to get out, and you both exit the car.

"We won't be on the first floor, all the secondary people who didn't get invited personally by the owner or the owners friends stay on that floor" Connie says.

"Reiner invited me since we've been friends since Freshman year" he states.

"Oh okay, hopefully it's more calm upstairs.." you say as you guys walk to the front door.

As soon as the the huge double doors open you can see a sea of people partying. All packed together like it was a concert or something. You see couples making out, girls grinding on guys, people throwing up because they can't take what's in their cup any longer, there are girls without any clothing on waist up exposing their breasts to a group of guys. Connie grabs your hand and leads you threw the crowd. He can see the look of concern and disgust on your face.

"Sorry that you have to see this." He says rolling his eyes.

He grips on to your hand a little tighter since the crowd was getting more packed the further down you go. The finally you guys reached it, the stairs. There is a velvet rope indicating that only a certain few are allowed up there. Two men stood there, one of them smoking a cigarette and the other holding a list of names.

"Name?" The man with the list asks coldly. He had dirty blonde hair and tattoos on the sides of his face.

"Connie. Connie Springer." Connie says back equally as coldly.

You can feel the eyes of the other man landing on you, you can feel him looking at your body and then breasts.

"Your good to go." The blonde boy states.

'Finally' you think to yourself in relief. Just the fact that someone was probably just thinking of having sex with you without even knowing you made you feel uncomfortable. You start walking up the stairs and you can still feel his eyes on you, specifically your ass. You were fuming up 'does he have no shame?!' You think angrily to yourself. You've had just about enough you were about to turn around and tell him off.. then Connie walks right up behind you so it's blocks the mans view. You sigh out in relief.

"Sorry about that, some people just have no self control." Connie whispers in your ear so the man doesn't hear anything.

You and Connie make your way up the spiral staircase, you can imminently feel how much more quieter it gets when you get up there. In front of you guys is a hallway with 3 doors on each side and double doors at the end of the hall. You notice the doors have signs on them. "Vacant" or "Empty". Only two of the doors had the sign flipped to "Vacant".

"There for people who want private rooms, like if only a certain group of people wanted to do something together or if you wanted to hookup with someone." Connie says.

"Yeah I figured, that's really smart." You respond back. You can feel the vibrations of the music downstairs at your feet.

"Thank god were not down there" you say in relief.

"Yeah, that place is crazy all the time I don't know how people find that fun." Connie says rolling his eyes.

Connie opens the door for you. To the right there's a T.V hooked onto the wall and a group of 10 people sitting together just talking. To the left is a mini kitchen. You can see that behind the kitchen is a table with food, drinks, and cups there. You noticed the cups were color coded, three colors, neon blue, neon pink, and neon green. In front of each cup was a sign. In front of the neon blue cups was the sign "Taken", I'm front of the of the neon pink cups was "Not looking for any relationship", and in front of the Green cup was "Single". Connie went ahead a grabbed a blue cup and poured himself the fruit punch and alcohol mixture. Connie was currently dating Sasha but she was on a trip with her family for the holidays leaving Connie all alone. You went ahead a grabbed a green cup for yourself and poured (f/d) in it instead. You weren't going to have alcohol until a little later since it was only 8:13 pm.

"Come on let me introduce to everyone I know" Connie says taking your hand leading you to a room in the back.

Connie leads you to the room which contained a Billiardo table to the very right which two men were using and there was a couch at the back that had a group of people sitting there. You could see Jean sitting on the floor in between a black haired girls legs while throwing darts to the wall. His hair was grown out and he looked much more mature. Next to the black haired girl on the couch was a blonde boy with an undercut. On the couch on the other side was a brown haired boy with long hair tied back into a messy bun, he has tattoos on his right arm and some on his left, and he had stud piercings in his ears. He was wearing grey sweatpants with a shortsleeved shirt with the word "Primitive" on the front. They shirt wrapped perfectly around his sculpted biceps. You looked away to make sure nobody notices that your staring. Next to him is a blonde girl she was somewhat tall and had facial bangs. There are two girls on the floor, another blonde girl but she was short and more petite and another girl next to her with brown hair and freckles flirting with her making the blonde one blush. You realize Jean and the black haired girl cups are blue. You also see that The blonde boy and the girl next to the brown haired boy guys are also blue. Everyone else's cups were green. 'A lot of taken people' you think to yourself.

"WOAH NO WAY" you can hear Jean scream locking eye contact with you "IS THAT REALLY YOU Y/N?" He says while getting up. You can tell the black haired girl is staring him down.

"Y-yeah. It's been so long!" You say while side hugging him. You can smell the faint scent of marijuana on him. The black haired girls eyes reach you staring you down, looking at your breasts and body figure. You turn your head to the back of the room Where a tall brown haired boy and blonde hair boy make their way to you.

"Yo Reiner!" Connie says while dapping him up.

"Yo Connie!" He says back. His eyes land land on you, locking eye contact.

"Connie who'd you bring with you?" He said with a smirk on his face looking at Connie and then right back at you.

