#what's going on what am i missing why am i over here watching a series that seems to be far more fucked-up than other peoples?

[moonstruckme]

I know nothing about spencer actually, since I never watch his series. But I read on one of your fics that spencer is germphobia?

Could I request one where spencer gets home after a case for a week and found reader sick in the bathroom?, and she's kinda locked herself since she knows spencer germphobia?

You know that kind of fever where you sweat and throw up nonstop

It's been so long after you write spencer. I miss your spencer a lottttttt TnT

Thank you for requesting! I’m not totally sure if Spencer is canonically confirmed germophobic but he’s definitely sensitive to germs, so we’ll roll with that :) 

cw: nausea, vomiting

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 832 words

You’re not at your best, shaky and sweaty, but when you hear the front door open you move quick as a flash. 

“Hello?” Spencer’s call echoes through the apartment. 

“Hi,” you say back, quieter than you intend. Still, he finds you easily, and you’re glad you reacted fast when the handle on the bathroom door jiggles. “What are you doing here?” 

Spencer’s taken to staying at your place, but when he’d called you from the jet to tell you his case was over you’d said to go back to his apartment. With what he knows about how sick you’ve been the last couple of days, you thought he’d listen. 

“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he answers simply. He doesn’t try the handle again, but his voice sounds just on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” 

“I’ve been better,” you admit, breathing through another wave of nausea, “but I’ll be fine. You should go home.” 

“I am home. Open the door.” 

“Spence,” you sigh. The tips of your fingers are cool against your temples, and you press them in to quell the uneasy feeling that comes with having your brain so muddled. “You don’t want to come in here.” 

“Why can’t I decide that?” There’s an odd scraping sound on the other side of the door. 

“Because you’re too nice. I know how you feel about germs.” The mutinous acid vat of your stomach revolts again, and you cough a couple of times, swallowing forcefully. 

“I’m just as likely to get sick from pressing an elevator button,” Spencer insists gently. “Seriously, let me in.” 

“Go home,” you plead. 

“I’m coming in.” 

You sigh, bending to lean your head against the cool porcelain of your tub. “What, are you going to kick the door in?” He’s told you about his coworker Morgan doing that, but you don’t think of your scrawny (though you love him for it) boyfriend as capable of such measures. 

“Not quite.” Another scraping sound, and you sit up as your bathroom door tips outward. Spencer catches it before it can fall, easing it down onto the floor before stepping over it. He’s taken the whole thing off its hinges. 

“Show off,” you say tiredly, too spent to do anything about it as he walks over to you. 

“Yeah, well,” Spencer lifts some flyaway baby hairs off your neck, cool knuckles pressing to the hot skin, “I didn’t want to damage your door. You didn’t tell me your fever was this bad.” 

“I told you I was sick.” 

“I feel like ‘sick’ is more or less ambiguous,” he says, not unkindly. His touch moves to your face, long, slender fingers laying down across your forehead. “How high is it?” 

“Dunno.” You swallow thickly. “Haven’t checked. Are you okay?” 

“I touched a dead body yesterday; so long as I shower after this I’ll be fine. How have you not checked?” 

“I can’t—find—” You cough as bile rises in your throat, bending over the toilet “—the—” 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Spencer rubs your back. Your coughing turns into retching. “I got it. I’ll look for the thermometer soon, okay?” 

You nod, tears pressing at your eyes as you dry heave. The muscles in your throat and abdomen spasm painfully. 

Spencer makes a sorry sound, his hand coasting up and down the ridges of your spine. “You haven’t been eating anything, have you?” It’s not really a question. “We need to get something in your system. You know that ‘starve a fever’ saying is an old wives’ tale, right?”

He sits with you until the fit abates, then stands and leaves the room. You hear cabinet doors opening and shutting, and before long he’s got a wet rag cooling the back of your neck, you’re sipping water out of a straw, and he’s sticking your previously missing thermometer in your ear. 

“I’ll probably have to go soon if I want to get to the store before it closes,” he’s saying quietly, free hand settled comfortably north of your knee. You’re trying really hard not to breathe in his face. “It’d be good to have some cheerios or something for you to eat, and something with electrolytes.” 

The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it close to read the screen, a frown pursing his pretty lips. 

“Are you sure you want to stay?” you ask, though at this point you really want him to as well. “I don’t want to freak you out.” 

Spencer sets the thermometer aside. “You’re not freaking me out,” he says, hands gentle as he takes the rag from your neck and folds it onto a new side before putting it back. You almost sigh. “The worst thing that can happen is I get sick, and” —he meets your eyes, mouth tipping upward as he shrugs— “if that happens, it can’t be helped. But if I went back to my apartment, and I was fine there but you were still sick here by yourself, well, what’s the point in that?” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #tw vomit #tw nausea

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (6) - A Proposition for You

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 6 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 4911

Work count for Story: 23,924

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, arguments, comfort, Alpha Space, close proximity, and scenting.

Story Summary: The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?

“Excuse me, Sirs. We have arrived at the AirBnB,” the driver announces through the van's intercom system. The voice pulls Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook's attention away from the scenting session. 

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Jungkook calls out loud enough to be heard past the petition between the driver’s and passenger seats. Looking down, he trails his fingers through Jimin’s hair as the tiny Alpha is now sprawled out across his and Taehyung’s lap with his eyes closed. 

“Minie, we need to get out, my little love,” looking at Taehyung, “Tae? Are you good now?”

“Hmm. Yeah, Kook, I am doing better,” Taehyung opens his eyes, returning to their clear brown. Lifting Jimins legs off his lap, Taehyung moves from his seat and opens the van door. 

“Minie, you cuddle bug. Time to go, I know you are nowhere near a scent high, so please get up so that we can get Y/n to see the doctor.”

Jumping up from lying on Jungkook’s lap, Jimin stumbles out the door and over to the first van, “I will get their door!”

Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle as they watch the dancer trip over one of the van's chairs, but he manages not to fall onto the curb before beelining it to the other van.

“Hey, Tae. Are you going to be okay around Y/n?”

“I think so. It might be better for me to keep my distance until she isn’t in as much pain. I think that is what is causing the most issues for my Alpha. Well, that and keeping away from that pathetic excuse of a Director.” Taehyung growls out the last part.

“I think it would be best if we all keep away from him, though I think Manager Sejin and Namjoon will have to at least deal with him a few more times.”

“Better him than us. Why don’t you go with the others, and I will help out with the luggage so that everything is where it should be?” Taehyung hugs Jungkook around the shoulders, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook looks closely at Taehyung, smelling his clear and unbothered ebony wood. “Alright, hopefully, the doctor will be here soon. I think time has flown by faster than we think. It is already starting to get dark out.”

Buzzing. All you hear is buzzing as your brain short circuits. The desire to melt into the man holding you and run from the predatory eyes of the men watching you causes your body to tense and twitch. 

Suddenly, the van door opening seems louder than it should. It startled you into finally moving away from them and out of the van. 

You didn’t realize how stuffy the van had gotten, but the intensity of the scents within the van does not go unnoticed by Jimin as he watches you bolt from the van right past him towards the packhouse. Yoongi followed close behind with a smirk on his lips.

“What did we miss being in the reject van?” Jimin asks no one in particular. 

“Oh, you guys missed quite a bit, but we will talk about it later. Maybe once Miss Y/n goes in with the doctor,” Namjoon says as the rest leave the van. 

Jungkook walks up to the group and watches you with a confused look. Manager Sejin also joins them.

“You all realize she has no idea what she is to you. She isn’t going to understand why it is nice that she is so instinctually responsive,” Manager Sejin comments using air quotes.

“Yes, Manager-nim. She just was… ah it is hard to explain,” Hosek bashfully responds as he looks at the floor.

“Well, she isn’t my mate, and I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to break it to her, but you are going to have to be careful. I know that much.” Looking at you, a softness of worry crosses his face.

“Do you guys know that she wouldn’t even ask for a bottle of water when she got to the van because she didn’t want to take something from the pack?”

“I have a feeling that she has had to be the one to take care of others and put herself last. She won’t ask for help, and accepting help will be hard for her. Especially, since you guys are so well-known and established as a mate-bonded pack.” Manager Sejin looks at his watch, down the street, and then back to the gathered group.

“The doctor should be here in a few moments. You might want to get her inside and settle in one of the unoccupied rooms, Namjoon-ssi.” 

Manager Sejin bows respectfully to the group and heads to the luggage van, where he can see Taehyung giving directions.

You walked quickly, not running, up the stairs to the front porch—fresh air—cool Air. It was non-steamy, good for your heart, and not going to make you lose your job and blessed air. 

Taking deep breaths, you hope to clear your mind, slow your heart to a normal pace, and regain professionalism from wherever it is hiding.

Muttering to yourself, you are unaware that Yoongi has followed you, but he keeps a distance while listening to your utterances. His smirk grows to the point his eyes are almost closed. Now that you have calmed down, you turn around and almost run into him.

“Ahh! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I need to get you and Evie both a bell. It must be a feline thing.” Glancing past Yoongi you notice Taehyung coming up the steps with some of the staff carrying in the luggage, “Should get one for him too.”

Chuckling, Yoongi shakes his head, “No bell. No house cat. Jaguar.” Taking a step closer, he sniffs, “Better? No conflict?”

You can’t help but smile softly at his concern: “No, I am fine now. I just haven’t had much skinship as one might say… outside of my family pack, as you call them.”

“I know it is a big cultural thing amongst hybrids and even more so depending on the kind of relationship involved. I guess I was just taken back by all the … all that.” You say, gesturing towards the van as if it were explaining whatever was happening inside. 

Yoongi nods in understanding and takes the last step to be by your side, facing the rest of the pack. His tail again wraps around your waist, and you giggle in amusement, returning his attention with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you keeping me on a fur leash?” You ask, pointing at his tail on your waist.

Yoongi looks down at where you are pointing and looks at his tail like he doesn’t realize that he ever put it there, to begin with. With a glare like he is scolding a child, his tail starts to let go, which pulls at your heart a bit.

“It’s okay, Alpha.” You say as you stroke along the very soft black fur, laying it back in its place, “you are keeping me close and safe like a good Alpha should. Thank you for protecting me.”

Yoongi preens at the compliment while holding back a shudder at the feeling of you petting his tail. His Alpha is happy that you recognize his needs and are allowing him to continue.

“Mr. Min,” you start to speak only to get cut off with an indignant huff.

“Yoongi. Alpha. Not, Mr. Min. Yoongi.”

“Ah, umm. Okay. Yoongi,” you say with a blush as you avoid looking him in the face, “I want to thank you for helping me not land hard on the floor back at the office. I am sure I would have been in worse shape if you hadn't tried to catch me.”

“Hopefully, you know that I do not blame you for my wrist. It was just really bad timing.”

“Still hurt. Keep safe for healing,” Yoongi says, leaning down to catch your eyesight and hoping you see the truth in his words. 

The truth is that he will keep you safe not only while you heal your wrist but also your heart and soul.

“Time to go ahead inside. Jin, can you make some snacks with Hobi for everyone? The rest will help with the luggage, and I will go with Yoongi and Miss Y/n to one of the guest rooms on the first floor.” Namjoon instructs the pack.

With different forms of agreement, the boys take off to do their assigned tasks. Seokjin and Hosek smile sheepishly as they pass you, heading to the kitchen.

Namjoon walks up the stairs, his ears flicking to the street as he hears a car approaching, which could only signal the doctor’s arrival—leaving the greeting to the manager.

“Miss Y/n. Yoongi. If you please follow me, I will take you both to one of the guestrooms that you can use to meet the doctor in. We have some snacks being prepared and will bring those soon as well.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to eat in one of the bedrooms, Prime Alpha Sir. Plus, my stomach isn’t feeling so well with all the pain,” ‘and the emotional waves’ you add on in your mind.

Leading you both into the house, Namjoon nods his head, “I see. I am sorry it took so long for us to get you seen. We normally heal rather quickly as hybrids. I think we kind of forgot that humans cannot do that. Sorry.”

“No worries, Prime Alpha Sir. I have a high pain tolerance, according to my mom and Derek, but I guess there is just so much that has happened in a short time that my body is just kind of everywhere. I am sorry if my scent is causing any problems as well. I know it must be all over the place.” 

At that last comment, you feel a tug at your waist from the tail, causing you to stumble back into Yoongi. Who buries his nose in your neck, similar to how you were being held by Hosek in the van, causing you to blush as you regain your footing. 

“Smells good. Not bad. Y/n in pain but happy,” he says as he releases you. This time, he grabs your good hand and pulls you into the room that Namjoon has opened. 

The room is significantly larger than your bedroom, that is for sure. The walls are off-white, with a dark purple accent wall containing a sitting window. The bed is a four-post queen with deep purple curtains tied back with black lace complimenting the purple and black bedding. All the furniture is in a dark, almost burnt-looking wood with iron accents.

You look around the room with your mouth agape. “It’s so beautiful here, and look!” you exclaim as you walk to the adjoining bathroom. “It comes with a private bathroom!”

Namjoon and Yoongi smile at each other as they smell your sweet pea coming out in waves with a hint of more jasmine, which the boys now understand is an indication of your happiness. 

“There is also a walk-in closet, but my favorite part is the sitting window. Perfect to read in,” Namjoon adds.

There is a knock at the door, though it is standing wide open. The three of you look over to see the manager, Jungkook, and a woman with an old-fashioned medical bag standing just outside the door.

“Pardon the interruption, but Dr. Blackwell is here,” Manager Sejin states, motioning to the woman beside him, who bows.

“Dr. Blackwell! It is good to see you again, please come in. I am sure you were informed that Yoongi is in Alpha Space and will probably like to stay but I will step out if it is needed,” Namjoon greets Dr. Blackwell with a firm handshake. 

Dr. Blackwell is a younger-looking woman but still older than you. Her hair is in a French braid, and she is wearing a pantsuit. Setting her bag on the chest at the end of the bed, she looks at Yoongi with kind eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Kim. I was informed and you are correct, since the patient is not a member of your pack then you will have to leave. Technically Mr. Min should leave as well but I will leave that up to the patient.”

“Oh, umm…” Looking between the doctor and Yoongi, they both seem to await your decision. “Mr. M,” you are cut off by a huff and a tug around your waist, “Sorry, Yoongi can stay for now. If anything gets too private then I ask him to step out.”

Yoongi’s actions cause the doctor and Namjoon to pause before looking at each other. Dr. Blackwell speaks first: “Mr. Kim, I was informed that Mr. Min believes to be responsible for the injury. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that is right, and as a mate ~cough cough~ bonded pack we are all here to support them.”

“Oh. I see and that would explain the familiarity. Thank you, Mr. Kim, that is all I believe I need from you now. Unless you want me to check out your cough?” Dr. Blackwell teasingly asks the Prime Alpha who turns slightly pink.

“Nope, I got it. You got it. Yeah. We will head out with the rest of the pack. Gonna be waiting in the dining room near the main kitchen if you need anything or need to kick Yoongi out.”

Namjoon bows to the doctor and then smiles at you as he walks out of the room, taking Jungkook with him.

In the kitchen, the two eldest have finished preparing snacks and drinks for everyone, including the staff, who gathered around munching on them. 

Pleasant conversations are happening here and there between everyone present. Everyone seems to avoid the topic of you since no one really knows what is going on except the pack and the manager. 

Namjoon watches from the entryway with Jungkook. He has always felt proud of his pack and how they treat the staff like a pseudo-family pack. They have seen other idol groups treat their staff like stepping stones, which never felt right to any of the packmates.

“Hey, everyone,” Namjoon says loud enough to gain the room's attention. “The pack has to have a pack meeting while the doctor is here. I invite the staff to take some of the prepared snacks to the guest house across the lawn and settle in. We won’t be needing any services tonight aside from Manager Sejin.”

“Namjoon-ssi, I will also head over to the other house to settle in, but I will keep my phone on me. Please text me when you need me, and I will come right over,” the manager responds while holding a tray of rolled-up meats and cheeses.

“Sounds good. Bangtan Pack, we need to meet in the dining room. Grab what’s left and come sit down.”

With that, the kitchen is filled with goodbyes, see you later, and other pleasantries as everyone departs. Namjoon, knowing that he doesn’t do well in the kitchen, simply turns and heads to the dining room they will use for the pack meeting. 

The rest of the boys grab what they can. The energy in the dining room is heavy, and they know that they have to discuss this, but the situation is odd. Once everyone is seated, Namjoon takes a look around the table. Each of his mates looks at him expectantly.

“We can all agree that she is our mate, right?” The Prime Alpha asks, wanting to make sure they are at least starting out on the same page. A chorus of agreement floods the room, lifting a weight off their shoulders. 

“Hyung?” Jimin tentatively speaks up.

“Yeah, Jimin, everything okay?”

“Seeing how everyone has reacted to her, I agree that she is a mate but I want to be honest that I haven’t had any time for my Alpha to respond to her. Actually, to be transparent, he backs away whenever she is close. I don’t know why.”

Jimin looks down and picks at the tablecloth until a Hobi takes hold of his hand. “Jimin, you were close with our last playmate and were the first of us to connect with her on a deeper level of friendship. She broke that trust with you,” Hobi begins.

“I am sure that I was not the only one who was shocked that you wanted a new playmate out here. I didn’t say anything because I figured you were trying to rebound.

However, rebounding by finding a new friend is different than finding a new mate. It will be difficult for you and some of our other mates because very few of us have had any experience outside of the pack.”

“Minie,” Jungkook chimes in. “I know you are nervous, and you keep trying to find a way to be around her but not at the same time, which is okay. But you need to make sure to listen to yourself and your Alpha. It is okay if you are not jumping into it head first like some of us are.”

“Hobi and Kook are right, Jimin.” Namjoon finally speaks up. This goes for everyone. We will all take this at a comfortable pace for us and, more importantly, for her. Manager-nim reminded me that she has no way of knowing what is going on and is most likely fighting her instincts because we are already a pack.”