"Oh this is y/n, she's normally a homebody but she finally agreed to come with me to one party" Connie said while rolling his eyes.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Reiner." He said while sticking his hand out indicating to shake hands with him. You shake his hand, and he holds on a little longer instead. You manage to let go without being awkward or rude a flash a smile at him. 'What the fuck.' You think to yourself . You can see the brown haired boy next to him seems nervous and a little shaky. He look at him and smile and he gives you a nervous smile back.

"H-hi my n-name is Bertolt" he says clearly shaken up. Connie slaps his hand onto Betolt's shoulder and says..

"No need to be shy Bertolt just be yourself! Nobody is going to like you if your going to act so shy." Connie said with a cheeky smile on his face.

"Hey, I'm Y/n" you say with a smile on your face, making him blush even harder.

"Anywaysssss enough of that" Connie says while taking you to the group of people at the sofas.

"Everyone, this is Y/n L/n" Connie says 'I can introduce myself dickhead' you think to yourself.

"I'm Armin, nice to meet you!" The Blonde boy says sweetly. 'He's like a cute cinnamon bun' you think to yourself. You smile sweetly back at him.

"I'm Annie. I've actually seen you around we have a class together." She says with almost little to no expression on her face but you can tell that's the way she is. "Actually i remember you; you sat next to me in that chem lecture one time!" You say back.

" I'm Mikasa." She stated coldly. 'Damn mad at me already? I barely fucking did anything.' You think to yourself but not daring to say it out loud. You force yourself to smile  'I hate these type of things everything seems so forced' you think. "Nice to meet you" you say while giving her a fake smile.

"H-h-hi I'm H- histori-a" the blonde girl said barely managing to get any air as the brown hair girl is choking her from behind. "And I'm Ymir" she says with a huge grin across her face. You start laughing at their greeting. "Y'all seem close " You say as you sit yourself next to them Connie following behind you, finding a seat facing it backwards, and then sitting in it so his chest could be resting in the back side.

"I'm Eren, Eren Yeager." The brown haired boy said in a relaxed tone but you noticed his eyes went to the top of you, to your feet, and back up. 'Goddamn who gave him the right to be so hot' you thought to yourself. "Nice to meet you, Eren." you say in a relaxed tone making sure you hide your nervousness.

As the night went on, Reiner and Bertolt came to join you guys. After many attempts of Reiner trying to flirt with you he gave up as he got a drunk. They talked about all the drama that's been going around, who's dating who, who got arrested, who got so fucked up "that one time". They more they talked the more they drank. After awhile you saw it was 11:15 pm and you finished what was in your cup. You left the room and made your way to the kitchen to see if they had any good alcohol drinks, you open the fridge and grab and vodka bottle and pour yourself a shot. You jump up and sit on the counter and took a look around, everyone who was once watching infront of the T.V were either asleep or on the balcony outside. 'Ahhh some peace and quiet' you think to yourself then you remember that Alessia told you she hooked up with a guy named Jean 'wait a second something doesn't add up how could have she hook up with Jean if Jean has a girl friend?'  You go on your phone to see if she put anything on her story and she did.. she was a black haired boy who was tagged with the name "Jean". 'ohhh okay so it wasn't the Jean I knew' you thought to yourself relieved. You grabbed your bag to get the blunt that you rolled before you came... as your looking you realize you can't find it, you frantically search through your bag"what- where is it I swear I brought it?!" you say frustrated.

"Brought what?" A familiar voice asked, you froze for a slight second startled by it. You turned to to see who said that, it was Eren. He was even taller then he looked when he was sitting down.

"O-oh my god you scared me" you responded back sounding startled.

"Oh sorry I didn't mean too, I thought you heard me open the door." Eren said. 'Wait is that piercing on his-' you realize your staring too long.

"It's fine don't worry about it, but I brought a blunt with me before I came but I can't find it now." You say back.

"Damn maybe you dropped it somewhere." He responded not breaking eye contact with you as he comes into the kitchen.

"Y-yeah maybe.." you say back. 'Why's he coming over here?' . He walks over to the fridge and grabs a drink, leans his back against the fridge (which is right in front of you). After 15 seconds of silence he strikes up a conversation

"If you want I have a blunt? But we have to share." Eren says.

"Wait are you sure?" You ask him feeling guilty.

"Yeah it's no big deal" he says while smiling at you.

You were right he does have a tongue piercing.

"Thank you so much" you say back.

As you guys share the blunt you both start talking about your school schedule, turns out that you have the same lunch break and most of your classes are the same just with different teachers. By the time the blunt is finished both of your eyes are bloodshot. You look at his arm he has a tattoo of a dragon, 'that's the same one I have' you think to yourself in utter shock 'how did I not notice?'. Just to make sure you ask him..

"Do you mind if I see your tattoo really quick? You ask him.

He walks closer to you and lifts up his sleeve exposing the whole tattoo and arm. 'Wow he's so built' you think to yourself. You take a good look at his tattoo it confirms your theory, it's the same tattoo that you have. You got it the second you turned 18, it symbolizes 'strength' a lot of people have it but it's still quite rare to see someone else have it.

"Wow I was right!" You say excitedly.

"Right about what?" Eren asks confused. You lift up you one side of your crop top exposing the right side of your rib cage, showing him your tattoo. He puts down his drink next to you and asks..