“Remember how long it took us to convince Kook he wasn’t a toy? Or how Taehyung did not open up fully until after Jimin finally took it into his own hands?”

“She is gonna be like that.” Seokjin states, gaining everyone’s attention. “We need to watch ourselves. Some of us are more instinctually driven, but that could drive her away.”

“With that being said… does anyone have any suggestions?” questions Namjoon.

“Yoongi will end up being her safe space, I think.” Taehyung comments more to himself than to anyone.

Hobi shifts in his seat, remembering how self-conscious you were in the van before he speaks up, “She reminds me of myself. She doesn’t have a good self-image. We should each spend time with her.  Show her who we are off-stage, as a pack, as mates with each other, and encourage her to join in.”

“While I think that is a good idea, she won’t join in,” Jungkook interjects. “She wouldn’t ask for a bottle of water for the worry of taking from the pack, how will she accept cuddle time or scenting?”

“True, and besides that, how are we gonna keep her around for us to interact with to even prove anything to anyone,” whines Jimin. “This is so complicated.”

“Six to eight weeks! You have to be kidding. You expect me not to be using my wrist for upwards of eight weeks? What about work? Can I shower? What about chores?” You loudly speak to Dr. Blackwell in response to her diagnosis of a hairline fracture of your wrist. 

Yoongi’s ears are flat at either your yelling or the feeling of failure. His tail had curled around his own waist during the examination, and your pain levels tinted your scent with mold.

Ever remaining calm, Dr. Blackwell continues, “It would be best if you sought help during that time,” looking at Yoongi, “and since you have a respectable pack responsible for the injury there should be nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Mr. Min.”

Yoongi nods with an almost blank face as he tries to hide his disappointment in himself. Internally, scolding himself for breaking his mate during their first meeting.

“Mr. Min, I think it would be best to get your Prime Alpha to discuss anything further,” Dr. Blackwell instructs.

Looking briefly at you while you are looking at the floor, cradling your wrist, Yoongi leaves the guest room, quickly seeking out his pack.

“Miss Y/n, have you dealt with hybrids?”

“Yes, my family pack, as Bangtan puts it, consists of a beta fox and omega munchkin, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I see. That makes sense. You were the Alpha in your pack and that is why you don’t understand what is happening around you.”

Snapping your head up, you look at the doctor. “What do you mean?”

Taking a tentative step forward, Dr. Blackwell places a hand on your shoulder, “It isn’t my place to say anything more than I already have. Just take a moment to think back to what you have learned about hybrids, and be open to the pack around in the next coming weeks.”

“Why would I be around them for weeks?”

Yoongi’s scent hits the dining room before he enters. All eyes are on the door as he comes in with his head hung low. He looks around the table with a frown on his face, and he mumbles, “Broke mate.”

Jin, being the closest to him, reaches out and pulls him to sit on his lap. Being Yoongi’s only hyung, Yoongi goes willingly and tucks his nose into Jin’s neck, “Hyung, I broke mate.”

“Yoon, it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose. It was strictly an accident,” Jin whispers while rubbing soothing circles on his back. The pack pushes out calming scents into the room.

“Yoongi-hyun, can you tell us what the doctor said?” asks Jungkook.

“Broke wrist. Weeks healing. Need Pack Alpha.”

“Joon, go talk with Miss Y/n and the doctor. Get things figured out. We will take care of Yoongi,” Jin instructs, subtly pulling the elder card again.

“Yoongi, you have done great, and I am sure she doesn’t blame you,” Namjoon says as he walks to the hall, stopping. He looks back to the table. “Kookie, come with me, please. From how the scents are coming down the hall, we might need your tact at calming her down.”

A knock on the wall gains your attention. You see a toothy smile shine at you before he comes bounding over and joins you on the bed. His enthusiasm takes you back, then giggle as he lays his head on your lap, grabbing your left hand to rest on his hair.

“Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable,” you say, smiling as you scratch softly on his hair.

“Are you still in pain?” he asks as his eyes close at the soothing feeling of your fingers.

“No, Dr. Blackwell gave me something for that, and it kicked in a few minutes ago. Though it’s going to be painful for a while,” you inform. Looking up, Namjoon stands next to the doctor with a sweet smile.

“Dr. Blackwell, can you explain the situation please?”

Nodding, she turns to the Prime Alpha, “Mr. Kim, Miss Y/n has what I suspect is a hairline fracture. To be certain, I would need to take her to the local hospital but given your situation that would not be a very easy task.”

“I can say with certainty that be it a hairline fracture or a severe sprain, she will have to wear a brace and not use her wrist for six to eight weeks.”

At the reminder of the weeks of difficulty that will come, your scent turns watery as worry creeps into your mind.

“As you all know, I am both a hybrid and a human doctor which brings me to the next issue at hand. While Miss Y/n is kind of heart and forgives Mr. Min of any wrongdoings, Mr. Min, according to the hybrid culture, is responsible for her recovery.”

“Wait, my recovery? I thought it was just to get me to see you?” Your eyes bounce between the three others in the room.

“That is correct, and as Prime Alpha of his bonded pack, we will provide for her over the next eight weeks. We have the space, the means, and the power to do so, Dr. Blackwell.” Namjoon says, holding eye contact with you. His voice gave no room for argument. 

“Prime Alpha Sir, you… the pack… my work… how?”

“Not to interrupt, but I will excuse myself as this is now a pack matter. Keep that brace on as much as possible. I will leave my report with notes for your employer explaining your health situation and a vial of your pain medications on the dining room table.” Dr. Blackwell says as she gathers her things and bows, leaving the room. 

“Miss Y/n, Dr. Blackwell is right. This is a pack matter now and I think speaking with everyone together would be the best idea. If you would join us, we could talk about what to do next?”

“Umm, yeah. We can do that. I can do that.” 

Moving to stand, Jungkook moves out of the way and holds your good hand, leading you toward the living room where the pack is now gathered. 

Seokjin and Yoongi are on the medium couch, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hosek are on the long couch, and the only open seat is a loveseat. 

You move to sit on the loveseat only to have Jungkook pull you to the couch where Seokjin and Yoongi are. “Jin-Hyung, can we sit there with Yoongi?”

Noticing that Yoongi gets stiff at the question, you say, “No, no, that is okay. I think Yoongi has had enough of me. I can sit somewhere else.” However, not only does Jungkook not let go of your hand, but a black tail finds its way around your thigh.

“Sure thing, I will sit with Namjoon.” Seokjin smiles and moves to sit with his Prime Alpha on the smallest couch. 

Next thing you know, you are sandwiched between the bunny and jaguar. Yoongi is on your right, his tail still wrapped around your thigh, with the tip sliding up and down almost absentmindedly. Jungkook is on your left, still holding your hand and resting his head on your shoulder.

Your body relaxes as you lean back on the couch, looking around the room. Mind making jokes about having a fur leash again despite Yoongi not looking at you since you entered the room and how you seem to have become a bunny pillow. After some thought, you realize that you don’t actually mind either action. 

Someone clearing their throat pulls you from your thoughts. Looking towards the loveseat, you see Namjoon sit up straighter and take on a look that clearly shows that it is the Prime Alpha talking and not the cute, funny Namjoon you have seen clips of on Instagram. 

“Bangtan pack, Miss Y/n has a hairline fracture of her right wrist,” at this information, a collective hiss of sympathetic pain comes from the other members. 

“She will be required to wear that brace and limit her use of that hand for the next six to eight weeks. This brings up some causes of concern for Miss Y/n.”

Namjoon looks at you to continue, “Umm… well I am right-hand dominant so doing pretty much anything is going to be complicated. I only have about four days of sick pay saved up right now. So, going back to work will be a hurdle all on its own, not to mention doing any kind of chores or cooking.”

Your eyes wander across the group as you speak. They all look at you like you are speaking something other than English or Korean. When your eyes come to a stop on Yoongi, he is finally looking at you with his eyes now a deep brown.

“Y/n, stay with us,” Yoongi states, not asking. “I am a respectable Alpha Jaguar and it is my honor to care for you back to health. My Alpha already told you outside that he would keep you safe until you are healed. I am here for the long haul.”

Your eyes widen at his declaration, and your mind blanks on what to say or how to respond. 

From your other side, Jungkook cuddles into your side, his nose nudging your neck softly, “We all will be here for the long haul.”

“They are right, you know. We are a bonded pack of mates and we would love to have you stay here with us so that we can take care of you,” Hosek adds. 

Breaking eye contact with Yoongi, you took to Hosek as he and the others on that couch smiled genuinely. “What about my job? I cannot leave my work. I have to pay for my flat and food and stuff.”

“Y/n,” your head snaps to the Prime Alpha, “is it okay if we call you Y/n?”

Nodding, you turn your body to face him directly. Your left hand, still holding Jungkook’s, is gripping tightly, trying to ground yourself. 

At your agreement, the Prime Alpha smiles, showing off dimples as he continues, “I figured that you would worry about a few things like that.”

“The room you met with the doctor in is yours while you stay here with us… at the pack house. When we say that we will take care of you, we mean it. We will cover all your expenses; it’s not like we lack the funds to care for anyone. Lastly, in order to keep a job to cover your everyday expenses, such as your flat, cell phone, etc., going, I have a proposition for you.”

Holding your breath, your eyes wide at everything he has said so far, you gulp, “What is your proposition, Prime Alpha Sir?”

“Become our playmate.”

Previous / Next

Taglist - Open

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[nostalgia-tblr]

It's time for me to admit something.

I am still a bit confused about how back in the beginning of the Loki series Mobius is introduced to us as "special[ising] in the pursuit of dangerous Variants." But like. That doesn't seem to be a thing that the TVA really... do? They mostly seem to spot nexus events and pop to the new branch and prune it, bringing back the person who caused that nexus event to give them a show-trial and then prune them too.

There's no reason they can't do more than one thing, but what exactly are "dangerous variants"? From the TVA perspective they're all equally troublesome, and they'll be picked up as soon as they do something 'wrong', and the TVA/HWR don't actually care about the moral value or otherwise of that 'wrong' thing. Have I got that right?

They're chasing Sylvie but a) she's targeting the TVA themselves and b) she's got a means to travel from one timeline to another, which she got from the TVA and unless those get stolen a lot..

I'm willing to just roll with it anyway if it doesn't really fit but what am I missing here? EXPLAIN. (pls?)

#loki series #this has been bothering me for a while but nobody else ever asks about it so i assume i've just missed some crucial info here? #and so to me it's been like the Dangerous Variants stuff is a leftover from some earlier draft of the story? #one of what i consider the Fandom Misconceptions is the idea that the TVA/Mobius actually care that TVA!Loki's been a bad boy. #but they don't! he was *supposed* to be a bad boy so actually he wasn't doing anything wrong as they'd see it (until he ran off) #the guilt-tripping clip-show is just to break *this* Loki and tame him enough that they can use him to catch the *other* Loki #but then even with this i am at odds with much of the fandom? who do see mobius as trying to help Loki from the outset #but like... the TVA are not in the business of redemption arcs! what does mobius plan to do if they do catch the Bad Variant together? #what great reward lies in wait for the now-surplus Loki he brought in to catch the one they were actually having problems with? #because i suspect very much that the longer-term plan for TVA!Loki involved a nice euphemistic word like “pruning” #what's going on what am i missing why am i over here watching a series that seems to be far more fucked-up than other peoples?

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ sober thoughts ] n. hischier

paring: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico appears on his best friend’s doorstep after the Stadium Series win and confessions are made

warning(s) : slightly drunk nico, mentions of alcohol (but no actual alcohol consumption involved)

author’s note : pls ignore any typos bc i thought of this while drunk and wrote it while tipsy so i will go back and edit when i am 100% sober. it’s a v short and cute thing that i wanted to write (even tho i am working on like 7 different requests rn)

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment ‘nico 🏒🤍’ appears on her phone screen, she thinks something is wrong. She’s especially worried because it’s nearly two in the morning. Something could be seriously wrong.

The last time they talked, Nico was getting in an Uber to go to the bar after they won the Stadium Series game against the Flyers. That was a half hour after the end of the game and nearly three hours ago at this point.

A very exhausted and confused (Y/N) quickly answers the phone as soon as she processes what’s going on.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice slurred with sleep. “Do I need to come get you from the bar?”

“I’m outside your apartment building,” he tells her. “Can I please come inside? It’s so cold outside and I just played a game in this weather. Please let me in.”

She rolls over and turns on her bedside lamp before she walks to the window. Outside on the sidewalk stands her best friend and captain of the New Jersey Devils. He smiles up at her and waves. “Oh my God,” she gasps as she puts on a pair of slippers. “Why are you just standing outside my building like that?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you,” he tells her as she grabs her keys and leaves her apartment. “It felt very wrong that I wasn’t celebrating with my best friend after one of the most amazing games and one of the most beautiful moments of my career. If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

Without tripping down any stairs, she says, “It’s okay. I was just worried you were passed out on the side of the road in East Rutherford.” She pushes the main entrance door open. “Yet here you are on my doorstep.”

Nico smiles and stumbles up the steps after he hangs up the phone when he sees her. He trips on the last step. She catches him and he catches himself on the doorway. She can smell the alcohol on his breath because of how close they are to each other, yet her heart races in her chest since they’re so close to each other.

“Are you drunk?” she asks as she backs away from him with a look on her face. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you drove because I might kill you and your team is going to be left without a captain.”

“I’ve had a few drinks,” he admits to her. “I took an Uber because I did have a few drinks. I didn’t drive here. Don’t worry. I still have brain cells.”

Nico walks into the building in a hoodie and jeans instead of the tracksuit he showed up to MetLife in. She’s happy he is in actual clothes because if he showed up in that tracksuit, she might lose it.

“Why did you come here instead of going home?” she questions as they make their way up to her apartment. “I thought that maybe after the game you’d celebrate with your teammates then go home to sleep.”

They walk into the apartment as soon as she unlocks the door. “I told you that I wanted to come celebrate with my best friend,” he replies. She closes the door behind her. “Especially since I couldn’t get you into the stadium to watch the game. I wanted you to be a part of this day.”

She pouts and sits on the couch as Nico turns on one of the lamps. “Your family flew in for the game,” she says to him. “I shouldn’t take priority over them. I get to see you play all the time. They don’t.”

He sits next to her. Not too close but close enough where she can feel the heat coming off his body. If he were to move his knee, it would bump into hers.

“You’re my family too,” Nico softly says. “I wanted you to be there.”

“I’m your friend, Nico,” she sighs. “I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. I didn’t need to be there.”

It feels like she is trying to convince herself too because sometimes the line blurs. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she is to him. She has to remind herself that they aren’t together, and probably will never be together.

A moment of silence falls over them. She looks at her hands on her lap while she plays with her thumbs. Nico’s big brown eyes never leave her while she avoids looking at him.

Nico sighs and practically whispers, “I wished you were there as my girlfriend.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks at him. “You what?”

“I wished you were at the game as my girlfriend,” Nico repeats. “The entire time I wished that you were at the family skate and sitting in the suite with everyone else’s families. I wished you had one of those cute jackets that the wives and girlfriends had with my number on it.”

She stares at him until he’s done talking. Then she starts to shake her head. “You’re just saying that because you have been drinking,” she replies. “You don’t actually mean that.”

Never once has Nico shown that he wanted to be in any kind of romantic relationship with her. He’s never given her any kind of hint or sign that he wanted to be more than just friends with her.

They’ve known each other since Nico moved to the US in 2017 to play in the NHL and never once did it seem like he wanted something more.

There is no way he means that.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he says.

“Then tell me when you’re sober,” she retorts. “Tell me in the morning if you actually mean it.”

Nico frowns and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Schätzli, you have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that,” he tells her. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I wake up before I tell you again.”

Almost as if on cue, he yawns. “Go to sleep, Nico,” she says to him. “Tell me whatever you want in the morning. You know where the guest room is but do you need my help in getting there?”

He shakes his head and sinks down against the back of the couch. “I’ll get there eventually,” he replies. “You can go back to sleep.”

With a nod, she stands up. Nico’s eyes are half open so she takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up onto the cushions. She grabs a blanket to throw over him as he lets out soft snores. The alcohol has finally caught up to him and knocked him out.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you wanted me to be your girlfriend,” she whispers to a sleeping Nico. “All it took you was having a few drinks and winning a big game before you told me how you felt.”

She presses a soft kiss to his temple before she retreats down the hallway to her bedroom just in case he wasn’t actually asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The smell of coffee is the thing that wakes her up in the morning. Not the sunlight or an alarm. Coffee. It takes a second before she remembers that Nico stayed over.

She remembers Nico telling her that he wishes she was at the Stadium Series game as his girlfriend. She has no idea if he remembers that he said that to her.

It’s time to find out.

Slowly, she makes her way out to the kitchen. She finds Nico standing at the coffee machine with his back to the hallway. She yawns and walks into the kitchen area.

“Morning,” she softly says so she doesn’t scare him. He turns his head and looks at her. “You making coffee?”

Nico nods and pours them both a cup. He puts cream in her cup and hands it to her. “I figured we could both use a cup,” he tells her. “Me to get rid of this hangover and you because I woke you up at two in the morning.”

She blows on her coffee before taking a sip. “How much of last night do you remember?” she curiously asks as she leans against the counter beside him.

The moment of silence that follows worries her. He probably doesn’t remember what he said, and she isnt going to remind him if he doesn’t remember.

He takes a sip of his own coffee before he asks, “Are you asking me if I remember telling you that I wish you were my girlfriend? Yes, if that’s the case. I told you that I meant it.”

“And you’re sober?”

“Very,” Nico replies. “And very hungover.”

It surprises her to the point where she almost drops her cup of coffee. Her eyes widen and Nico smiles. “Nico, I could kill you and kiss you at the same time because why did it take you playing in one of the biggest games in your career before you-”

Nico takes the cup of coffee out of her hand while she’s talking then cuts her off by bringing his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise then melts against him as he presses her against the counter. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her fingers in his hair so he can’t break the kiss.