"May I take a closer look? Only if you don't mind though." Your face turns a little red the thought of him being that close to you kind of scared you.

"Y-yeah s-sure." You say nervously. He brings his face closer and looks up at you realizing how red you are. He smirks. He traces over your tattoo with his thumb. Just his touch makes you shiver a little 'goddamn why do I have to be so nervous he's not even doing anything!'  You feel your face getting hotter as he traced it. Then you feel it, he places his whole hand on your waist and pulls you closer.

"W-what are you doing? You ask him super embarrassed as your face flushes an even darker shade of red. He gets up close to your ear and whispers.. "What? Are you just going to act like you haven't been thinking about this all night? I've seen the way you've been looking at me." Eren said with a smirk on his face. Just the way his breath feels on your ear made you shiver. You slightly spread your legs a little open so he can fit right in front of you. He grabs onto both of your thighs and pulls them more towards him making your entire body come closer to his. You can feel your skirt slight hiking up the more you legs spread apart. He looks you up and down before leaning in and gently kissing you once, his lips felt soft against yours, you can smell the scent of mint and weed mixed together, you can feel him smile against your lips. He clearly knows how much  your enjoying this. He kisses you again this time more passionately, you feel his hand move to your lover back pulling you even more closer, you wrap your hands around his neck and give in. He bites softly on your bottom lip making you moan slightly, he takes this chance to force his tongue inside, asserting his dominance. You fight to not let him win,you try your best, but you lose. He slowly stops, and kisses your lips tenderly one more time. Then he places his lips on your neck playfully nibbling at your neck, he finds your sensitive spot, causing you to stifle a moan, you can feel his smile against your skin. The coldness of his piercing against your skin makes you want more. He continues sucking,kissing, and licking your neck for a little longer and then he stops. He gets up close to your ear and says...

"Why don't we take this a private room? I would hate if anyone interrupted us." he said with his eyes full of lust.

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                                                                                                          Authors note:

This took me awhile to write I have a headache now lmao

Anyways if y'all could please lmk if I should change anything or if there any errors I would appreciate it 😌💞✨

#eren x reader #eren yeager smut #aot modern au #attack on titan #tonguepiercing #x female reader #anime #eren yeager #x reader #anime reader #aot x reader

[strongsassysexysloane]

Seventh Day of Twelve - A Soundtrack to your Curious Mind

See below link for previous days drabbles

When it's a quiet day at home surely they couldn't get away with sneaking another gift under your nose.

. . . .

For a Monday morning it really didn't feel like one. First, you got to sleep in, second was that there actually wasn't a call in, nothing. It was sweet, the kind of morning where when you wake up with the feeling of being late for something and then realising you have nothing to worry about and roll back over. And that's exactly what you did. You didn't fall back asleep however, just laid there thinking over the past week, a smile curving your lips with the memory of each present.

The chocolates were amazing, the flowers were surprisingly wonderful, you'd never say no to free coffee or food. The gloves were sweet but necessary and the photo was special, the perfect addition to your desk. Everything was personally picked and picked especially for you. There was that warm and fuzzy feeling again.

You rolled out of bed with the feeling that it was finally the weekend. Putting on a pot of coffee to brew you wondered around the house. Taking in the morning rays mixed with the icey chill of the new layer of snow over night.

While the coffee was dripping you opened the front door to retrieve your paper. The wide grin appeared on your face once more as you found a small brown box lying on top of the morning News with an envelope attached. You ripped open the envelope to find a typed letter.

Dear y/n,

Here's a little something I thought you'd like. I hope your CD player still works.

Thinking about you,

Insert who you hope it is here.

You laughed at the last part. There was no hint to point you closer to the person you hoped it would be. Although one thought came to mind, this was hand delivered so it couldn't be Jack.

Your heart dropped a little at the thought.

You put the letter aside and looked at the gift inside. The CD was in a paper sleeve with hand written list of songs. It was a mix of everything from P!nk, Walk Me Home to Wonderwall by Oasis and a few you hadn't heard of before. It was an interesting mix, you hadn't gotten a mixed CD in we'll ever so this was a bit special. The handwriting on the sleeve didn't look familiar, you could pick Jack's handwriting up easily. It was cursive but messy, this was cursive but neat and less slanted than her's.

You sipped your morning coffee and had a piece of toast while examining the letter and CD more closely.

Later you found the CD player was tucked away in a cabinet along your hallway. You grabbed it out when a thought came to mind. You weren't quite sure why it hadn't earlier, which made you put on another pot of coffee to get the brain ticking quicker, but they knew you had a CD player. The last time you had it out was at your 90's themed birthday party. There was a lot of people from work there that night so now your options were a little more varied. Your mind, more like your heart, kept pointing out that one of those people was Jack. However Jack was in NOLA, was it such a crazy idea that she had gotten someone else in on the plan?

No, she wouldn't do all this.

You slipped the CD in and blasted the tunes while you did a few chores to get your mind off the mystery person. Music always helped getting the hard jobs done and the songs were really good. Some you hadn't heard in years.

It wasn't until around lunch time that you finally texted Jack.

- How's the food coma going? :P

You didn't have to wait too long.