Never in her life did she think that she would be in her kitchen kissing her best friend of nearly seven years. The thought only occurred in dreams and occasionally during games when she found him attractive, which is really all the time.

This is something she has wanted for two years. Since the moment she realized that she was in love with Nico.

He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. He stands between her knees and rests his hands on her thighs.

It becomes too much for her and she has to pull back for a second to breathe. Her eyes meet his and finds worry in them. “I just- I don’t think you understand how long I have waited for this,” she breathes out. “Wanted this. Wanted you. I just need a second.”

Nico smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears before he cups her jaw. “I’m such an idiot for waiting so long before I told you,” he replies. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Schätzli.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

“We’re both idiots,” she tells him. “I’m glad you meant it though. I thought you were going to get my hopes up.”

He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I would never lie to you about loving you.”

“Well I love you too,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Nico laughs and envelopes her in a hug. She smiles and happily accepts the hug.

“I told you that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“I believe you now.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @ithinkimokeei @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fluff

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Third Place Poll

Propaganda...

Colonel Brandon (1995):

Alan Rickman has the sexiest voice. Just listen to him reading poetry to Marianne at the end to witness how hot he is.

Alan Rickman simply embodies the truth of Col. Brandon in a way that no one else every could. It's the perfect merging of actor and role. He brings the perfect combination of honor, decency, sensitivity and passion. He is the ultimate mensch.

Brandon propaganda in which even the film's director agrees that Brandon is sexy.

More Brandon propaganda! This photo could only be published in black and white because it would have been too powerful in color (the original color version is currently being used to provide electricity for a medium sized town in Devon. It's THAT powerful).

The brim of the hat falling over his eye. The casual lean. The hunting rifle slung across his leg. The puppy bestie. The fact you know he could row that boat while you watch and wish you were the boat.

From Emma Thompson's diaries which she kept while they were shooting Sense & Sensibility. Emma Thompson said vote Colonel Brandon.

The man has just heard her sing for a minute and he’s positively awestruck!

also adding his adorable adorable smile just bc i can.

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

64.media.tumblr.com

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

GIF by elinordash

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #third place poll #colonel brandon #mr knightley #emma 2009 #sense and sensibility 1995 #Alan rickman #jonny lee miller

[neochan]

THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR – TEASER

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part three of a series! read part one & two for context! cannot be read as a standalone!

PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS | na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.

WC | 1.1k for the teaser | 20-25k est. for fic

A.N | this is just a teaser for you guys to get hype!! current wc for the entire project is 14.6k....will be posting the finished fic on feb 1st <3

The echo of your footsteps resonates through the quiet library as you navigate your way to the geology section. The fluorescent lights above flicker intermittently, casting occasional shadows that dance along the bookshelves. You can't help but wonder why Haechan chose such a weird ass place to meet.

Decorative rocks are showcased throughout this area of the library, and in the back of your mind you wonder who in their right mind would study geology. Rocks?

“Took you long enough.” Haechan teases, emerging from the shadows between two bookshelves. You squint at him, your eyes still adjusting to the unexpected appearance.

"Why do you have to be so extra?" you quip, recovering from the surprise. It's the second time today he's managed to catch you off guard.

"Extra is my middle name, darling," he grins, leaning casually against the shelves. You secretly wish they would give in and collapse just for the sake of a good laugh.

"Cut the dramatics, Haechan. Why am I here?" you demand, crossing your arms.

"I want to know what you’re doing with Jaemin," he deadpans, peering up through his long lashes. "Because for the past thirty minutes or so, you've been practically drooling over him." He checks his wrist adorned with a silver watch you gifted him last Christmas, "And I've been keeping track, by the way. Don't bother denying it; I've got eyes everywhere."

You roll your eyes, annoyance creeping in. "That's bordering on stalker behavior, you know."

He casually shrugs, unfazed. "Answer the question."

"I'm studying with Jaemin. What else would I be doing?" you retort, finding the situation utterly ridiculous.

"Sure, you're not one of his study buddies?" Haechan drawls, dragging out the second-to-last word and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again, realizing you've walked right into his stupid trap.

You glare pointedly. “Just because you caught me looking at another man that isn’t you doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”

“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about fucking him.” Haechan replies with a sly grin.

“You implied it!” You huff, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured finger.

He clutches the spot and winces at pain. “Damn your nails are sharp.”

“Why am I really up here.” You were becoming impatient. Perhaps you should have known that Haechan would waste your time. There was nothing of importance for you between these stupid, dusty, rock filled shelved.

A part of you did know it, though. And that part was practically begging Haechan to shove you against the shelves and start fucking your brains out.

You squash that part down. Deep down.

Haechan sighs and takes a tentative step backwards, “Honestly, I was bored and just wanted to mess with you.” You open your mouth to chastise him, but he cuts you off before you can, “But now that we’re on the topic of fucking Jaemin –”

“Don’t think we’re on the same topic here.” You interject.

He keeps going without missing a beat, “I just thought you should know about his....habits” His face beams in pride, as if this super-secret tidbit of information could solve world hunger.

"His habits?"

Haechan takes a step towards you, "Yeah...his dirty, filthy habits."

"What are you getting at Haechan?"

The boy in front of you eyes you up and down before speaking slowly, "You're telling me you don't know?"

You narrow your eyes at Haechan, feeling a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Know what exactly? Stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."

Haechan smirks, relishing the moment. "I just thought you should know that he fucks girls here after hours."

“In the geology section?” You question, skepticism etching your features.

“In the library dumbass.” Haechan retorts, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes lock onto yours, daring you to challenge him.

“Yeah right.”

He stomps his foot in a childlike manner. “I’m serious.”

Your disbelief lingers. "I don't believe you. It's literally patrolled by security after hours," you assert, your arms crossing defensively over your chest.

Haechan rolls his eyes, seemingly accustomed to your skepticism. "Y/n, me and Jeno used to think Jaemin was rocking your shit back when he started tutoring you."

A wry smile creeps onto your face. "How lovely."

“I mean, now we know you just need help with stats –”

“It’s a hard subject.” You defend yourself.

Sure, you’d never been good at math like others, but statistics was a hard class. And your professor made it even more boring with her monotoned voice.

“I know, cheated my way through an A.” Haechan admits, flashing a beaming smile. “Anyways, he has an entire roster of girls he brings to the library after hours. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve seen him actually tutor.” The soft glow of the library lights casts a warm hue on the leather-bound volumes that surround you and you notice it illuminates the curve of Haechan’s jaw too.

“Haechan, I swear if this is a prank or a set up.”

He gives another stomp to the worn-out carpet, "Why would I be lying about this?" he insists, his expression genuinely serious. "You know what, meet me here Friday night at nine thirty."

“The library closes at eight.”

“Back entrance is always open.” He winks at you, and you playfully swat his arm. “Gonna prove that I’m not lying.”

“Whatever.”

You find yourself baffled by Haechan's sudden revelation about Jaemin's supposed "dirty habits." There's a lingering question in your mind – why is Haechan even sharing this information with you in the first place? As the absurdity of the situation sinks in, you can't help but wonder what prompted him to bring you to this secluded spot just to share peculiar details about Jaemin's life.

Is he threatened by your sudden interest - if he really was catching on to the fact that you were after Jaemin.

A few beats pass before he’s nudging your shoulder. “So?” He jostles your arm with his own until you swat at him again, “You’ll meet me here?”

“Sure, Haechan.” In truth, you had nothing better to do. And maybe you could use this to your advantage. The next part of this stupid challenge was to fuck Jaemin anyways, and what better way than to use his rendezvous spot to do so.

If Haechan was telling the truth.

“We should make out.”

You slide your eyes to his and cock your head, “In your dreams Hyuckie.”

note. let me know your thoughts!!!! i really need feedback in my inbox <3 also, if you want to be on the taglist, comment on this post (if you're in the taglist for the rest of the series, no need to comment)

#jaemin smut #nct jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream series

[babybluebex]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: series masterlist | after you receive a series of anonymous love letters, eddie has a confession to make that might make or break your whole friendship. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: eddie munson (stranger things, 2022) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut (minors dni, fingering f!receiving, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink), a little possessiveness if you squint, cute fluffy eddie head over heels for you, everyone in this is 18+ and if you aren't, you shouldn't be reading it!𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i wrote this in (mostly) one sitting because the idea came to me and i couldn’t let it go, and it's absurdly long so.... here’s some sweet eddie smut!

You opened your locker, and watched as it fell out, just like every day. Every day for the past month, someone had been sneaking notes through the vent of your locker door, and you had no idea who was doing it. You thought it would be easy to figure out, the messy, nearly-illegible, handwriting indicative of a boy, but not even asking the Hellfire Club for opinions helped bring an answer. All that had succeeded in was Dustin poking fun at you for getting anonymous love letters, and you had sighed with exhaustion and snatched the first note back. 

You picked up the newest note from next to your shoe, unfolding it to read the newest sentiment. The handwriting was a little messier than usual, maybe rushed or something, and it read the same as every other note: that you were beautiful and smart, that any man who calls himself your boyfriend is lucky, then goes on to ask “Do you still not know who I am? I thought it was obvious, princess. Oh well. Maybe one day you’ll figure it out, and then I can be yours.” Not a single note was signed with a name or anything identifiable, and it was driving you crazy trying to figure it out. 

Before you could properly read the new note, it was being pulled out of your hand, and you whipped your head around to see Eddie, smiling like a goofball and examining the note. “Damn,” he chuckled. “Whoever this is has got it bad for you.” 

“Eddie,” you whined. “Gimme that back, it’s private.”

“What is it?” Eddie asked, examining the note. “Wait… Is this that letter you showed us, like, forever ago?”

“No,” you told him. “It’s like… I’ve been getting them every day since then.”

“Every day?” Eddie repeated, pulling a confused face, a grimace with knitted eyebrows.. “I thought it was just the one?”

“C’mon, seriously, give it back,” you groaned, but Eddie used his height against you, lifting the note above his head and craning his head to read it.

“A month of this?” Eddie asked. “‘I think about you every day, imagining what it would be like to be your man’— does this kinda shit work on you?”

“Eddie, c’mon,” you said, and you grabbed at the note. Eddie was quicker than you, though, turning to defend himself and the love letter. 

“Who is it?” He asked. “Do you know?” 

You sighed, seeing no way out of this. Eddie had been at the helm of teasing when you had first brought the issue to the Hellfire Club, nothing really harmful but it still made your stomach curdle. He seemed more invested in the mystery than even you were, even if he didn’t remember it until now.

“I have no idea,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but nobody recognizes the handwriting. Anyway, who would like me this much to write weird anonymous love letters?”

Eddie handed the crinkled note back to you, and you almost missed the way his face fell. “You think they’re weird?” he asked, and you shrugged as you folded the letter back up. 

“It’s certainly not normal,” you said. “Why can’t this guy just tell me that he likes me? He can drop this pining bullshit he’s doing.” 

“Maybe he’s scared to tell you,” Eddie offered. He leaned up against the locker next to you, his fluffy curls flattening against the metal, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe he’s so afraid you’ll say no that he can’t even bear to tell you in person.” 

“Well, I can’t say yes if I don’t know who he is,” you sighed. 

“That’s true,” Eddie offered. “But seriously, does that mushy shit work on you?” 

You floundered for an answer, not wanting to give Eddie the satisfaction of being right, but your hesitation was answer enough. 

“It does!” Eddie laughed. “Oh, that’s amazing, you’re a little romantic.”

“I mean, maybe!” you said with a heavy shrug. “It’s just nice to have someone be, like, head over heels for me, y’know? Knowing that I’m appreciated like this…” 

Eddie sighed heavily through his nose, and he said, “Give me that note, I’ll read it to you.”

“Fuck off,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“No, really,” Eddie said. His chocolatey eyes widened with earnestness, and he added, “If you want someone to appreciate you, I’ll do it.” 

“I already know you appreciate me,” you said. “You’re like my brother, Ed. Anyway, you don’t wanna appreciate me like this.”

“Why not?” Eddie asked, and he took the note from your hand once more. “Is it dirty? Is he sending you dirty letters?” 

“Not always,” you told him. “I haven’t properly read this one yet; someone took it from me before I could.” 

Eddie opened the note and cleared his throat, and he read it off to you. “‘Princess’,” he snickered. “Strong start. He calls you princess?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you groaned and tried to snatch the note away, but Eddie held you at arm’s length, keeping you away. 

“‘Princess, I thought about you all day’,” Eddie read. “‘It doesn’t help that you look so cute today. You should wear that lipstick more often, it makes your eyes look nice. Sometimes I think about what kissing your perfect lips would be like, having your lipstick stain my mouth. It’s enough to drive a man crazy. Is that something you would like? Do you like to be kissed, princess? When we meet, that’s the very first thing I’ll do, is kiss you. I think about you everyday, imagining what it would be like to be your man.’” Eddie paused to smile at the line that he had picked out before, and he continued. “I’d like you to be my girl, in any way I can have you. I love you.’”

“It does not say that,” you huffed. “He did not tell me he loves me.” 

“Okay, you’re right, that’s not written,” Eddie admitted, and you rolled your eyes. “But it might as well be! This guy's in love with you! That’s some sappy shit, babe, he’s got it bad.”

Before you could retort, the bell sounded, and you groaned as you finally retrieved the note from Eddie’s hand. “I’ll see you this afternoon,” you told him, shoving the note in your pocket. “Forget you ever read that.”

“Forgotten,” Eddie said with a nod. “I’ll see you at Hellfire, princess.” 

“Don’t call me that!” you shouted after him as he left down the hallway, and you sighed and brushed your fingers against your pocket. The note was sweet, but the problem came with Eddie. Now that he had narrated the letter, you couldn’t help but imagine only his voice as you read it back. The image of Eddie slaving over writing the perfect love note stuck in your head, and you physically shook your head to get rid of the thought. 

It wasn’t Eddie. There was no way it could be. You knew what Eddie’s handwriting looked like and it wasn’t what was on the sheet of paper. Anyway, you knew Eddie well, and he wasn’t shy like that. If he liked you enough to send love letters, he would just tell you as much. Deep in your chest, you sorta hoped it was Eddie writing you the letters. Even if it wasn’t sincere and was a prank (which was uncharacteristic for Eddie, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility), the idea that Eddie even noticed your lipstick or had the inkling of a desire to kiss you made your stomach turn flips. It was about time to face the music: you liked him.

You closed your locker with a sigh, and you made your way to class, the letter burning a hole in your pocket. 

Hellfire was successful that afternoon. Not exactly successful for the campaign— by all accounts, half of your group dying from a single hit by Vecna and the last member standing failing to kill him was very unsuccessful— but you always liked hanging out with the guys from Hellfire and always considered it a win. As the only girl, it was sometimes difficult to only hang out with guys, but everyone, even the freshmen, treated you nicely. Dustin looked at you like a sister, and you frequently drove him home after meetings.

“Can we get food on the way home?” Dustin asked as he shoved his binder into his backpack, and you shrugged. 

“Why not?” you asked. “What’re you thinking?” 

“I’m not sure,” Dustin replied. “You can choose.”

“How kind,” you smiled. “How about—”

“Hey, princess,” Eddie began from his place on his Dungeon Master throne. You turned to him, and he beckoned you over with a swipe of his fingers: “I wanna talk to you.” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, and you shouldered your backpack as you turned back to Dustin. “Go to the car,” you told him and tossed him your car keys. “Get the heat going, alright?” 

Dustin did as you told him, and you tilted your head curiously at Eddie. He had his sleeves rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his lower arms, his hair all frizzy but still looking nice, and he had his plump pink lips pursed. “What’s up?” you asked. 

“I was thinking about your little letter situation,” Eddie began. “The anonymous author and all.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Eddie, really, leave it alone, it’s truly not that big a deal.”

“Yeah, but if some creep is trying to put the moves on you, the least he can do is do it in person,” Eddie sighed. “You deserve better than just some creepy love letters shoved in your locker.” 

“Do I?” you laughed, and Eddie’s dark eyes flashed. 

“Of course you do,” Eddie said. “You’re the best girl at Hawkins.”

“Chrissy Cunningham might disagree,” you mumbled under your breath, and Eddie sighed as he rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I think you’re the best girl at Hawkins, and that’s what matters,” he said. “Listen to me: I really care about you, and I hate that these letters are making you so… Uncomfortable.”

“They’re not making me uncomfortable,” you said. “I like them. I’m just annoyed that I don’t know who it is.” 

Eddie slowly stood from his throne, and he moved towards you carefully, like he was afraid that he was going to startle you. “You are beautiful,” he told you. “And you’re funny. And that guy is right, you’re enough to drive a man crazy. And you have, princess, you’ve made me completely mad.” 

You huffed out a wary laugh. “Eddie, what the fuck?” you chuckled, but you were stunned silent when he reached forward and took your hand. 

Eddie took a deep breath, his chest heaving with it, and he said, “I wrote those letters. All of them. Every single one.”

Your heart dropped, and you stepped away from Eddie. “No you didn’t,” you said. “If you liked me, you would’ve just told me.”

“And I wanted to,” Eddie said. “But I was shy and scared. I was terrified that you would reject me, so I… I found a way you couldn’t reject me.” 

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt warm under Eddie’s gaze. “Eddie,” you uttered. “Y-You didn’t really… You’re not…” 

“I can prove it,” Eddie said quickly. He went back to his throne and grabbed his metal lunchbox from the floor, and he opened it up to pull out several scraps of notebook paper, the same ones that your letters came on. You recognized it as the same, because the blue lines were a little smudged— a defect from the notebook itself. “Look, here was me drafting today’s letter during free period, I rewrote it so many times before I got the version I gave you.” 

“B-But,” you stammered. “Your handwriting…”

“I wrote them with my left hand,” Eddie told you. “I knew you’d recognize my handwriting.”