- Almost comatosed but the case keeps distracting us. How's your day off? Got any new surprises?

- Sounds like you might be there for longer than you thought. It's good, got the chores done and dusted while bopping along to my new tunes that my secret Santa left me.

- Secret Santa hey? Thought you had a secret admirer.

If only. You kept that thought to yourself and the one question that you really wanted to ask her and went with...

- Trying not to get my hopes too high. Still can't figure out who it is.

The replies stopped, along with your heart but you got on with the rest of your day which consisted of nothing much more than checking your phone every other minute even though you turned the volume up. You popped on a movie while flicking through your phone.

Half way through the movie your phone started to vibrate and you got all excited thinking it was a certain blonde. It wasn't but you weren't complaining either.

"Hey Kase, what's up?" You smiled, pausing the movie and getting up for a drink of water.

"Jimmy and I are going for breakfast tomorrow and thought you might want to join. It's all good if you don't, being your day off an all." Her tone was chipper, you knew she was at work, she'd helped with the case on Saturday but got an early mark and had to come back in today to wrap everything up.

"Work or no work a woman's gotta eat."

You heard a chuckle through the line. "You sound like Bishop and Jimmy."

"He said a woman's gotta eat?"

"Something like that. Meet you at the Diner around 7?"

You held in the sigh of being up so early but agreed and said your goodbyes. It was early for a weekend for you but seeing two of your favourite people outside of work made it worth it. Taking your tall glass of water, you sat back down on the couch and continued the movie. The next vibration on your phone came through minutes later.

- Sorry, got a lead. If this pans out I might be home sooner than expected but don't get your hopes up. I still need to find Ellie a present that's allowed on the plane. Dwayne doesn't think I'll be allowed his gumbo.

You laughed at the thought of Jack trying to carry a bowl of gumbo onto a flight just for Ellie. If she could take it with her she probably would.

- That's exciting, my hopes are under control. I can only wish for one thing at a time right now. I'm sure Ellie will be happy with a candy bar from the airport.

Ellie would be happy with any sweet she got. You both knew that but you knew Jack wanted to get her something specific. Something she couldn't get in DC.

- That's understandable but it is Christmas time. Miracles do happen, looks like I'll be home in a day or two. Looking forward to seeing you...

You over thought the last sentence for too long and now felt weird about what you might send as a reply. You were looking forward to seeing her too but could you say that? You wanted to kick your brain for this.

- I like this kind of miracle. Hope everything goes to plan and I can see you at work in a few days. It's quiet without you.

Simple but had meaning if you read between the lines which you know Jack does.

The texting continued on into the night. She even sent you another picture of her dinner which only made your sad salad even more sad. You would definitely need to do some grocery shopping tomorrow but nothing you could cook would live up to anything Jack was eating down south.

. . .

This one didn't seem to flow as much as I liked but I have work early and wanted to get it up at the usual time.

Hopefully you all like it :)

#ncis #ncis fanfic #ncis christmas #ncis reader insert #ncis x reader #ncis 12 days of christmas #jack sloane #jack sloane x reader

[marsbutterfly]

The Scientist’s Gamble - Part 2

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Summary: As the formation rides out, Hanji takes a moment to meet your eyes, and you smile at her. Today is going to be a win for humanity, you think to yourself. You could not be more wrong.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

After an hour or so peacefully riding your horses towards the forest, you begin to feel the floor shaking in the distance. Not long after, the first red flare is fired. A Titan. Thinking back on your knowledge acquired studying Titans with Hanji, you know it is a 5m from the way the ground is trembling - not tall enough that it will necessarily take more than a couple of Scouts to kill, but could still cause damage if it wasn't stopped in time.

You move your face to the right, enough so you can look at Hanji to see if this is the one she wants. She shakes her head - she doesn't want a regular titan. You know that that crazy look in her eyes can only mean one thing. She's after an Abnormal. Goosebumps travel up and down your body, and you reposition yourself on your horse to face forward once again. Without even realizing it, a smug smirk spreads across your face. This is going to be so fun!

"Reiner! - " you scream. Your throat hurts from the effort you put into the sound, yet you still prepare yourself to do it again.

" - I need you to ride to the center of the formation. Inform the Commander that if an Abnormal appears, bring it closer to us. Tell them they should not kill it unless absolutely necessary!"

"Of course," Reiner screams back, allowing his cloak to fall back against his shoulders. His blonde hair ruffles in the wind, a ridiculous smile plastered across his face, "but I'm just curious," he says, and you know exactly what's about to come out of his mouth before he says it as he yells, "Who the fuck put you in charge?"

Before you even have time to laugh at his stupid comeback, the beautiful brown haired scientist riding alongside you responds, "I did!"

Eyes wide, his lips scrunch up as he turns away to avoid eye contact with you and Hanji.

"Now go, Reiner!" Hanji says.

"Yes ma'am!", is all he says before he steers his horse left and rides out of sight. He doesn't give you the chance to say anything in response.

You can feel the laughter bubbling up in your chest, from deep in your throat to burst out of your mouth. You try to hold it in until the blonde soldier is out of sight, but you know he can hear you.