You felt suffocated as you sorted through the scraps of paper from Eddie’s lunchbox, and you grabbed them and held them in a tight fist. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, tears threatening your eyes. Under any other circumstance, you would have thought it was funny, but your emotions twisted deep in your gut. You had to tell him that the feeling was mutual. “Ed, I wouldn’t have—”

“You wouldn’t have made fun of me?” Eddie supplied, tightening his arms over his chest. “The only girl I hang out with and I fall head over heels for you, how cliche is that? I-I would want you to make fun of me.”  

“No, Eddie, stop,” you said. “Stop putting words in my mouth. I wouldn’t have rejected you.” 

That stopped Eddie dead in his tracks. His fingers played with the ends of his hair, pressing them to his lips, and he finally mumbled out, “Really?” 

“Of course not, Ed,” you told him. Your chest burned with the confession, and you stepped closer to him, taking his hand back. “I really like you. Y-You’re so… Right. You’re just right for me.”

Eddie seemed shocked, taken aback, but his hand stayed in yours tightly. “Really?” he asked. “But I’m… Me.”

“And that’s why I like you,” you said. “You’re so weird and you’re so sweet and… And I’m glad it’s you. I wanted it to be you.” 

Eddie smiled for the first time, and he stepped closer to you until you could nearly hear his heartbeat. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. “I told you that’s the first thing I’d do, is kiss you.”

“Please,” you whispered, and Eddie didn’t waste any time. His hand went to the back of your neck and tugged you into his body, and he kissed you, pressing his lips sweetly to yours. Your hands floated up, and you touched your palms to his chest as you kissed him back. 

You loved the way Eddie kissed you, passionate but not hungry, sweet but not needy, his fingers touching your hair. His mouth felt so nice against yours, and you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie tilted his head and his hands went down to your waist, tugging you fully against his body as his tongue carefully snaked into your mouth. 

You finally broke the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile up at him, and he gave you a wide smile. “Can you keep leaving me those little notes?” you asked. “I really like them. But maybe you can sign them with your name now.” 

“Of course,” Eddie said, and he kissed you once more. “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I do,” you told him, and you placed a quick kiss on his mouth. “Um, maybe you could come by my house tonight. We could… I don’t know, hang out.” 

Eddie smiled. “Sure thing, princess. Give me one more kiss, then you gotta go. Don’t wanna leave Henderson waiting too long.”

You smiled and draped your arms over Eddie’s shoulders, and you kissed him one last time, admiring the taste of him as his tongue claimed your mouth again. He tasted like cigarettes and like the distinctive tang of skin, but it was wonderful no matter what. “Hey,” Eddie whispered when the kiss broke, and his big hand lightly captured your cheek. “You wanna be my girlfriend?” 

“Of course,” you told him. “Oh, Eddie, I’d love to.” 

“Good,” Eddie said softly, his cheeks turning red. “Good, I’m glad. Umm… I’ll see you later tonight.” 

You didn’t leave Dustin waiting for much longer, even though you could have stayed in the drama club room and kissed Eddie for hours. True to your word, you stopped at McDonalds on your way to Dustin’s house, and you sat in the car and ate with him. “What did Eddie wanna talk to you about?” Dustin asked, munching on a fry. “He seemed really intense.” 

You shrugged. “Nothing,” you said. “Just asking about an assignment for a class.”

“Eddie…” Dustin began. “Asked you… about homework?” 

“Why do you doubt me?” you asked, shoving him playfully. “What else would we be talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Dustin started, obviously having made a list. “D&D, maybe? C’mon, what were you guys really talking about? We both know that Eddie would never ask about homework.”

“Why do you wanna know so badly?” you asked. “Why isn’t it enough to just… Not know? Or care?”

“You know me, I have to care,” Dustin told you. “Spill it. What’s up?”

You sighed, looking down at the pack of chicken nuggets in your lap, and you chewed your lip. You knew that Dustin could be trusted with the truth and not to tell anyone else, and something in your chest made you giddy when you considered saying it out loud for the first time. But, did Eddie want Dustin to know? “I’ve been…” you started. “Getting some letters. Like, little love notes in my locker. Like the one I showed you, only way more than just one. Just stuff about how I’m pretty and everything, whatever, right? Eddie was with me when I got the one today, and he was just asking me about the note. Nothing major at all.” 

“Why does Eddie care about love notes?” Dustin asked. “Who are they from? Is he jealous?”

“They’re anonymous, just like the first one,” you told him. “I don’t know who’s writing them or why… Well, why, obviously they like me, but—”

“Can I see one?” Dustin asked. 

“Fuck off!” you huffed with a smile. “No, you cannot, that’s personal and private.”

“But Eddie read one.”

“Because he grabbed it from my hand,” you told him. “Eddie doesn’t care about personal and private, you know that.”

“So why did he ask to talk to you privately, if he doesn’t care about private?” Dustin asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. Annoyance was starting to bubble in your stomach, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re asking too many questions, you’re starting to act like you’re my little brother. See if I ever bring you to McDonalds after school again.” 

Dustin didn’t seem satisfied with the way you suddenly ended the conversation, but he didn’t pry any further. The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, save for Dustin thanking you when you got him home, and he added, “If you find out who’s sending those notes, let me know, okay? I’m invested in the mystery now.” 

“Sure thing, Dusty,” you told him. “I’ll see you later.” 

The rest of the evening was slow as you waited. You had no idea when Eddie would show up or in what fashion, and you tried to distract yourself until you could see him. You finished your homework, you watched television with your parents, you did everything you could think of, and no Eddie. You knew he wasn’t the type to show up at your front door, holding flowers or something cheesy like that, but you didn’t know exactly what to expect. 

Your answer came after you went to bed, around midnight. You had given up hope of Eddie actually showing up, and your heart raced in your chest. Did he mean it? Did he mean any of it? Or was he just playing a prank, kissing you and fucking with you for fun? It didn’t seem like the type of guy that Eddie was, but your anxiety didn’t let you think any differently. 

You had already settled in bed, trying not to cry because of the whole ordeal, but a light tinkling on your window made you look up from your pillow. It wasn’t raining, you knew that much, and you slowly got out of bed and went to your window. The streetlight cast a shadow through your curtains, and your heart soared when you recognized Eddie’s frizzy curls in silhouette. 

Quickly, you threw back your curtains and were met with Eddie’s smiling face, and you wrenched open the window to get him inside. “My parents are asleep,” you told him softly. “But they’re upstairs.” 

“Good to know,” Eddie said, his smile still a mile wide, and he climbed through your window and wrenched it back closed. Finally, with a sigh, he turned to you, and he, sighing, said, “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I had some shit I had to deal with.” 

“It’s fine,” you told him. “You’re here now, that’s what matters.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Eddie said, and he stepped closer, into your space. “Can I please kiss you?” 

“Oh, is that what you wanna do?” you asked with a cheeky smile, and Eddie rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Well, yeah,” he said. He took your hand and pulled you into his body, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, making you giggle. “I didn’t sneak in your window at midnight just to shoot the shit, you know? B-But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know,” you assured him. “What if, umm… I-I want to do stuff with you, y’know? I just… I just want you to know…” 

“Know what, princess?” Eddie asked softly. He led you over to the bed and he sat on the edge, and you were quick to straddle his waist and lay a kiss on his mouth. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, his tongue snaking into your mouth once more, and his hands went comfortably to your waist, his fingers digging under the waistband of your pajama pants to feel your skin. His hand was still cold from the night outside, and you shivered as his hand ghosted around to the front of your pants. “What do you wanna tell me?” 

“I-I mean, you probably figured this out,” you stammered. “I haven’t ever had a boyfriend and guys at school don’t particularly like me, but, umm…” 

“Baby,” Eddie started, his hands readjusting to sit lightly on your ass. “Are you a virgin?” 

You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” you said, and Eddie shook his head quickly, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he told you. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not upset, baby, I promise.” 

“Do you still wanna…” you started, and Eddie started nodding before you could even finish your sentence. 

“Yes, I do,” he told you. “Very much so.” His hands remained gentle on your ass as he leaned forward and buried his face in your neck, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he kissed over a sensitive spot. “Oh, right there?” he asked as you playfully batted at his head, but then he placed his mouth over the spot and sucked hard, definitely hard enough to leave a mark. 

A gasp left your mouth at the intense feeling that washed through you, and your hands clutched hard at the shoulders of Eddie’s jackets. “Eddie,” you uttered, unable to think of anything more profound to say as you felt heat pooling between your legs. “F-Fuck, Eddie.” 

“I know, princess,” Eddie said softly. “Does that feel good? You like it?”

“Love it,” you told him, and you giggled again when he kissed the spot. 

“Oh, I knew you were sensitive,” Eddie chuckled. “Fuck, I love that. Y’know, I meant it when I wrote that you were beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

“Shut up,” you said, but Eddie silenced your protests by pressing his teeth into your sweet spot, drawing another gasp from your throat. 

“I won’t,” Eddie mumbled against your neck. “You’re gorgeous, princess. I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Have you ever…” you started, unsure how exactly to phrase the question. It burned at your chest though, and you knew that you had to expel it somehow. “Umm… I don’t know… Jerked off? To me?”

Eddie laughed, then, seeing that you were serious, cleared his throat. “I mean,” he began. “I have, yeah. Is that weird?” 

Your heart thumped inside your chest, and you swallowed thickly. You liked the answer and the thought of it, and you shook your head at him. “I don’t think it’s weird,” you told him. “I just… Wanted to know, I guess.” 

“Now you know, baby,” Eddie said. “Have you ever masturbated to me?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t really know how to do it,” you admitted, feeling foolish for your lack of knowledge. 

Eddie’s eyes softened as he cooed at you. “Aw, my sweet girl,” he whispered softly. “I can show you how.” 

“You know how?” you asked, and Eddie shrugged. 

“I know a little bit more than you do,” Eddie told you, and he tapped your temple with a ringed finger. “Silly thing. Get on your back, princess.”

You scrambled off of Eddie’s lap as your pussy did yummy little flips, and you settled yourself against your pillows as Eddie followed. He pressed his hips between your legs, settling himself right against you, and you squirmed a little at the feel of his cool belt buckle touching the inside of your thigh. Eddie swiped a quick kiss on your lips, and his fingers expertly twisted in your pajama shorts and tugged them down your legs slowly. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispered under his breath, his eyes soaking up the sight of you. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, pressing your hands to your face, and Eddie wrapped his long fingers around your wrists and tugged them away, pressing your wrists into the bed beside your head. 

“No, princess, I won’t,” Eddie told you. “I’ve wanted you for months, I only started the letters after Dustin told me I should—”

“Dustin?” you exclaimed. “This was his idea? He was begging me to tell him this afternoon!” 

“No, no, it was my idea,” Eddie said quickly. “He just encouraged me. But he knew; he always knew.”

“That little shit!” you laughed. “He was doing a good job of acting innocent.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Eddie chuckled, his brown eyes flashing mischievously, and he pressed his hand to your pussy, the only thing separating you being the thin fabric of your panties. “Only you aren’t acting.” 

“Eddie, baby,” you whimpered, and Eddie put a quick, silencing kiss on your lips. 

“I know, princess,” he said, pouting. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for you to answer; he slipped one of his fingers inside your panties and felt down your leaking slit until his fingertip nudged your hole. Your hips bucked down into your mattress with shock, and Eddie kissed you again. 

“Pay attention,” Eddie told you. “I’m gonna teach you how to do this, okay?” You nodded quickly, and Eddie’s finger glided back up to the top of your cunt. With two fingers, he carefully spread your lips, and his middle finger expertly pressed against a sensitive spot of your flesh. You gasped at the shock of pleasure it sent into your legs, and Eddie grinned. “That’s your clit, baby, okay? Touch that, and be nice with it. Show me what a fast learner you are.” 

“How do I touch it?” you asked, and Eddie lightly circled the pad of his finger along your clit.

“Play with it,” he told you. “Circle it around, like this. Or this…” His finger started differently then, a motion almost like a light flicking towards your belly. That made your hips jut down again, and Eddie chuckled deep in his chest. “Just like that. Show me, baby, touch your clit for me.” 

Your hand shook as you lowered it down your body, and Eddie flopped himself beside you, undoing his belt as he watched you. Your finger definitely felt clumsier than Eddie’s did, a little softer than his too, but your reacted the same way as you copied the flicking motion he had done; you squirmed under your own touch, playing with your clit until you felt it throb with every pass of blood through your veins. 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, his eyes hungrily watching you. “Just like that, princess, I knew you were a fast learner. Keep doing that…” He trailed off, and he was quick to press his mouth to your neck, finding your sensitive little sweet spot again. The throbbing became too much to ignore as he kissed and sucked at your neck, and you finally let out a little whimper. 

“Oh, good,” Eddie whispered in your ear. “Just what I like to hear. So, you can masturbate like that, princess, or…” he paused and lightly let his fingers touch you again, this time circling your leaking hole. Then slowly, he pressed his first finger inside you, past your lips and into your pussy. You whimpered at the odd intrusion, loving every second of it, and Eddie’s kisses touched your neck again. “You can add your fingers. Fuck, you’re tight, aren’t you?” 

Shocks rocked your belly as Eddie’s finger went deeper inside you, deeper than you thought possible, until his knuckle was resting right against your hole, the bull-shaped ring pressing cooly against you. “See, isn’t that nice?” Eddie said softly. “God, you’re so soft.” 

You couldn’t help but whine his name, just a quiet mumble of “Eddie”, and he kissed your neck softly to silence you. “Rub your clit, princess,” Eddie whispered in your ear. “I can make you feel so good.”

You did as he told you, your fingers clumsily playing with the sensitive nerve again, and Eddie curled his finger inside you, pressing the soft pad of his finger into that spongy nerve inside you. A small gasp issued from your mouth, and Eddie’s kisses on your neck became deeper, adding the tips of his teeth, nipping softly at your skin. With the biting at your neck, the stimulation on your clit, and Eddie touching that spot inside you, the experience was almost overwhelming, and you turned your face away from Eddie to keep him from seeing the tears in your eyes. 

“No, no, princess,” Eddie said, and his free hand lightly touched your cheek, turning you back to him. “Baby, why’re you crying? Are you okay?” 

You sniffled and nodded. “J-Just feels good,” you stammered. “I-I’m okay.”

“Do we need to stop?” Eddie asked, his face etched in concern. 

“No!” you cried. “Don’t stop, Eddie, please don’t stop.” 

Eddie nodded, satisfied with your answer, and your chest warmed at his sentiments. He was worried about you. You loved that he had noticed that something was wrong and immediately asked after you. It was endearing, and only proved to you how much he liked you. Or, as he had said as he read the letter… “Do you love me, Ed?” you whispered. 

“Of course I do, princess,” Eddie told you, kissing your cheek. “I’m crazy for you, you’re my special girl.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I just wanted to know.”

“Do you love me?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him to see his eyes wide and owlish, hopeful for a good answer. 

“Yeah,” you told him. “I love you, Eddie, I really do.” 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Eddie laughed, seeming almost nervous, like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Are you okay if I add another finger? Will that be too much?” 

“Please,” you told him. As good as his finger felt, you wanted more. You needed more, you needed as much as Eddie was willing to give you. “Eddie—”

He added his second finger inside you without much warning, and the stretch made you whimper in pain. It was painful exactly, but it burned, and you writhed under his grip. “I know, baby,” Eddie pouted. “It feels weird, I’m sorry. But it’ll be better soon, it’ll all feel better soon.” 

Slowly, his fingers worked to fuck you, gently sliding in and out of you as his fingertips grazed that spot inside you. All the while, you were still clumsily playing with your clit. It felt good, but you knew that Eddie could make it a hundred times better, and you whispered, “E-Eddie, oh, fuck… Touch me, Eddie, please, please…”

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Eddie asked. “Use your words, princess, where do you want me?” 

“Touch my clit,” you mewled, your back arching in time with him driving his fingers home inside you. You cried out at the pleasure that hit your belly, and you grabbed hard at your bedsheets. “Eddie!” 

“Shh, princess,” Eddie whispered, laughing lightly. “Don’t want your parents hearing you.” His free hand lightly nudged yours away, though, and his skilled fingers started in on your clit, rubbing it better than you ever could. Your pussy throbbed as he started, clenching around his fingers, and Eddie smiled. “Yes, baby, good girl,” he mumbled. “Are you close? Are you gonna cum on my fingers?” 

Your mind felt cooked, not wanting to work or form words coherently, and you could only manage to whisper, “Eddie.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Eddie chuckled. “Come on, baby, just tell me before you cum. You’re such a good girl, I can’t wait to get inside you.” 

The reminder of what was yet to come made your stomach do flips, and you moaned softly as his fingers sped up. With his speed came a new sensation, one that made your thighs and legs shake, and you whimpered out and turned your head to press your mouth to his. Eddie kissed you back instantly, kissing you hard, his tongue snaking into your mouth, and he fucked you on his fingers, the wet sounds of your pussy almost worringly loud. 

A jolt of electricity hit your body, making your toes curl, and you moaned into Eddie’s warm mouth. “Eddie,” you gasped. “You’re gonna make me cum—”

“Do it, baby,” Eddie told you. “Cum, baby, you can do it.”

He only had to fuck you once more, his thumb rubbing your clit harshly and quickly, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle your moan as you gushed all over his fingers. He watched you greedily, drinking up the sight of you as you shook and writhed under his touch, and he carefully pulled his fingers from inside you. Your bedroom was lit only by your bedside lamp, but you could still see your cum glistening on his fingers, and you watched as he licked at his fingers, cleaning himself up. “Good girl,” he whispered, his free hand smoothing down your hair. “You did so well, I’m proud of you. Mmm, and you taste so good too.”

“Will you fuck me?” you asked, and Eddie smiled. 

“Not tonight, princess,” he told you, and your eyebrows furrowed as you whined. “Oh, don’t start with that, baby. It’s your first time, and I want it to be special. I wanna take you on a date and do all that cheesy shit before I really take your virginity. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I love you, Ed.”

“I love you too, princess,” Eddie said. “C’mere, I wanna hold you.” 

You squirmed closer to Eddie, and you pulled your panties back on as his arm snaked around your waist. He smelled good, like cheap cologne, and you turned and buried your face in his chest. His hand soothingly rubbed your back, lightly scratching with his dull fingernails, and you licked your lips as a question came to you. “Does Dustin really know about the letters?” you asked, and Eddie smiled.

“I never let him help write them,” Eddie said. “He doesn’t know what they say. I don’t even think he knew that I did it all the time, I think he only knew of the first one.” 

“He’s such a little shit,” you giggled. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

“Not if I do it first,” Eddie said, and he pressed a kiss to your head. 

“Maybe we can kill Dustin together?” you offered, and Eddie laughed, a genuine thing deep in his chest. 

“Whatever you want, princess,” Eddie told you. “I’d do anything for you.” 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #my writing

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Five - Why

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.8K words

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Carlos Sainz's pregnant wife sat in a room small enough to be considered a cell. It was incredibly dark inside of this cell, with the only source of light flickering overhead.

Y/N sat on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest. It had been three days and nobody had spoken to her. A faceless figure brought her food and water, but never spoke a word to her. She sat in that cell feeling grubby and grim.

Tears stained her cheeks, but she had long since stopped crying, with no tears left.

She was going to die in her. She and her baby were going to die.

On her fourth day in this grim cell, somebody approached. They walked over to Y/N, crouching down so that she could see him. The face she was met with was rugged and scarred, and at least fifty years old. He grinned a grim smile, his mouth missing a couple of teeth.

"Hello, Mrs Sainz," he said, his voice gruff, his accent British. He pressed his face to the bars of her cell and let out a laugh, a terrifying laugh.

She spat in his face. Her spit flew through the space between them, landing in his face.

His laughter halted for just a moment. But it started up just as soon as it had stopped and he wiped the spit away from his eyes. "And I thought you were supposed to be all meek and timid."

"A mothers instinct," Y/N said through a hiss.

His laugh got louder and he stood up straighter. Pulling out a camera he snapped a picture of Y/N as she scowled up at him. She was going to die in here, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked him, her voice dry. "What have I done to deserve this?"

The man got back onto his knees in front of her. "Well, I suppose I can tell you. I will just be killing you anyway." Y/N's heart sank as he leaned against the wall opposite her. "I am owed a hell of a lot of money and you're going to help me get it."

She just stared at him, her mouth agape. "So, you kidnapped a pregnant woman, the pregnant wife of a mafia boss, because you want money?!" She cried. "My husband will find me. And he will kill you."

"Hang on now, pretty little thing." He had no right to call her that. If Carlos didn't kill this man, she certainly would. "You haven't heard the whole story."

A lump formed in her throat.

***

The feeling that settled over Carlos when he touched down in the Norris family private hangar was indescribable. Finally he'd be reunited with his wife, finally he'd be able to bring her home.

Carlos made his way to the Norris house, with Oscar in the passenger seat of the car. "I can't wait for her to see what we've done with the nursery," he said with a beaming smile. Oscar had never quite seen him grin like this. It was infectious, too.

It was maybe 6.30 in the morning when Carlos arrived at the Norris house. Lando wasn't awake yet and there had just been a change of shift of those watching over the house.

Carlos looked up at the window that he knew to be in Y/N's room. His wife, his pretty little wife. Soon she'd be by his side.

He knocked on the door and a very tired Norris pulled open the door. "Oh," he said upon seeing his brother in law, who appeared to be a lot more awake and coherent than he was.

Lando let Carlos into the house. "Do you want some coffee or something?" He asked, shutting the door behind Oscar as he walked in.

Those two greeted each other with a handshake. Carlos knew they were friends, but he didn't quite realise they were that close.

Carlos shook his head. "I'd just like to see my wife, please," he said, standing by the stairs.

Nodding his head, Lando began climbing the stairs. "I'll go and get her," he said, as if telling Carlos was an afterthought. God, he was tired. Unbelievably so.

Maybe ten minutes later Lando was making his way back down the stairs, running this time, his face as white as a sheet. "She's gone," he said quickly, definitely more awake this time.

Carlos was red with fury as he gripped Lando's pyjamas and held him up against the wall. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He roared. "SHE'S GONE AND IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU!"

What the two of them failed to notice was Oscar as he ran around the house, searching for his missing best friend. He searched her favourite spots, but she was nowhere to be seen. He checked through the whole house while Carlos screamed at Lando.

"Hey!" Oscar shouted as he walked back towards the two of them.

Carlos quickly dropped Lando. His hands were still balled up in a fist as he turned towards Oscar. "What?" He barked, his expression furious. There was a time where Oscar would have been terrified of him, but now he understood. He got why Carlos was as seething as he was.

"She's not in the house. What do we do now?"

But it was Lando who told them their grim reality. "We have to wait," he said. I can put my men on it, but there's nothing we can do until we have some sort of clue or something."

As uncomfortable as it was, the boys did just that. They waited.

***

"It was your mother who employed me originally," the man said, still wearing that grim smile. Y/N couldn't look at him, but she couldn't help but listen.

Her mother? Hire him? What would her mother want with a man like him?

But he was going to tell her just that. "There was somebody your mother wanted to get rid of, and it was my job to do just that."

"So, you're a hitman," Y/N said, but the man held his finger to his lips, effectively silencing her.

"Yes, I am a hitman. And your mother took out a hit on somebody. See, she was a part of the Mansell family as a young girl. The L/N's worked for the Mansells for years, but they never amounted to much. So, she wanted a bit of the high life. And she was going to do anything to get it.

"Norris had just had his first child and his power was raising. He was set to be the most powerful head of family in the United Kingdom. This, of course, was before we knew about Hamilton. Norris had a new baby and a wife he loved very much.

"Your mother knew what she needed to do. She needed to get rid of Norris's wife."

Y/N couldn't stop herself from gasping. Her mother wouldn't have somebody killed, would she? She had always been harsh, but she wasn't deadly. Her mother wasn't a killer.

"So, your mother hired me to take care of her little problem. I got rid of the first Mrs Norris, doing so in a way that made it took like an accident. That was my speciality, making things look like an accident. Norris never suspected a thing.

"He grieved tremendously. He was the head of family, he had an infant son and he had just lost his wife. Norris really struggled.

"So, your mother put herself in the right place at the right time. She caught Norris's eye and, three years later, you were born," he said. The smile he still wore made her shiver.

"I needed payment. It was a hell of a lot of money and I had done my part. Your mother owed me. Of course, all of her money was actually her husbands, and he didn't have a lot of it. She paid me in small instalments, but it wasn't enough. I am still owed close to a million.

"And then your mother died. She died and there was nobody to pay me. I watched you closely, you know. I watched you carefully. Where your father and brother tried their best to keep you a secret, I knew everything about you.

"I watched you the day Sainz and his boy had dinner with you. I followed you to Spain and watched your wedding. I watched through your window as Sainz's boy had his way with you on your first night of being married."

Tears sprang to her eyes. It wasn't something she wanted to be reminded of. That wasn't her Carlos, wasn't the man she was in love with.

"Your husband is a very wealthy man," said the man. "I realised that, through you, I could get the money I was owed. So, I hatched a plan. I got a team together and we raided every head of family, trying to get the information we need and opportunities for any more money.

"When we raided your husbands house, we were planning to take you. But we were stopped by fucking Sainz. He got in the way and gave you two time to escape. But we got what we needed and we got out. We knew we'd get to you another time.

"It was hard to locate your safehouse. But we followed that Australian boy and he led us right to you. But then your husband got you away. We spent two weeks looking for you, were about to give up hope, when Verstappen's son called your brother. Suddenly we knew where you were."

When Y/N let out a sob, the man stood up straighter and pulled out his camera. He pointed it right at his face and began talking. "Hello, Sainz. I believe I have something that belongs to you."

***

Carlos spent four days at the Norris house. But, to him, it might as well been four months.

On the fourth day, his phone buzzed.

Well, it had been buzzing on and off with the same thing since he'd first discovered Y/N was missing. Every notification he got was somebody saying that they hadn't found her. There had been a couple of times when he'd thrown his phone, he'd always managed to throw it at the sofa opposite.

This time, though, was different. This time the notification was from somebody he didn't know.

Carlos opened it, opened the video that had been sent to him.

It was hard to make out what he was seeing at first, the video too dark, the person not in focus. But then the person holding the camera adjusted it and the view of the person became clearer.

Carlos's eyes went wide.

"Hello, Sainz. I believe I have something that belongs to you."

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #cs55 #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #mafia!f1 #mafia!au

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Dreams

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, angst

A/N: just a little angsty type short blurb I had in my head.

--‐------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Since when did Simon Riley get so romantic?” You jeered, booping him on the nose playfully. “I won’t complain, though, this is nice.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Simon whispered to you, as he stroked your hair lightly. “You are my everything, Y/n.”

The two of you were lying in bed together, wrapped up in each other's arms. Neither of you had moved for hours.

“I’ve always been this romantic, don’t know what you’re on about.” 

You chuckled as you shoved your face into Simon's chest, inhaling his scent. “ I love you.”

“I love you too, kid. Always.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

You sighed deeply into the kiss, and moved so you were sitting on top of him, straddling his waist. Pulling away, you smirked down at him with a devious look in your eyes.

“What are you up to?” He asked, matching your smirk.

*RING*

“Nothin.”

"Nah, I know that look."

"Don't know what you're talking about, just showing my man how much I appreciate him is all." You bit back a giggle, an elated smile forming on your face.

Simon was jolted awake by his phone going off. He sat up in his bed and sighed. That’s right, that was all just a dream. You’ve been dead for over a year. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and saw Price’s caller ID flashing on the screen.

“Simon, meet me in my office. We’ve got to discuss something. Urgently.” 

“Hello?” Simon grumbled, answering the call.

Price hung up the call immediately after. 

Simon tossed the phone to the side and threw his head into his hands. He'd been having more and more dreams about you lately. It seems his mind wouldn't give him a break from you. Even when he wasn't conscious, you'd still find your way into his head.

He looked at his nightstand and saw the watch you'd given to him as a birthday present, just a few weeks before you died. It was the only thing from you he had left. He never went anywhere without the watch. Grabbing it and slipping it on, he went to get ready to meet Price.

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

On the way to Price’s office, Simon let his thoughts drift to you once more. He missed you terribly. You were his everything before you died. Though the two of you weren’t in a relationship, it was clear the two of you had feelings for one another. You were his shadow, and he was yours. He’d have done anything to save you.

He took exhaled deeply and composed himself before entering Price’s office. He slowed as he was met with a rather solemn look on his captain's face. 

“Simon. We’ve got news. Why don’t you have a seat.” Price nodded at Simon and pointed to the chair across from him.

“‘M fine standing, what’s this about?”

“We need to talk about Verdansk.”

Simon's blood chilled at the mention of the mission. The mission in which he’d lost you. Ever since that day, he refused to ever go into detail about the mission. It hurt too much for him to replay it. He watched as you’d gotten shot right in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him. Your eyes had found his before your body hit the ground. Everything happened so fast, and he wasn't able to get to you in time. He had to watch on helplessly as the enemy dragged your dead body away from him.

“No, no. I’m not talking about that. We’ve agreed to never speak about that again.”

“Lieutenant, listen to -.”

“NO! I am not going to stand here and rehash this shit again. I can’t and won’t do it. You promised.”

“Simon, we found her. She’s alive.”

Simon’s entire world came screeching to a halt as he took in Price's words. “What did you say?”

“I said we found her, Simon. Y/N is alive.”

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

A/N: Not sure if I want to turn this into a mini series??

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader

[gardenofnoah]

the last part of all the times i told you. i am still ~not here~ but i started writing this ages ago and am ready to put this sweet little series to rest. talk soon love u

to watch you flit around the room makes his fingers ache. katsuki has no idea how many times you've gone back and forth between floors and from inside to back out, but to watch you makes him tired. for the first time in his life, all he wants is stillness. he wants you on this couch with him.

“c’mere.”

it's less of a command and more of a warning that comes too late, his mouth moving only after he's reached an arm out to catch you as you passed by his spot on the couch.

he pulls you until your back is pressed against his chest. you huff, squirming a little, and he doesn’t let up an inch. refuses to, now that he's got you where you should've been all afternoon.

“take your shirt off,” he mutters into the nape of your neck.

“what? it's been a long day, kat—“

“i’m not fucking you,” he groans, pressing his forehead into your warmth, “just... wanna feel you.”

he feels you go soft at his admission. you tap at his forearm to get him to let you up, and he's reluctant to but he does, electing to keep one arm around your waist as you sit up and pull the material over your head. his eyes follow the movement of it, committing the shape of you to memory like it could be ripped from him in the next second. you settle back down, facing him this time. he pulls you until there's not an inch between his chest and yours. he feels your heart kick against his own.

“missed you today.” years ago Katsuki would've rather died than admit something so vulnerable out loud, but things change. he takes a deep breath in at your hairline, soaking tissue deep in you and all that you've done today. he likes you best like this—soft, maybe a little sweaty. alive and in love.

“yeah?”

“mm.”

your lips quirk up softly, and you reach to trace the outline of his collar bone with the pads of your fingers. he cracks an eye open, glaring at you without an ounce of heat just to hear you giggle at his petulance. you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, and he feels like he's won something.

“i miss you all the time, kat.”

“maybe i want to hear it.”

“do you?”

“from you? no fuckin' way.”

you snort and roll your eyes. tucked under his chin, you don't see the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, always thrilled at the way his brashness doesn’t phase you. he leans forward to press it into the crown of your head. sometimes he feels so lucky it makes him a little queasy.

“i miss you all the time,” you say again. quieter, with a little more weight to it.

and he knows—he knows you do, because he does too. that feeling sits like a rock in his chest—it's there every time he wakes up too early and has to rip himself from the bed you share, all to make sure someone else can roll over to their love in the morning and not let go too soon.

it felt selfless, in the beginning. the right thing to do, a call that he answered willing. now it only hurts.

he smooths a palm up the curve of your spine to rest at the nape of your neck, and you press closer to him. sometimes he can’t believe you still do. he’s left so many times and missed so many things and somehow you still let him cling to you like it doesn’t shred your insides every time he pulls away. he thinks about how brave you’ve been—about how all the times he’s been praised for his strength or his commitment to peace, he'd deserved only a fraction of it compared to you.

he doesn’t want you to have to be brave anymore. if he’s honest with himself, he’s not sure he wants to be brave anymore, either.

“…asked Aizawa if there were any openings at the school.”

your fingers pause over his heart, and he thinks he can hear the gears in your brain turning. you lean back to look at him and he can’t read the expression on your face.

“why did you do that?”

“well if anymore of those old bastards quit those brats will be fuckin’ teaching themselves—”

“no,” you tap his chest with your fingertip to shut him up and he has to fight to suppress the smile, “no. why did you do that?”

he sighs softly, sliding his thumb down the length of your neck.

“don’t want to leave you anymore.”

“...oh,” you breathe, blinking at him like you’re still trying to catch up. he gives you time—pressing into the sides of your neck to try to will away the tension that still hasn’t left. thinking about the dimly lit moments he'll spend tracing the slope of it, just because he can—because he'll have them, now.

“you want to teach?”

“i want to come home to you in one piece,” he says, with more honesty than he thinks he's ever been capable of, “but hangin’ out with those brats shouldn’t be too bad either.”

you snort. “you think Aizawa felt that way when he taught you?”

“fuck off,” he says through a grin, “i was a damn great student.”

you smile and shake your head, and then you go quiet.

“i don’t want you to do this for me,” you whisper, like you don’t fully believe what you’re saying but think you should say it anyway. it makes him ache—it’s just like you to sacrifice for him, even now.

“not for you,” he murmurs just as gently, leaning forward to tap his forehead to yours. “because of you, a little bit, but i—“ he pauses, inhaling deeply and trying to be brave. “i want to be around. don’t like missin’ out on so much.”

and that is the truth. Katsuki thinks about the way you shuffle over the creaks in the old wooden steps every morning and he regrets that he’s not there to greet you at the bottom of them when you do. he hates the way you make breakfast alone, the way you sit at the dock without him. the way your families visit the house you bought together and he’s never in it to see them. he doesn’t know what it would be like to lean into that domesticity—into intimacy without urgency, without the tick of a clock that neither of you can see but are painfully aware of—but at this point in his life, he desperately wants to learn.

you let out a shaky exhale, wiggling closer to him. he lets you hide your face in his neck, arms coming around your back to keep you there. he thinks of how many times this has been reversed—of how many times his mind has run away from him and the only tether has been the weight of your arms around him.

“what’s the world going to do without Dynamight?”

he snorts. “they can start thanking him for beating some brains into their little shit gremlins.”

he feels your smile against his skin and it warms him. it’s another truth—and really, he does want to teach. he wants another reality for the next generation—one where they’re kept safe as long as possible. where they learn to be heroes the right way—the long way.

“love you.”

he feels it more than he hears it, rumbling from your chest to his. he pulls you closer still, leaning down to press his lips to the curve of your bare shoulder. he closes his eyes and breathes you in again.

“i love you, angel.”

#fic: all the times i told you #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou fic #mha fic #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction

[straylightdream]

what am I missing - 3racha

act seven: “do you just want to let me play with you?”

feat: bang chan x f.reader, seo changbin x f.reader, han jisung x f.reader

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

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𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐚𝐧: let me know what you guys think and which boy you’re rooting for.

𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. Please fill out this form.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nipple play, clit and vaginal fingering, lots of dry humping and some dirty talk. for the story as a whole, oral (fem & male receiving), piv, unprotected sex, groping, threesome, use or traffic light system, choking, and spanking, the mc calls herself a slut more warning to come.