Tears form in your eyes as your stomach starts to hurt. You just can't keep it in. The look on Reiner's face is the funniest thing you've seen in a long while. Once you finally manage to slow down and take a deep breath to pull yourself together, you look over to Hanji to find she's been carefully watching you the whole time.

"Thank you for defending me!", you shout, flashing her the biggest smile you can manage.

"Of course! I'm not going to let anyone undermine you! You are my second in command right now! You know me better than anyone else! That's what makes you such an amazing assistant," her grin widens, "and an amazing friend!"

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks once again, but before you can reply, you notice something in the corner of your eye.

It's a black flare.

You and Hanji lock eyes for a brief moment before you both let out an excited scream at the same time - "LET'S GO!"

.

You can see it now. The Titan is easily 7 meters tall, if not taller. It has blonde hair and brown eyes, and a relatively normally-proportioned body and facial features, but you notice it's walking with a strange limp. At its ankles, the Titan's feet were pointed in the opposite direction they should be. Yet, it runs ahead eagerly as if nothing is different. You've never even thought this was possible.

Perfect! You think to yourself.

You stand up on your horse and switch to your 3D maneuver gear. You shoot your grapples around the top of a tree branch and swing on top to land on your feet with a sense of balance that you're proud of. Multiple horses ride toward where you and the rest of the Scouts stand above them. The massive titan follows the Scouts closely, too close for anyone's comfort, but they're not giving up.

Once the monster is close enough, you and Hanji share a look before you run towards it, preparing yourselves to jump down on its shoulders, cut off its limbs, and strap it to the floor before it regenerates.

Data collected on previous missions showed that it takes approximately 4 minutes for its arms to regenerate, but it shouldn't take you that long to trap it. You're all extremely prepared for this, you've practiced for this and almost every other situation.

Now it's the time to prove you know what you're doing - except nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

The trap used to capture the titan is a fraction of a second late. You're already in the air, arms flung back in preparation to cut its underarm when you notice something is wrong.

Everything happens in slow motion as you see it's massive arm intercept the cables of your grapples, yanking you like a yo-yo across the trees. Your body collides against one of the many enormous trees surrounding you. The pain shoots all over your body. It is too intense, and your vision gets more clouded by the second. You could hear Hanji screaming your name, but you didn't stay conscious for much longer than that.

A few minutes pass by, but the damage caused by the titan makes it seem like much longer. You could see bodies all around you, at least 10, 15. Your comrades, your friends, dead because of a mistake out of your control.

Huh?  you think, and that's all that goes through your brain at moment. There is blood dripping down your face, and you're unable to tell if it's yours, the Titan's, or to one of the many bodies lying next to you.

A 5m titan wanders closer to you with every second, and somehow you manage to pull all the strength left in you. Your body is finally forced to sit up, despite all the pain, in your head, your bones, your heart.

"Why is this happening? This is not how today was supposed to go. We prepared for this expedition for weeks!" suddenly you stop talking. Your mind starts spinning as you desperately look amongst the pile of bodies, searching for one in particular.

"H-Hanji?" you manage to force out a whisper, but as soon as you take a deep breath, all the pain you were feeling, the grief for your fallen comrades, the rage towards titans, "HANJI!"

As you become more aware of your surroundings, the warm blood dripping down your face and the pain of your broken ribs are almost enough to make you stop fighting, but a small voice in the back of your head says: You need to find a way out of this forest and back home. You can't let the titans win!

You grab your blades and swing them with all your might, trying your hardest to keep the 5M Titan away for as long as you can until you have a plan. The truth is you just can't die now, but you also can't fight for much longer as you feel your body starting to cave in. The pain from your ribs is becoming unbearable, and your lungs feel like they will collapse at any moment. With every breath is getting harder to breathe. You want to keep fighting for longer, but in your condition, it just doesn't seem possible.

It's alright Y/N, you think to yourself, Your efforts weren't enough, but that's ok. Putting the blade down, you accept your fate, but hopefully, it will be quick. You close your eyes as the massive hands wrap around your already crushed body.

"Oh no, you don't!" someone screams, and their voice is the last thing you hear before passing out once again.

.

You wake up to a bright light shining in your face. Your eyes open slowly, groggily.

Is this the afterlife? No. You can hear the saline dripping, in what kind of afterlife would you be hooked up to an IV in?

The pain in your head travels all over your body as if it's using your veins to move around. You try to readjust, but stop when a new pain shoots through your chest. You count one, two, three broken ribs. It could be worse. At least you're still alive. Your eyes slowly travel down the bruises that cover your body. Some scratches, stitches, broken fingers and toes. You are not even certain that you still have all of your teeth.

The shape beside you shifts ever so slightly, but it's enough to catch your attention. You turn to look, and into focus comes Hanji. Her head lay on her arms, which rest on top of your mattress next to your right hand. This is one of the few times you've ever seen her hair down - it looks a little messy, but it's still as beautiful as ever. Her glasses are folded on the bedside table in front of her. How long has she been sitting here?

"Han...ji..?" The effort you put into making the sound for only her name to come out is considerable. It scratches and burns, to your frustration, but the weak noise is enough to get her attention.

"You're awake!" she says as tears fill her tired brown eyes. "I was so worried about you - please don't ever do that to me again!" A small hiccup forms in the back of her throat. Her lower lip quivers.

The mere sight of Hanji crying is enough to shatter your heart. You try your best to comfort her within your confines. You reach to touch her hand, eyes softening. The sharp pain of your ribs again forces you to gently recline your back on your pillow once again, but you hold her hand tightly.

"What happened?" you ask.

"The Abnormal we were trying to trap moved faster than anticipated it would. The soldiers fired the net approximately 1.9 seconds late but it was enough to derail the entire plan."

She lifts your hand to plant a kiss on it, almost like she was buying herself time before she had to tell you what the rest of the losses were. Flashes of memories come back to you snippets at a time, not enough to give you a full understanding of what happened, but enough to make your heart sink.

Hanji continues, "Your jump would have been perfectly timed if everything had gone according to plan. When the Titan got out, it tangled your line, and you went flying into a tree." You remember the pain you felt at that moment, you've never felt anything like that before. You could remember clearly the sound your ribs made as they broke.

"After that, it became clear to everyone that our mission had failed, and by the time Commander Erwin gave the retreat order, the Abnormal had already eaten everyone around you. Your body was laying among all the corpses around you and I thought I lost you forever -" Hanji abruptly cuts herself off. She catches her breath and closes her eyes to compose herself.

"I heard you scream my name. I ran back to find you, and you were in the Titan's hand. I couldn't let that happen, obviously. I cut off its arm and caught you while Captain Levi went for the nape. I carried your body to the medic's cart, and I haven't left you since."

"How long?" you croak.

Hanji sighs, "Four days."

"And you've been here the whole time?"

Hanji smiles. "I only left for bathroom breaks."

You roll your eyes, but for a few moments, you forget about the pain covering every inch of you. You were never one for impulsivity but now, your body moves on its own. You're more than familiar with how this scene plays out - you think about it constantly. Your hands shake, and you feel your nerves getting worse the longer it takes.

You've been wanting to do for this for years, and now you have the perfect moment. After what happened, you need to kiss her, even if it's the only time you ever do. So, gently but quickly enough that you can't take it back, you grab her face and pull her to your lips. As they seal together, Hanji is taken by surprise, but just as quickly melts away in your embrace. She places her arms on your shoulders as you deepen the kiss.

It's exactly the way you imagined it would be. Goosebumps rise on your body in response to her soft breath against your mouth. A tiny sob escapes your lips as you're all at once reminded you of how much it hurts to move. But that doesn't stop you. After what feels like hours, you pull away reluctantly. You don't want this moment to ever end.

The bright red blush covering her cheeks makes her look even prettier than usual. She gently touches her lips, looking off into the distance like she's lost in thought.

You pull her back into the moment "Squad Leader..." you begin, taking a deep breath and forming fists with your hands. You gather every ounce of courage you have in you. It's now or never. "I've been in love with you for quite some time, and I should've said something before but I was scared."

Once you've started talking, the words pour out of your mouth.

"Now that I almost became Titan food, I don't want to keep it in any longer. I love the way your eyes sparkle when you're talking about Titans. I love the way your hair falls over your shoulders when you're training, and the way you adjust the straps of your glasses. I could sit here and list everything that's great about you because you are the most amazing person I have ever met."

Your hands start to shake, and your throat burns with effort, but you push out your most important statement. "I'm deeply and completely in love with you, Hanji."

Her mouth hangs open slightly.

Did I just make a huge mistake? It doesn't matter - I had to get this off my chest, you think to yourself.

She's extremely quiet for a few seconds - no more than a minute, but enough time for you to start panicking.

"Since when?" she asks.

"Since I listened to your guest lecture on titans when I was still in the Training Corps."

"Why haven't you said anything up until now?"

You can't help but laugh. "Everyone in the Survey Corps, and probably everyone in the entire military already knows. I just assumed you weren't interested."

"Huh?? I've never noticed!!" she says, waving her hands above her head. You laugh again as you readjust yourself on the bed. "But now that I think about it, I guess you did hug me a lot for no apparent reason... and Erwin did insist that you be my assistant..." she counts off on her fingers, "and you always blushed when I touched you and - oh wait."

She looks down at her legs, her fingers flying to fidget with her hair. "I can't believe I didn't notice..." Her blush spreads deeper once the realization hits her. "The truth is, I've been liking you too, but I thought you liked Captain Levi, or Eren."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head. Hanji laughs, standing up to wave you over to the other side of the bed. She lies beside you on the hospital bed, placing her head on your shoulder while carefully lacing your fingers together. She's careful not to bump your injuries. The smell of her hair awakens the butterflies in your stomach, and you place your chin on her head to wrap your free arm around her shoulder.

"I'm glad you're alive." Hanji says. Her voice is barely audible, her words meant for you alone. "From now on, I won't leave your side. You'll be out in the forest killing titans in no time."

You smile. "Right now, there's no other place that I'd rather be than right here next to you." She looks up at your face, flashing you a grin before she pulls you closer, and your lips close against each other once again.

.