It has been too long since you had gone out with all the boys. Sitting in a busy bar you watched as Chan and Jisung were playing a game of pool together. Changbin walked over to the table and placed a chilled glass of beer in front of you.

“Why haven’t I seen you in forever?” He sits down across from you. This is the first time you’re seeing him in person since you slept together. Life has been crazy between work and other things.

“Sorry I’ve been busy.”

“So has Jisung been bugging you?” He asked before taking a drink of his beer.

You can’t help but smile. Jisung has been texting you nonstop since he figured out you slept with Changbin.

It seems like everyone knows about Jisung asking you out. “Yeah we’re going out tomorrow.” You’re assuming he made a show of telling the boys his plans.

“Once again I want to state I didn’t tell him about what happened between us.”

“Let’s be honest, they were gonna find out at some point.”

“Bin, can I ask you something?” Since your night with Changbin you felt like you had a million things on your mind.

“Oh course.”

“I slept with Chan the other night, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have sex with Jisung. Does that make me a bad person?”

“I can’t say I’m shocked Chan made a move. No it doesn’t make you a bad person. I love you and I want you know that but you aren’t cheating on anyone here. You should be able to explore having the sex life you feel like you have missed.”

“Shouldn’t I explore it with one person?” You know if an outsider saw what was unfolding between you and your friends they would probably think you’re a slut.

“No it doesn’t have to be with one person. Y/N I’m confident when it comes to what I can do in bed. I know I can fuck you until you can’t think straight and make you cum until you beg me to stop. But I know having sex with me is way different than Jisung.” You’ve heard lots of stories about Jisung in bed. You know he’s quite dominant and likes to test out kinks. Many drunken nights you’ve heard stories about him tying different girls to his bed.

“What about Chan?”

“Chan doesn’t run his mouth about his sex life so the only person who knows what he’s like in bed is you.”

You stay silent for a moment. If Chan doesn’t talk about his sex life you don’t want to share details about what happened on your living room couch. “I want to know what Jisung is like in bed.”

“Then find out tomorrow night.” You take a sip of your beer and you can feel Changbin staring at you. “After you sleep with him, if you’re still interested would you have sex with me again?”

Your cheeks burn feeling slightly embarrassed by his bold statement. “You want to have sex again?”

He leans forward resting both his elbows on the table, “absolutely. I told you I need to play with your cute pink vibrator while I fuck you.”

“Oh.”

“So do me a favor and don’t let Chan or Jisung use it on you before I do.”

You can’t help but smile. There is something about knowing the fact that Changbin still wants you that makes you feel confident. You wonder if you should play with fire and see how far you can take this.

“Am I allowed to use it by myself?”

“Are you still playing with yourself even after you fucked Channie and I?”

“Of course,” you know you’re being bold but you want to play this game.

Before Changbin can say anything Jisung sits down next to you and Chan sits next to Changbin.

“What were you two talking about?” Jisung asked.

“I was telling Y/N how much we have missed seeing her.”

“Well it looks like everyone has a chance to see Y/N other than me,” Jisung sighs.

“What are you talking about Jisung?” Chan groans, leaning back in the booth.

“Are we not going to bring up Chan’s hickey on his neck?” Jisung is sometimes too observant for his own good.

Your eyes instantly go wide knowing that Jisung figured it out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So everyone is having sex other than me?” He whines.

Chan looks at you for a long moment before he smacks Jisung's hand from across the table. “Knock it off Jisung.”

“Jisung, aren't we having a stay at home movie date tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, do you still want to after Chan clearly visited you?” He looks at you with a serious look for a moment before he cracks a smile.

“I would still like for you to come over.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and Chan looks down at the table. You wish you could talk to Chan and ask him how he’s actually feeling. Things feel so complicated with Chan right now.

“Okay good,” he beams.

Jisung finally stops being annoying and the boys start talking about work and other things. You aren’t saying much. You just listen and smile. Your eyes keep bouncing between Chan and Changbin. You catch Chan staring at you a few times and each he gives you that same gentle smile. Changbin on the other hand seems like he’s paying attention to Jisung and whatever he’s talking about but in reality he’s focused on you by the way his foot nudges your legs open under the table. Your eyes lock and he gives you a knowing smirk.

You look at Jisung trying to focus on what he’s talking about.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” you glance at Changbin before pushing your beer closer to Jisung.

Walk down the hall you can’t help but wonder if someone will follow you. The moment you reach to push the door you feel someone grab your hips.

“Not so fast,” you hear Changbin groan. He pulls your curvy body against his and you can instantly tell he’s getting hard. “Do you need to use the restroom or do you just want to let me play with you?”

“I don’t have any condoms Bin,” you sigh.

“I should really ask you if you’re on birth control,” he says with his lips ghosting your ear.

You reach for the door handle opening the door to the single stall room. Changbin guides you both inside. He releases you and locks the door.

“Honey, you never answered my question.”

“I’m on birth control. It’s probably tmi but I have been since Yunho.”

“Okay good. I got checked after we slept together to let you know I’m clean.”

“Bin is this your way of asking if you can fuck me without a condom?”

“Would you let me fuck you without a condom?”

You take a deep breath realizing that you’ve never had sex without one before. You never let anyone of the past take you without one. You trusted Changbin and you knew he would take care of you if he did accidentally get you pregnant. “Yes, but we can’t do that everytime.”

He pushes you against the locked door. The look in his eyes as traps you against the door is intoxicating. There is something about the way Changbin kisses you that makes you feel like you’re on fire. “Jisung is going to be pissed when he realizes I’m going to fuck you again before he even had a chance to know how you feel.”

He kisses you like he’s trying to get you naked. Everything about Changbin has always been intense. He’s just as intense when it comes to every aspect about his sex life. His hands roam your body as he kisses you.

“Take your underwear off and lift up your skirt,” he pulls back from you. You follow his instructions quietly. He unbuckles his jeans and pushes down his boxers enough to free himself. He helps you jump on the counter and spreads your legs quickly.

You butt rest on the cold counter as he runs his length through your already wet folds. “I know I didn’t get to give you foreplay really but I know you can cum.”

He pushes into you slowly. You’re instantly reminded of how thick he is. He might not be as long as Chan but he’s the thickest you’ve had and the stretch feels delicious.

You’ve never had sex in a semi public place like this before. Your head rests on his shoulder trying your hardest to stay silent as his hips move at a fast pace.

“Baby do you need more?” He groans.

Silent pants leave your mouth begging for more anything he’ll give you. His hand snakes between your body touching where you’re connected. His finger toy with your sensitive clit.

Your hands roam his back touching any part of him you can reach.

Your body feels like a live wire and each thrust leaves you begging to fall apart. Changbin connects his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss muffling your moans as you fall apart. A white hot wave washes over as your wall contract around him.

He pulls out of you hastily. “Where can I finish,” he moans. He pumps his length with his eyes locked on you. You’re drunk on lust and can’t form words as you stare at him. He finds his release against your bare thigh. He stares back at you for a moment before he starts moving. He grabs a paper towel and cleans himself off and pulls up his pants. He grabs another paper towel and turns on the sink behind you wetting it. You sit there slowly coming from the aftermath from your earth shattering release. He gently wipes away his release from your thigh.

You blink at him slowly before he leans up and gently presses his lips to your.

“You did good, baby,” he smiles.

“Jisung is gonna know what happens,” you can’t help but feel embarrassed.

He helps you off the counter and hands you back your underwear. “When you sleep with Jisung, remember how good I made you feel.”

When I comes to Changbin you’re realizing you’re fucked in every way possible.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids #my writing #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan #skz #bang chan x reader #changbin #bang chan smut #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #Changbin smut #Changbin x reader #Seo Changbin smut #what am I missing #3racha #3racha x reader #3racha smut #3racha imagine #kpop smut #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine -Her Sister Spends the Night

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: I'm not a huge fan of the way this one was written but I adore this series so much. Oh also the game I am referencing of Quinn's in the beginning is the game the Avs came back from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Canucks. tehe. I love Luke Hughes but I am an Avs fan until I die. Summary: Jasmine seeks out advice from her older sister and Luke. Warnings: I don't think so? Word Count: 2,664 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

She was laying on her back as Luke was laying on top of her, his head rested on her chest. He was watching the Canucks game on the TV screen as he ran his hand up and down her side. Her fingertips trailed up and down his back slowly. The Canucks were playing the Avs and they were up by three goals.

“Why are his games always so late?” he let out with a yawn, she chuckled as she curled her fingers in his hair. 

“Time Zones, baby,” she teased.

“Time Zones are stupid,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against her collarbone. He shut his eyes as he continued peppering kisses along her skin.

“Luke,” she mumbled as a wide smile formed on her lips. She tilted her head back as she bit her lip. His hands gripped her waist tightly as she arched her back into him, “What about the game?”

“They’re up by three,” he said with a chuckle as he reached for the remote on the coffee table. Her phone started to ring on the coffee table as well. Instead of reaching for the remote, he took a hold of the phone handing it to her. “It’s your sister,” he mumbled as he reluctantly stood up from his lying position on top of her. “I’m gonna-” he trailed off as he pointed towards her bedroom.

She rolled her eyes playfully as she pulled the phone up to her ear, “Hey Jasmine, it’s late, are you okay?” Y/N asked as she stood up from the couch, turning off the TV in the process. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I just miss my sister,” she said as her voice broke slightly. Y/N pouted as she walked towards her bedroom. “Are you and Luke busy this weekend? I was wondering if I could stay with you guys for a few days.” She sniffled on her end of the phone.

She stepped inside her bedroom to see Luke sprailed out on the bed, scrolling on his phone. He lifted his gaze, admiring her frame while biting his lip. “Uh-Luke has a game Saturday afternoon but otherwise we aren’t busy,” she mumbled. Luke’s eyes widened as he nodded slightly, “I can pick you up after school tomorrow and bring you back to the city,”

Y/N sat down on the bed as Luke slid closer to her, he slowly ran his hand along her lower back. “Wait really?” she asked excitedly.

“Maybe, just maybe bring your jersey with you,” she teased. Jasmine gasped excitedly. Luke let out a dry chuckle as he slowly glided his hand beneath her shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N! It’s going to be so fun!” Jasmine said, “I just need a break from home for a few days,”

It was unusual for Jasmine to even call her sister, let alone want to come stay with her for a few days. Y/N was going to take the opportunity.

“Of course, Sis. Well, we are getting ready for bed, so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Y/N offered.

“Yeah, yeah. Good night,” Jasmine said before she hung up the phone. Y/N slowly dropped the phone from her ear. She switched her gaze towards him. He smiled softly as he tilted his head to the side. 

“Is she okay?” Luke asked as he continued delicately rubbing his hand on her skin. She reached her hand over and delicately rested it onto his pinked cheeks. 

“Something seems off but she wants to come visit us,” she muttered as she ran her thumb across his cheek, “She seems to think we live together though,” she let out while squinted her eyes slightly. She smirked.

He returned the smirk as he clenched his jaw, “I guess I do spend a lot of time here, huh?”

She leaned towards him delicately pressing her lips against his. He gripped her hip tightly as she slid closer to him. She slowly climbed on top of him, straddling his body. He gripped her thighs as she grinded against his lap. She pulled her lips away from his own as she fluttered her eyes open.

“What if you did?” she mumbled as she delicately ran her finger across his lower lip. He pressed his lips against her finger, “I mean you only stay at your place when you have an early travel day. Most of your clothes are here, you buy groceries-”

“Well that’s because you were surviving on Poptarts and ramen instead of real food,” he countered as he giggled. She rolled her eyes playfully as she rested her hand on the base of his neck.

“What do you think?” she asked as she raised her eyebrows. He pursed his lips forward as he tilted his head to the side a little bit. 

“You just want help with the rent, huh? I’ve got this big NHL salary that-” he teased.

She gasped as she leaned away from him still straddling his body. She delicately slapped her hand against his chest, “You know what, just for that, I take back my offer,” She started to climb off of his lap but he quickly took a hold of her waist. Pulling her towards him, he smirked as he scanned her features. He ran his hands up and down her thighs.

“We are going to have to do some redecorating-”

“Oh shut up,” she muttered as she leaned down and kissed him urgently.

~~~

Luke stood at the stove finishing up stirring up the stirfry he made for Y/N, Jasmine, and himself. He was humming along to the country music playing. After a few more minutes, “Lukey,” Y/N called out as she walked inside with Jasmine. Luke lifted his gaze and smiled widely towards the pair that walked inside.

“Hey! Dinner is almost done. I didn’t know if you’d like stir fry. If you don’t want that I can put in a frozen pizza,” Luke expressed as he met Jasmine’s gaze. She smiled softly as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

“Stir fry is great, thanks,” she mumbled.

“Why don’t you put your stuff in our room?” Y/N offered as she delicately rested her hand on Jasmine’s shoulder. She nodded as she wandered towards the bedroom. Y/N dropped her keys on the counter beside the vase that was nearly exploding with roses. “You didn’t have to cook us dinner,” she mumbled as she leaned her head against his arm. 

He smiled as he wrapped his arm around her, he kissed her head. “Of course I did, Baby. How was the drive?” he asked as she slipped away from his grasp. She leaned against the counter, watching him add a few more seasonings to the pan. 

“It wasn’t bad, Jasmine and I jammed out to some 5 Seconds of Summer,” 

“That’s good, I’m glad,” he mumbled as he turned the stove off, “Did she tell you why all of the sudden she wanted to come visit?” he asked quietly and Y/N shook her head. “We’ll make it a fun weekend for her,” he said as he stepped away from the stove.

“Thank you,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smiled as he leaned towards her and delicately pressed his lips against her cheek.

“Come on, Baby, let’s eat,” he muttered.

After a few minutes the table was set up and the three of them were sitting and eating the amazing dinner that Luke prepared for them. “This is really good,” Jasmine said with a mouthful. 

“Thank you,” Luke said as he smiled towards Jasmine.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?” Jasmine asked. Luke took a bite of food before tilting his head back. He shrugged his shoulders.

“My older brother Quinn can cook pretty well so he’s been teaching me for the past few summers,” he explained, “Also my brother Jack and your sister can’t cook for shit so somebody has to feed them,” 

“That is not true!” Y/N countered. 

“You can make two things, burnt eggs and a decent grilled cheese.” Luke countered as his lips curled up in a half smile.

“He’s not wrong, Y/N. Remember that time you tried making mac and cheese for EJ and I and you forgot to put water in the noodles!” Jasmine let out. Luke’s eyes widened dramatically as he stared towards Y/N. 

“What do you mean you didn’t put water in the noodles?” Luke asked while chuckling.

“I went to put water in the noodles but you and EJ were screaming at one another. I forgot that I didn’t put water in it and just put the noodles on the stove,” she defended. 

“You just look into the pot, Darling, that’s how you see if there’s water in it or not,” Luke teased as he rested his hand onto her thigh. Jasmine smiled politely at the mention of EJ. 

“Not funny,” she poked his side.

~~~

It was a few hours after dinner and the three of them were sitting on the couch letting Jasmine pick a movie for them to watch. She sat leaning her body forward as she scrolled through Max trying to find something interesting enough. Y/N sat beside Luke as she curled into his side. His hand was doing small circles against her hip as he kept his gaze on his phone as he was texting with Quinn. Y/N kept her gaze on her little sister, who was a little off the whole afternoon. 

“Have you guys seen Barbie?” Jasmine asked as she stopped on the screen. Luke let out a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, we did and we got dressed up,” Y/N said excitedly.

“No way,” Jasmine said wide eyed, “Do you have pictures?” she asked. Y/N pulled her phone from her pocket as she scrolled to the handful of pictures of herself with Luke and several other couples from the team going to see the movie together. Each pair dressed up in dramatic Barbie and Ken fashion. 

Y/N was wearing a short bright pink dress with a bright white pair of sneakers. Luke was wearing a light pink t-shirt with a light blue sweater vest tied over his shoulders with a pair of white shorts. Many of the guys on the team wore similar outfits and were standing closely with their Barbie. 

“Twitter went nuts when we shared these photos,” Y/N said, mentioning the fans. Jasmine shook her head as she zoomed in on each player that was in the photo. 

“Can we watch it again?” she asked.

“Of course, let me go make us some bowls of ice cream,” Y/N said while raising her eyebrows. She stood up and Luke followed her towards the kitchen. She pulled the gallon of ice cream from the freezer and placed it onto the counter. Luke rested his hand onto the counter as he came up behind Y/N delicately kissing her cheek for a brief moment.

It wasn’t awkward for him to show affection towards Y/N that much anymore around her family. It was becoming natural and she was grateful for that.

“Is it weird that social media knows about your relationship?” Jasmine asked from the couch. Luke tilted his head to the side as he furrowed his eyebrows. Y/N took a sharp breath. Jasmine was staring towards her hands for a few seconds as she anxiously messed with her nails.

“Some of the fans aren’t the nicest to Y/N but it’s easier not hiding it from social media,” Luke explained as he met Jasmine’s gaze, “I also have seen a few signs that say something like ‘only here for Y/N’s boyfriend’.” Luke further explains as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Why do you ask?” Y/N asked Jasmine as she added another scoop of ice cream into Jasmine’s bowl.

“EJ was having Joey over for a sleepover this weekend and Joey asked me not to be there because he thought it would be obvious to EJ that we are dating,” she let out in a long rushed sentence. Luke’s eyes widened as he stuck a spoon into the bowl he claimed. 

“I-I didn’t know you and Joey were dating,” Y/N let out as she put the ice cream back in the freezer before she took a hold of the two bowls and walked towards the couch beside Jasmine.

Joey was EJ’s best friend. Since Jasmine and EJ have the same friend group, Jasmine and Joey were close as well. Y/N quickly handed Jasmine her bowl of ice cream as she sat down beside her.

“We didn’t want EJ to find out because he would flip out. I really like him but I don’t want EJ to be mad,”

“Why would EJ be mad?” Y/N asked as Luke slid closer to her, bumping his thigh against hers.