A week later, you listen to birds chirp outside of the window while you read your book. The sunlight feels warm and nice against your legs, and the rare silence you're in is much appreciated. It doesn't last long.

"Y/N!!!!!!!!!"

The door barges open to reveal a gaggle of teenagers stumbling over one another.

"Y/N! I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU!" Sasha yells as she runs to hold your hand, but her attention quickly shifts to the half-eaten bean soup on your bedside table. She looks at the soup, and then at you once again.

"You can have it, Sasha," you say with a smile, gesturing to the small bowl. The starved brown-haired girl doesn't lose a second and instantly starts to devour it. A giggle escaping your body as you watch her.

"How are you feeling?" Eren asks before sitting on the bed.

"I'm alright, but I'll need to stay behind during the next few expeditions. I should be good as new in a month or two!"

They stay with you for a little less than an hour, telling you all about their experiences with the failed mission. You find out from them which soldiers were lost and which were injured, along with other small details Hanji didn't mention.

A knock on the door causes all eyes to turn away from you for a moment. Hanji starts to enter, and then gasps as she realizes you have guests.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks.

You flash her a caring smile while reaching your hand out to grab hers. She blushes slightly, but sits beside you. "Of course not. I was wondering where you were," you say. Mikasa makes eye contact with you, and then looks pointedly at your hands as they sit clasped. You blush too.

"Meeting with the Commander," Hanji sighs, "It went on for longer than expected, I'm sorry."

You could hear the giggles coming from your friends as their eyes rest upon you and Hanji.

"We should get going now, but we'll be sure to come over again soon!" Armin says as he and Mikasa push the rest of the group through the door.

Hanji leans forward to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, and when you open them, you meet Mikasa's emotionless gaze from a crack in the doorway, Hanji's lips still on you. Your eyes widen, but Mikasa just nods, face unchanged, and closes the door behind herself.

"They're good friends to you," Hanji says after a few seconds.

You smile."They're also a handful. But yeah, you're right."

A long, rather comforting silence passes between the two of you. During the silence, you take time to focus on how soft her skin feels against your fingers, tracing the visible veins on her hand as your mind drifts away. You're pulled back to reality as soon as you hear her voice.

"It's a beautiful day outside, would you like to sit on the grass with me?"

.

The breeze rushes through your messy hair as you adjust yourself on top of the blanket. You squint your eyes and places your arm against your forehead in an attempt to keep the sunshine from hurting your vision.

"There's something I want to ask you, Hanji," you mumble.

"Yes?" She inquires, tilting her head while looking at you.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" The expression on your face remains the same as when you had been peacefully basking in the sun, but you can hear your blush rushing, heart pounding in your ears. She looks away while blushing, and you're able to notice a smile appear on her face.

"There's nothing I would like more," she says, turning to face you once again. "Well maybe an abnormal, but I do want this a lot."

"You're impossible!" you say while gently pushing her arm.

As you two laugh, your bodies get closer as if they are moving on their own until your lips are sealed in a love-filled kiss. You wrap your arms around her neck while she grabs your hips, slowly pulling you onto her lap.

"I'm in love with you, Hanji." you whisper against her lips, not wanting anyone else to hear these words but her.

"And I'm in love with you, Y/N."

You hug her tightly, feeling her hair against your face as the smell of her shampoo fills your nose. For the first time since you started to prepare for the now-failed mission that led to your injury, your body isn't in pain anymore. You can relax in Hanji's arms, knowing that your long time crush is finally your partner. You can worry about researches and experiments and missions later, right now all you need is Hanji.

"Let's stay here for a little while longer," she says before resting her back against the grass, carefully pulling you towards her. Your head rests on her shoulder as your fingers lace together, a feeling of peace takes over your body knowing that from now on, you'll have her by your side no matter what.

"Yeah... I would like that." You say as you close your eyes, focusing on her breathing as the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze lull you to sleep. Maybe the next time Hanji comes up with the idea to capture another titan, you'll stay in the lab instead.

#my sunshine #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe x reader #fanfiction #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hanji zoe/reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction

[bluedemon1995]

Hope you like this latest chapter. I think, I'm almost done with this one. Please comment and let me know what you think. I'Ve gone back to rotating my focus so hopefully you follow all my stories!

Pidge POV

While everyone is busy planning Pidge can't keep her eyes off Matt. His hair is longer than hers, pulled back in a messy pony tail. She vaguely remembers her mom scolding him and saying she was going to cut his hair if he didn't go with dad to the barber. It's funny how memories are popping up now when he's right in front of her. He has a scar on his forehead but otherwise looks very similar to her. Same eye color, same hair. Hell, his is probably nicer than hers.

It's like she's in some strange alternate universe. But if she being honest... it was also very scary. Because, if one thought about it rationally, everything she thought she knew for the last ten years was a lie.

Everything.

She wasn't alone. She wasn't an orphan. And isn't that the rub. She could've had a family, all this time. It could have been her and Matt. It makes her sad to think what she missed out on. Birthdays, holidays, or anniversaries of the accident. Where she suffered alone. And even when Lotor was with her he never really understood. He never realized what she felt or was going through. And looking back, she could see he didn't even really try to pretend for her either. And that just made her feel so much more alone.