“Because he was Joey’s friend first and if he found out that we were dating it would be weird and awkward. I’m just tired of hiding it,”

“Who asked to keep it a secret?” Luke asked as he brought a spoonful of ice cream towards his mouth. It was against the diet restrictions of the season but he didn’t care. 

Jasmine stayed quiet as she brought her own spoonful towards her own mouth as she met Luke’s gaze. “It was Joey’s,” she mumbled. Y/N glanced towards Luke, hesitantly trying to find the best way to comfort her sister. “It just sucks. We were friends first! I don’t know why he wanted me out of my own house, so he can hang out with my brother. I just don’t get it,” she mumbled, getting teary eyed.

“It seems like he’s trying to spare his own feelings,” Y/N offered as she felt Luke rest his hand on her lower back, “He’s dating his best friend's sister. You guys are all in the same friend group, it could get messy. Maybe he isn’t sure how to go about all of that,”

“Well then why did he make the first move?” she pleaded. Luke's eyes widened as his lips fell into a pout.

“Guys that age don’t really think before they do something. He’s probably liked you for a long time and didn’t know what to do. Maybe now he’s panicking and doesn’t know how to handle it properly.” Luke explained. Jasmine met his gaze as she wiped a tear that fell from her eye. 

“Did you do something like that when you were younger?” she asked. 

Luke shyly smiled as he licked his lips nervously, “I didn’t really date anyone until your sister,” he muttered. Jasmine pulled her head back as she fought a smirk on her lips. 

“Really?” she asked as she glanced towards Y/N. 

“I was really focused on hockey and-”

“Shy, he’s really shy,” Y/N interrupted him as she leaned towards him. Jasmine lauaghed as she tilted her head back. Luke’s mouth fell open as he fought the smile forming on his lips.

“But if you two just talk to your brother, I’m sure EJ will be understanding. I think he’d just want you both happy,” Luke switched the subject back to Jasmine’s situation. “And if anything happens between the two of you, EJ would be more upset with Joey than you,”

“I don’t know about that,” Jasmine sighed out.

“I do,” Y/N said confidently. Jasmine smiled softly as she shifted her gaze towards the TV screen that was still showing the first second of the Barbie movie.

“So you seriously didn’t date anyone until my sister?” Jasmine questioned. Luke clenched his jaw as he pursed his lips forward. He took a long breath.

“I didn’t think I would ever be a good boyfriend,” he shrugged.

“My dad likes you, I’m pretty sure you’re a great boyfriend,” Jasmine let out while wide eyed. 

“It’s true,” Y/N mumbled as she kissed him briefly. Jasmine cringed as she pressed play on the movie finally.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes #luke hughes fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #hockey #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils

[plush-rabbit]

A/N: I can't come up with a title so,,,, yeah!! Anyways, I've had this saved in my drafts and I miss writing and even with spring break!! my professor still gives us homework. So, here I am. this is just a thing where like reader is an angel and falls and like it was gonna be a short series, but like,,, i never finish my series (except for ciays)

Word Count: 3.1K

-

You sit with a pit in your stomach. Your legs are causing the items on the table to shake, and you can't stop the dread that is looming over you, cold and heavy. There's a shift beside you, and a hand cups over your thigh, a feeble attempt to get you to stop moving. You can only flinch in response. 

“Can you just- I don’t know, fucking chill or something?” His hand gives you a squeeze, before pulling back and crossing his arms. “They aren’t gonna do shit to you.”

“Lucifer fell because he asked too many questions,” you counter, gasping for breath. The room feels too tight, too full and empty all at once.

Beside you, he scoffs. “Love to break it to ya babe, but you aren’t him. You’ll be fine.”

“Exactly,” you hiss, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m not him. I’m- I’m a low ranking Angel. I- Oh Father, I don’t hold any type of status. I’m going to fall,” you voice breaks and tears are in your eyes, horror and fear making you pale.

“You’re not.” He’s harsher this time, and pulls you to look at him. His name is on your tongue, and he interrupts you. “I’m vouching for you. And so are the rest of my girls. You’ll be fine.” He loosens his grip on you, and smooths a hand down your hair. “Chillax, babe. I know you’re a little goody-two-shoes, but this is nothing. You’ll probably just get demoted or some shit.”

“Adam.” Your hands grasps onto his, and you want to believe that he’s right. “But what if-”

The door opens, and you both whip your head around, watching as Seraphim walks in, her head held high and face lack of expression. The pit in your stomach swallows more of you.

Your rise from your seat, and Adam begrudgingly follows. “Sera-” you clear your throat- “I uh- Seraphim. Good evening. I- I thought we were not allowed to meet before the trial,” you look around the room, and for a moment, you have hope. She wouldn’t go against orders, so perhaps she’s here with good news. You give her a tense smile, and she walks to the desk, her wings taut and folded behind her. 

She sits at the chair with her arms folded over the desk. “I wanted to be the one to deliver the verdict.”

Your brows furrow, and sit back down, your ankles crossed over one another, and your body leaning towards Adam’s. His hands reach over the space between the chairs and you grasp onto him, nails digging into the clothed covered skin. 

“The verdict?” You ask in a whisper. “But I hadn’t- What about my trial?”

“It was decided that you would not have a trial.” Her voice is like stone, unwavering, strong, and heavy. 

“Decided by who?” A chill runs down your spine, and it’s as if you can feel a presence around you.

“If there’s no trial then how do fuck do you all even have a verdict?” Adam, as always, is crude, and it only furthers the sickness deep in you.

“Adam,” you say in a high pitched voice. 

He turns to you, and squeezes your hands. “Well? What is it? Community service? A demotion in rank? Paperwork?”

“Sera,” your chest is tight, your bones pricing into the tender flesh, “why didn’t I have a trial?”

“Look, the demotion can’t be that bad, right? I’ll look after them. Make them my assistant or something. I got shitload to do anyways, they’ll keep me on it.”

“Sera,” you plead, “I was promised a trial. I was told that it would be fair.”

“No trial is good, right? Means it was easy to consider your fate.” You flinch. “You get to be my assistant. Don’t worry babe-” he tugs on your hands for your attention, but you’re fixated on Seraphim and that way that they look at you with somber eyes- “I won’t work you too hard.” The playful tinged words make you sick. 

“Sera,” you croak, leaning away from Adam- “my trial. It was promised.”

She calls your name, it’s whispered like a prayer, uttered like a curse and laced in sorrow. You know your outcome, before she can even say it. “I’m terribly sorry.” Your body goes cold. “It has been decided that your punishment for questioning the beliefs and practices of Heaven will be the taking of your wings and The Fall to Hell.”

You can taste the bile. It burns, the acid fills your mouth, and it makes your eyes burn with hot tears. 

“What the fuck!” Adam shouts, your hands are let go, and you stare into her eyes. You can hear the chair squeak as it’s pushed away and it nearly topples over. Adam goes to you, short strides to grasp his hands over your shoulders. “That isn’t fucking fair! They were promised a trial, so where the fuck is it?” He’s furious, and the hands around you bring you no comfort. 

“I’m terribly sorry.” Seraphim looks at you as she speaks. “For the both of you.” Her eyes dart between you and Adam.

“I didn't mean to,” you whisper, your nails digging into your clothes. “I promise that I-”

“Come on Sera! I've done worse shit than them. Can't we just look the other way?”

“Adam, I need to speak to them alone.”

“Like fuck I’ll-”

“Adam,” you breathe out. He looks at you, moving to kneel in front of you and you look at the demonic mask, and you want to retch. “Let us speak in private, please. I’ll meet you outside.”

He looks at you, through the golden eyes of the mask. “Fine,” he huffs. He stands, and presses a kiss to the top of your temple. You wish that you could return the gesture- that you could look up and kiss him back without worry. “Yell if you need me,” he whispers to you. You nod, unable to mutter a word to him.

The door clicks behind him, and you’re left alone with Seraphim- something that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience. Perhaps if circumstances were different, you’d be more ecstatic. 

They call your name, and she holds her hands out to you. Like a trained dog, you place your hands in hers, and you let the tears fall.

“Why am I falling?” You ask, gaining no comfort from her hands.

“Emily- one of the younger Seraphim- has begun to question certain aspects of Heaven. I fear that the questions won't settle.”

“So this is- I’m meant to scare her? To remind her of her place?”

Seraphim sighs, and she lifts a hand, tracing a delicate finger along the back of your hand. You hate the ways he says your name- like she still cares for you. Like your name is sweet as honey. As if she has the right to speak to you with care and love. “You must understand that Emily is still so young.”

“And a higher ranking than I am.” You turn away from her, but you can’t pry your hands away. You want comfort, even if it's given by your judge and even if the hands that hold yours are going to be stained in gold. They say nothing to your comment, and you hold their hand tighter. “When?” You croak out.You dig your nails into their skin- it’s cold, and as much as you want to hurt them, you cannot.

“By the end of the week.” Their words are spoken without wavering. “You’ll be confined in one of our holding rooms for incoming souls for the time being. You’ll still be allowed visitors. The spectacle will be watched by only those that you allow, and by the high-ranking angels.” You let out a sob, and bow your head. “It will be quick. With the ranking unbeknownst to the rest, it will be an Exterminator who will remove your wings. They’ll be wearing one of the ceremonial robes. After the removal of your wings, you’ll be-” she pauses and you can already feel the emptiness.

“I’ll be cast out.” You look up and she nods, her hands squeezing yours. 

“Understand that if I could will it any other way, I would.” 

You look at the hands holding onto yours, and you think about how someone will have to clean your blood. How they’ll get on their knees and wipe the ichor from the floor, how the rags will drip in riches and stain their hands in sin. Your wings flitter in response. 

“You said an Exterminator?”

“Lute has been tasked with your severance.”

“Why not Adam?”

Seraphim looks shocked. “I- I would not wish for him to be the one to remove your wings. If it were any other, I believe he would do an excellent job, but since it’s you,” she trails off. “I do not believe he would be able to commit.”

“But Lute can,” you say.

“Yes. She is able to put her feelings aside, and do her job.” Seraphim pauses, their eyes are trained on you, and a few look at you in pity. “However, if you wish for it to be Adam-”

“No,” you interrupt. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t be able to.” Your wings feel heavy. “Sera?” She hums in response. “How soon will I be cast out after my wings are removed?”

“Effective immediately.”

-

You lay in your new bed- the mattress new and solid underneath you. It’s nothing like the one back home. You can’t seem to get comfortable, all that you can do is lay there wrapped in Adam’s arms, pulled close to his body where your breath tickles at his skin. “You can run,” he says quietly into your ear. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, and you can run.” His act of defiance brings tears to your eyes. 

“Adam,” your voice breaks.

“The Exterminators will be the ones tasked with chasing you down.” You feel the way his hands grip your skin, clawing and desperate to keep you beside him. “They won’t get you. They’re loyal to me. They’ll listen. You can live on Earth.” 

When you close your eyes, tears trace down the curve of your face. “Lute is the one performing the severance of my wings,” you tell him a hoarse whisper, unable to keep the horror out of it. Even speaking about it is enough to send a pain down your spine and at the base of your wings. His nails pierce into your skin, pinching into the softness of your stomach. His wings flutter, and they are heavy above your body. “She’ll do a good job,” you comfort. “A clean cut that will make it easy to heal.” There’s bile burning in your throat. “Please don’t be upset with her after the event.” His arms wrap tighter around you, and his wings hide you from the outside, curving over your body, cupping you and holding you. Your hands hold onto him, at the nape of his neck, trying not to look at him, but commit his touch to memory. “I don’t think you should be there.”

“Like fuck I won’t,” he seethes, the venom in his words are unable to hide the tremor. 

“Adam,” you murmur, “I’m serious. I- You shouldn’t see me like that. I- I know that I would look for you after it happened. I- I can’t ask for you to see me so broken.”

“I’m going,” he tells you in a tight voice, his breaths coming out in gasps.

You nod, and swallow the pit lodged in your throat. “Please don’t stop it.” He whispers your name, and lets you go, coming up to a sitting position. His wings still stretched, touching you so gently. You look up at him, tear stains glistening on your cheeks. “This is my fault. I’ve accepted it. I know I’m going to plead and cry for mercy, but ignore me, Adam.” Your hands find his, and you hold onto him desperately. “Don’t fight for me. Let it happen.”

“You should run away,” he tells you again. “We can run together.” Tears glisten in his eyes, and you don’t recall ever seeing him so upset. 

You smile, but it trembles and falls, and tears spill out. “Where would we go?” You ask in a quiet voice. 

“Earth.” His jaw tightens, and you don’t comment when his voice cracks. “We’d take a bunch of gems from here and sell them there. We’d be rich.” You try not to let the quaking in your chest show, the soft stuttering that threatens to release a storm. “We’d sing in some dingy ass club, and I’d use my blessing to make us famous.”

You laugh, and it’s clouded by tears. “I thought we were in hiding?”

“We’d be in disguise,” he counters, a hand prying away from your grip to wipe away the tears. “We’d settle after a few years, get a nice house in a big city. Gamble, drink, fuck. Maybe have a few kids in like a hundred years.” He smiles when you turn your head to kiss his palm, your other hand going to curve over his. “We’d have a nice life.” He lays over you, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, and presses his lips to the warmth of your skin when your hands tangle themselves into his hair. “It’s a nice plan, right?”

“Of course,” you say through tears. “You always come up with good plans.”

-

You stand in a stadium, dressed in white, your back exposed and your wings fluttering about no matter how much you will them to still. No one fears that you are going to run. Not when there are archers lined, and not when the Angels are watching you. You see Adam, and he wears his mask, standing with his arms held behind him. 

You wish you told Seraphim that he wasn’t allowed. 

Chains bind your ankles and wrists. The iron pinching your skin and irritating the flesh. You’d take this pain a thousand times over than what’s about to happen. 

“For questioning Heaven’s beliefs and practices,” the voice echoes around, “we sentence you,” your name sounds empty, and you can’t breathe, “to have your wings removed and to be banished from Heaven.” You do a stupid thing and glance at Adam and he looks away at your glance. You feel a tinge of pain, but it’s better this way. “You will now have your wings removed.”

You turn your head, and see Lute. She’s shrouded in white robes with gold accents. Her hair is tied, and her wings are pinned behind her. She does not cast you on any type of look and you're grateful for that.

Her gaze is steeled. You know her. She knows you. She’s seen you at your worst, and you’ve seen her at her best. You’ve shared meals with her- broken bread and drank wine together. She’s been in your home. Her smile has always been sharp, and there are moments where it’s tender, vulnerable and saved for those closest to her. 

She does not smile at you. She keeps her gaze focused on you, and you can’t help but tremble, the iron of the chains clinking together. You look away, and you’re grateful you had nothing to eat the morning of. You were grateful you were not given the choice of a last meal. 

“On your knees,” Lute tells you in a strained voice. 

You hope Adam won’t be mad at her. You hope that if he  is, that she can take it.

You flinch at the chill touch of the sword. Your wings flutter, and you bite your tongue. You should make your case once more. You shouldn’t be here. You only asked a simple question. This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a point against your back. You look up and find Adam. You need him to save you. You can run away with him. You’ll live the life he wanted. You’d do anything. You’d be his. You yelp as something sharp cuts into you. You’d never disobey Heaven again. You’ll never ask again. You’ll be content. Please, Father, you’ll be good.

“Stay still,” she says, breathing out the last word in a plea, and when you cannot, she’s forced to continue. 

The tearing is a sharp pain. One that makes you writhe and scream, your throat raw and the sounds unbearably loud. Every twist and turn only further aggravates the wound, skin pulling and muscles bare for the Angels to see. Warmth runs down your back, caressing the small part of your back and spilling onto your legs and thighs. Your hands slam into the ground, clawing at the porcelain floor. Through tears, you can liquid gold, shining and shimmering.

The cool air is agony against your open wounds. You’re warm, and wet, and the final strip of skin is pulled away from you. The heaviness of your wings are gone from you, and crane your neck to see them land with a heavy ‘thud’ away from you. The base of the ivory feathers are drenched in gold, and you can only think about the misery you’re in, and you reach for them. You need them back, you want them back. You’d sew them onto yourself if you could, but you can’t leave them here.

Your eyes glance around, wide and horrified, searching the crowd, and you roll onto your back, screaming once more, and calling for Father, your eyes landing on Adam. Legs block your view, and heavy hands lift you, pulling on your arm, and stretching the raw muscle. 

You can hear someone, but your own screams overpower the other, and for a moment, you’re in the air, lifted and unable to breathe, until gravity pulls you down.

It’s a searing pain. It burns your skin and the whips of air slash against your back and body. You’re beaten and battered, carried by the air of Hell, and your screams only echo around you. The ground is unforgiving, a crater forming around you as you land. Gravel and sticks push against your skin. Your body lays crumpled on the floor, limbs twisted around each other, and your body is a mix of gold and dirt. 

Weeds twist into your hair, and the stench of Hell makes you retch. You cry on the ground, alone and numb. There is no Father here; there is no warmth for you here. In a shay breath, with your hands clawing at the dirt, you wish for death. You wish for the demons to pry you apart and for your body to never recover. 

-

And far away, tucked away in his castle, eyes looking up at the heavens, Lucifer sees a shooting star streak across the sky, and his heart drops. 

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hh adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #i got a few messages for my spot series so i wanna continue that #especially since i had a line i really wanted to use in my cookies and cream one #i also really wanted to finish the ghostface one #but like idk #i had like three different endings planned for it #and then there was the iwthysi with shigaraki #and like is it cringe?? #yes #but i love him #anyways #im on my masters and my professors are not teaching me!! #like how are you going to preach about professionalism and not respond to emails #anyways love you bye!! #also shout out to ciays mention!! #woo!!

[attackfish]

So everybody here knows that I'm notorious for being a massive defender of Ursa, and that I have no patience for the "Ursa was a bad mother, she favored Zuko, and was abusive to Azula and abandoned her kids, and made Ozai abuse Zuko," narrative. That narrative is vile, victim blaming, and deeply stupid on a number of levels.