At some point she would just hide away in her room and work herself to sleep. She felt like she was in a tunnel suddenly, with her breath hiccuping and her vision wavering. Oh God, she can't breathe.  She had to get up. She had to move. But then she ... felt an arm slip around her shoulders and pull her close. Warmth. Heat. Her heart rate started to sync...Keith. He was here. He was real.

And she didn't care that he was FBI or law enforcement. Because with him she didn't feel alone.

She was not alone. She turned in his arms and just held on. It's funny how someone she only knew for such a short period of time could mean so much to her. Yet here she is. Surrounded by people who are on her side. And Keith.

Re-centered, she focused back onto the conversation going on around her. Glad for once there were so many people in the room. It was a few hours after the big reveal and while Keith's apartment was cramped with so many people, for once it didn't make her feel like running or hiding away. Hunk had prepared a spaghetti dinner complete with homemade bread and salad. It was hilarious when Lance questioned Keith having the ingredients for bread and Hunk sheepishly admitted to stocking his pantry, 'for emergencies'.

When she looked at Keith, he whispered, "I didn't even know I had a pantry!"

And when Lance was outraged that he didn't have a stockpile. Hunk replied that since Lance technically still lives at home, his mom has their place well stocked! Then there was Krolia and Kolivan. Kolivan finally returned with his report and Pidge could see how he'd fit in the the biker gang image. He was a tough guy but when he spoke he was so quiet and calm. It just inspired her trust in him.

Then of course, there was Matt. He was nearby, constantly finding excuses to touch her arm, hand or shoulder. It was odd. She wasn't a touchy freely person and yet, she was so happy that he seemed happy to have found her too. Despite what she had been involved in. Finally dinner in hand, they  were seated all around various parts of Keith's living room.

Finally, I voiced a concern that was nagging at me. "Shiro, have we ever...met? I feel like I recognized your voice somehow? Or even your...shape?"

Matt replied, loudly, "Shiro and I were gaming friends long before we ever met. So, I would be playing games with him and you'd be in my room. So you probably did hear him but I don't think you ever saw him. But after the accident and rehab, I mentioned I needed to go to school and he convinced me to go to the same school as him. So, with nothing left to lose I did. I have a family picture of us, so Shiro has seen you before. Plus, let's be honest, we sorta look alike."

Pidge nods, "That makes sense. Unfortunately that's about the only thing that does."

Matt counters, "Okay, now that we are fed. We need to focus. Plan. I'm betting Lotor's dad is behind this. But Katie, do you think Lotor knew as well?"

She thought about it but replied, "Probably not. His dad does not respect him and they aren't close. At all, so I cannot imagine him telling a pre-teen Lotor anything. Maybe he encouraged him to be my friend but nothing overt."

Shiro nods, "Okay so why?"

Everyone is quiet, thinking.

Keith POV

"Let's take it from a slightly different angle. How did Zarkon benefit? He's pretty self serving. There is no way he didn't get something out of this."

Matt picks up, "Yeah, I'm thinking it has to do with the project my dad was working on. Some kind of weapon. I know once he died, the project did too."

Keith counters, "Then why separate you two? What are we missing? What does Zarkon desire or want?"

"Money, every bad guy wants money." stated Lance firmly.

Hunk countered, "Power, he likes to be the big kahuna. Maybe this weapon would have cost him that."

More answers were kicked around when Pidge interjects, "Control. From what I see Zarkon lives for control. In every aspect. So by causing the accident, he needed to control for the outcome or at least several outcomes. No one could have predicted Matt would be thrown from the car or I would be stuck in it. Let's be honest, people survive accidents all the time. But he prepared for all possibilities. Sooooo, that means he got something out of it. But what did he gain control of? I didn't get any money. Or things.”

Keith guesses, "Maybe he knew that the weapon mission would fail but he also knew that your dad got much farther than maybe he imagined. Do we know what the weapon was?"

Matt replied, "I tried looking into it but I couldn't get further than it was a top secret project. I've hacked into several sites over the years looking for more data but it's very cryptic. In fact it doesn't even sound like a weapon at all. More like an organic compound really. So

"That's it!! I remember mom being a gardener but really she was probably a botanist. So Zarkon has control of all drugs running in and out of Galra City. And if anyone wants in they need to bow to him. He's expanded his network and this is what Lotor was trying to beat him at. Althea. But what if there was a way to diminish his hold? What if they created something that was a weapon only in the hand of the Garrison or police? I remember her telling me that nothing is untraceable. And no one is untouchable.”

Krolia speaks up, "Zarkon has a big footprint. If we could know what drugs are his and track it someway, it would go a long way in stopping the flow. But his network of them getting the drugs into the country is, well a mystery. If we could figure that out. Well, that would be a game changer."

Everyone is quiet. Finally, Katie looks up, "So Matt, I think you need to show me what you have. If our parents were killed over this, well, they had to be close."

Matt nods, "Definitely."

Hunk interjects, "Uh, I could probably help. I'm really good at making things or finding patterns."

Keith grins, "Well, while you guys figure the item, why don't the rest of come up with a battle plan or trap?"

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #keith and pidge #keith x pidge #pidge and keith #alternate realities