With that out of the way, I want to talk about some really really bad parenting we see Ursa do during the series. And it is to be clear really really bad.

In the Book Two episode, "Bitter Work", Zuko and Iroh have a conversation:

ZUKO: So Uncle, I've been thinking. It's only a matter of time before I run into Azula again. I'm going to need to know more advanced firebending if I want to stand a chance against her. I know what you're going to say, she's my sister and I should be trying to get along with her-

IROH: No, she's crazy, and she needs to go down.

This scene is a favorite of a certain type of Azula fan who wants to paint Iroh as a big meanie who didn't wave his magic redemption wand over Azula the way he clearly did over Zuko. See? See? He's writing her off here and calling her crazy.

This of course misses the context of that scene, which is that Zuko is taking care of a severely injured Iroh, who was injured by Azula, in what looked a heck of a lot like a murder attempt. Earlier in Book Two, in the episode, "The Avatar State", Azula unambiguously attempts to murder her brother after failing to capture him, and he is only saved by Iroh's quick reflexes.

But let's leave that argument aside for today because what interests me about this scene in the context of Ursa's parenting, is the line Zuko says right before Iroh's infamous declaration: "I know what you're going to say, she's my sister and I should be trying to get along with her."

Because in the context of Zuko and Iroh's situation, where Azula has recently attempted to kill Zuko, and just put Iroh into a coma that Zuko had to take care of him during, in which he has only just woken up from, this line from Zuko actually demonstrates some really warped thinking. It is not a healthy response to the situation at all. And his assumption is that a good caring parent figure like Iroh is going to respond to this situation by telling him that Zuko needs to get along with his sister, who is actively trying to hunt him down and capture or kill him.

So why does Zuko think that? What adult reacted that way to Azula's violence toward her brother in the past? It wasn't Ozai. Ozai is not going to use the language of getting along with one's siblings, when he is so bent on setting them against each other. So who was it?

The show answers this a few episodes before this scene, in the Book Two episode, "Zuko Alone." The answer is clear and heartbreaking: It was Ursa.

The scene in which this becomes plain, starts with Zuko and Ursa walking together. Mai spots them and smiles and blushes. Azula notices, and then turns to Ty Lee, and whispers, "Watch this!"

AZULA: Mom, can you make Zuko play with us? We need equal teams to play a game!

ZUKO: I am not cart-wheeling.

AZULA: You won't have to. Cart-wheeling's not a game, dum-dum.

ZUKO: I don't care. I don't want to play with you!

AZULA: We are brother and sister. It's important for us to spend time together. Don't you think so, Mom?

URSA: Yes, darling, I think it's a good idea to play with your sister. Go on now, just for a little while.

And then Ursa leaves Zuko alone with Azula and her friends.

There is a lot here that I want to talk about. I have in fact talked about this scene before, and what it tells us about Ursa's eagerness to reinforce Azula's seemingly kind and loving behavior: [Link], and even touched on why this is in fact an example of bad parenting from Ursa: [Link], but I think this deserves its own post, where we examine exactly what went on here, what this tells us about Ursa's parenting, and how this affected Zuko, and to a lesser extent, Azula.

In those previously linked posts, I talk about how this is clearly a pattern, that Azula has learned to predict and manipulate, and because we know it's a pattern, we know that this behavior on Ursa's part is repeated, and something her children have come to expect from her. Zuko and Azula know their mother wants her children to get along with each other, and love each other and have a good sibling relationship with each other so much that if Azula she plays into that, Ursa will force Zuko to spend time with his sister, and worse, that time will be unsupervised.

So, to be clear here, what Ursa is doing is giving Azula unsupervised access to her brother, against his will, as a reward for Azula momentarily acting nice. Or in other words, Ursa forces Zuko to spend time with his abuser against his will because she wants them to get along.

I think we can all see how that is some grade A terrible parenting.

And it does have negative effects on Azula. I think that we can see her learning how to manipulate people, learning how to lie and get what she wants from people, and that Ursa by giving her what she wants here, is showing her that this is a thing she can do to get what she wants. That is not a great lesson to teach your kid. I think it also feeds into Azula's possessiveness of her brother, and sense of entitlement towards him. She has learned that even the people who love and care about her brother, won't protect him from her. And she has learned that no matter what she does to him, he is supposed to try to get along with her.

These are some really terrible lessons, and we see some of the effects of them throughout the course of the show, so why is it that the "Ursa is a terrible mother" crowd never bring this up? I mean of course we know why, it doesn't fit their narrative. Their premise is not simply that Ursa is a bad mother, or even that her bad parenting explains Azula's behavior.

In fact frequently it isn't even about finding someone to blame for Azula's behavior, so that the responsibility isn't Azula's. (Which, to be clear is not how it would work anyway, because even if Ursa were exactly the type of horrible mother they said she was, Azula was still making the choices to do Very Bad Things, in the same way that just because Ozai is an abusive father, this doesn't mean Azula stopped being responsible for her own actions). It's more about proving that she has suffered enough that she deserves all the sympathy, and is allowed to be awful to other people, including Zuko, you know, as a treat.

The narrative that the "Ursa is a terrible mother" crowd are pushing is that Ursa didn't love her daughter, and thought she was a monster, Azula suffered so much, and it's so sad, and this is why she deserves to do very nasty things to everybody else, and no one should ever hold her accountable. Frequently there is some flavor of, "Zuko had a mother who loved him, you guys, unlike Azula, so he doesn't deserve sympathy, not like poor baby Azula!" Which is a deeply warped thought process on many many levels, but we're not going to go into that here.

The point is, that this type of bad parenting that I am pointing out here, doesn't fit this narrative, because this is not the kind of parenting mistake that a mother who doesn't love one of her children, and thinks that child is a monster, is going to make. This is the kind of mistake that a mother who loves her children very much, and wants them to have a good relationship, and doesn't recognize the threat that one of her children poses to the other, is going to make. In fact, the fact that she does it, proves that Ursa does in fact love her daughter and does not think she's a monster. So it does not fit the narrative these people are spinning, so they will never bring it up as an example of how Ursa was a bad mom.

Of course the other reason the "Ursa is a terrible mother" crowd aren't going to bring this part up is because it would mean acknowledging that Zuko deserved to be protected from Azula, and needed to be protected from Azula, when they were both children, which would go against the whole "she's a poor innocent child" thing they like to spin, and also because Azula is getting what she wants here, and Zuko is the one suffering, which is not going to get Azula any sympathy points.

And for the most part, Ursa was an excellent mother, who did the best job she could in horrible circumstances that she had very little control over, but she wasn't perfect, and she did make mistakes, which makes all of this a wonderful example of how even very good parents can make very bad choices that hurt their children and cause serious long-term damage.

I've talked some about the long term damage that Azula faces from this, learning about manipulation, and developing some really nasty entitlement issues with regards to her brother, but Zuko's long-term damage is if anything worse.

When we put this together with Zuko's line from "Bitter Work" quoted earlier, we can see that Zuko learns what Azula learns from the other angle, which is to say that he will not be protected from Azula by anyone, and not only will he not be protected, but he does not deserve to protect himself. Not only can he not defend himself, but he can't even protect himself by avoiding her. That's not allowed either. And in the face of her cruelty and violence towards him, it is still on him to make their relationship work, and to be clear, he should absolutely be making their relationship work. And the adults who love him are going to tell him this, no matter what Azula does to him.

I for one am really glad that Iroh is there to say no, that's a terrible idea, and you do not need to keep trying to get along with your sister who is trying to kill you. And it's significant that throughout Book Two, Iroh consistently protects Zuko from Azula, and teaches him what he needs to fight back.

#Atla Ursa #Uncle Iroh #Zuko #Azula #avatar the last airbender #posts i created #azula needs her own warning #i ship iroh/tea #zuko is a dweeby little turtleduck #mother bear ursa

[seeingivy]

all too well

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: ladies and gentleman, we are so back. the french is google translated, to the french speakers, I apologize (@cutiejg I am looking at you)

content: BIG OUCHIES

songs mentioned: little freak by harry styles, not mentioned explicitly but all too well by taylor swift (the name of the chapter)!

previous part linked here

--

You knock hard on the door, knuckles pounding wearily on the wood, as you push into the room to find Hange and Levi, hunched over their desk. They’re pouring over the storyboards with the script up at their side, talking in hushed tones. 

Levi, as always, looks up first and sets his pencil down as he beckons for you to come in. You awkwardly amble up to their desk, as Hange pulls up a chair in between the two of them, and you settle into the space. You can smell both of their distinctive smells in the air - Levi’s freshly brewed tea and the smell of Hange’s inky ballpoint pens. 

“Hey kid. What can we do you for?” Hange asks, resting a hand in your hair to ruffle your locks. It’s well past three in the morning, the frigid December air raising the goosebumps on your arm with Eren’s hoodie doing little to help your chills. 

You’re not sure why, but that soft, soothing tone that Hange always sports when they talk to you has the tears violently rushing to your eyes, the warm wetness spreading across your cheeks. Both of their demeanours suddenly change - Levi’s suddenly increasingly attentive, a hand on your shoulder, while Hange coos into your ears - that aching pain in your chest pulsating. 

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” Hange asks, eyebrows knit in concern. 

You try to subside your hiccuped breaths, wiping the wetness on your cheek onto the back of your hand, as you open your swollen eyes, your line of vision obscured. 

“I-It’s kind of complic-cated.” you respond, frowning at the two of them. 

“Did Eren do something?” Levi asks, voice stern. 

Hange smacks his shoulder, rolling their eyes, as you can’t help but laugh. At Levi, for suggesting it. And at Hange, for defending Eren. 

“No. No, he’s great.”

Levi narrows his eyes, giving you his most soul piercing stare. 

“Are you sure?”

You laugh, not missing the way Levi’s lips slowly turn upwards, the makings of a smile on his face as his shoulders relax. 

“Yes, Levi. I’m sure. It’s Eren.” 

“Well. What’s got you so worked up then, kid?” he asks again, squeezing your shoulder. 

You look down at your hands, knitting your fingers together, as you fumble through the words. Through that bubbling pit of emotion, sitting in your throat, that’s been bothering you for the past few days. That you’re going to be leaving the set for three years and they won’t be at your side, lifting you up for what you’re going to do next. 

That without them, you’re going to fail. Horrendously. 

“I’m really scared to do this all without you guys. And I really, really don’t want to fail you both, but I think that I’m going to because I don’t know how to do this alone.” you mumble. 

“Huh?” Hange asks. 

“I just mean. You and Levi have gotten me this far. Holding my hand at every turn, coaxing me into things when anyone else would have pushed me. Or kicked me out for not having the guts. You put me with Eren when you know he’d support me. And it-I feel like I’m going to flop out the second I leave.” 

You watch Levi pinch his lips into a straight line, his gray eyes glaring into yours. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you guys. And I am so thankful for it, I-I want to make you guys so proud. But I just…I feel like I’m going to fail the second I try something on my own. That there’s this big, looming anticipation around me and it’ll amount to nothing.” 

You swallow hard, darting your eyes between the two of them, not missing the shared look they give each other, before Levi breaks the silence. 

“You’re really stupid kid, you know that?” 

You frown, glaring at him. 

“Leave it to you to invalidate my feelings.” you grumble, crossing your arms on your chest, making it a point to avoid even looking at him. 

“I’m not invalidating your feelings, just invalidating the fact that you quite literally give yourself no credit. That you have zero faith in yourself.” 

“Great. Thanks, Levi.” you deadpan. 

“He means…anything you’ve done is of your own merit. Don’t put everything you’ve done on us.” Hange states. 

You swallow hard, shaking your head. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, your support helps me, pushes me forward. I can’t imagine being able to do anything without it.” you murmur. 

“You know we aren’t going anywhere, right?” Levi states. 

“I know that. But it won’t be the same.” 

“First and foremost, you don’t need anyone to do great things. You’re plenty great on your own. And second, it may not be us who's the closest to you, but there will be plenty of people in your arsenal, backing you up. Unfortunately for you, I don’t think Eren could leave you alone even if he tried.” 

You laugh through the snot, lightly shoving Levi and Hange’s laughs vertebrate in your ears. 

“Okay. Just, if I flop out, you can’t be mad at me, okay?” 

“We’d never be mad at you kid. You mean the world to us.” Hange states, wrapping their arms around you as Levi follows suit. 

And when you look over your shoulder, you see the framed picture on Levi’s side of the desk and know, in earnest, that it’s true. That in some way, Levi and Hange will always be at your side, always your fiercest defenders. 

And that at his core, Levi Ackerman is a sap. For having a framed picture of you and Hange, front and center on his desk. There’s a rapid knocking on the door, followed by a very sleepy Eren standing on the door. 

“There you are. I was looking everywhere for you.” 

You wipe the last of the wetness off your face as he shuffles up, locking his hands around your neck and resting his chin right on top of your head. He leans down and presses a light kiss at the top of your hairline, as he starts groaning. 

“S’cold. What are you doing down here? And with my jacket, mind you.” he murmurs, mid-yawn. 

You sniffle, which has Eren securing his hands around your cheeks and angling your face up so he can look at you. And at the sight of your blotchy skin and red eyes, his eyes immediately wash over with concern, his thumbs rubbing into your skin. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

You give him a halfhearted smile, which he returns. 

“Nothing, I just wanted to talk to Levi and Hange.” you respond, standing up as Eren tucks you into the side of his arm. 

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow and go back to bed now. It’s really late. You should sleep.” he murmurs, as you give him an affirmative nod. 

“To bed. In your own beds, mind you.” Levi states, giving the two of you a weary eye. 

Eren’s eyes go wide, a sheepish laugh falling out of both of your mouths as Levi rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, totally. Totally in my own bed. Because obviously, there is no one in my bed. Except for me! Well, not right now but you know what I mean.” you mumble, getting a laugh from Hange. 

You and Eren sneak out of the room, hand in hand, as you giggle while sneaking up the steps. He squeezes your hand three times as he pushes you into his room, tangling under the sheets with you and burrowing you straight into his arms. 

“You’re really okay?” he murmurs against your hair. 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” you whisper, as Eren presses his lips against your forehead in response. 

“Okay, ma lune. Go to bed.” 

“Eh? Who taught you that?” you ask. 

“What? Was it wrong?” 

“No, no, it’s right. You’re trying to say my moon in French, right?” you ask, cheeks burning.

“Yeah. I asked Falco. Since you call me mon chérie, it’s only fitting that my nickname for you is French too.” 

“Mielleux.” you respond, tracing the side of his cheeks, right near his dimples as you laugh. 

“Huh? Don’t insult me in French, that’s cheating.” 

“That was an insult. I was calling you…intelligent.” 

“Right. And Connie’s six foot four.” he responds, sarcastically.

“I just called you cheesy. Quit whining and go to bed now.” 

His laugh, vertebrating in his chest, is the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter closed. 

You swallow hard, shaking the memory from your head before knocking on the door firmly, as that pulsating wave of anxiety bubbles in your chest. Because whoever answers that door, is going to bring an all consuming, complicated wave of emotions that you’ll have to resolve in all but twenty seconds before you have to talk to them. 

The door swings open, with Hange and Levi standing in the center of the doorframe, leaving you with a mess of anger, sadness, and dejection. 

“Hey kid.” Hange states, spreading their arms open as you melt into their arms. That faint smell of ink is lingering on their clothes, the dark marks smudged along the side of their hand indicating that they must have been stuck in that room with Levi, workshopping the script. 

“Hi Hange.” you respond, swallowing hard, as you turn to look at Levi. 

“Y/N.” he states, voice devoid of any emotion. But you can tell from that unshakable burning in his eyes, that something is rumbling in Levi’s chest, similar to your own. 

“Levi.” 

The three of you quietly walk to the kitchen, that awkward tension hanging thick in the air as Hange and Levi start rummaging through the cabinets and you lean against the counter. You take a second to stare at the polaroids, a mix of familiar faces and ones you’ve never seen at all pressed to the fridge. But the one that catches your eye the most is of Falco, smiling brightly at a girl, with short, brown hair. 

Hange walks up to your side, holding the bowl of food up in front of you, as you shoot them a thankful smile. 

“Whose that?” you ask, pointing to the picture. 

“Oh, that’s Gabi. She’s one of the new cast members.” 

“I’m taking it she’s good friends with Falco.” you state, smiling at Hange. 

“Oh, the best.” Hange states, giving you a knowing smile. 

You settle into the chairs across from the two of them, your brain buzzing from being here, in this kitchen with them again. At being in this house again, so vastly changed from the last time you were here. 

The last time you stood in this kitchen, you and Eren were giving each other teary goodbyes, everyone holding each other for too long. And now you’re here, sitting alone in the kitchen with Hange and Levi, with everyone nowhere to be found. Least of all Eren. 

Levi’s characteristically silent, focused on steeping his tea bag in the water and avoiding any sense of eye contact or communication with you. Which you were expecting, since Levi was always one to hold a grudge. 

“How are you, Levi?” 

“Okay.” 

The response to others would be seemingly nothing but it stings violently in your chest. Because it isn’t uncharacteristic for Levi to be withholding information, especially personal in nature, but it is uncharacteristic for Levi to be that way with you. And perhaps you were increasingly harsh the last time that you talked to him, but surely you’ve both moved past that. Because it was months ago and at this point, there is nothing you can do about it. 

“Are you still mad at me, Levi?” you ask. 

“Are you still mad at me?” he utters back, the tone biting. 

You sigh. Straight into the thick of it. Levi was always straightforward like that. 

“I mean, I still stand by what I said but that doesn’t mean I’m ma-” 

“Great. So when everything goes to shit, you’re going to hold it over my head and blame me for it, right?” 

You swallow hard, taken aback completely by how aggressive he comes off, straight off the bat. Levi had always been this way and you’d seen it firsthand, from how strict he was on Eren when it came to acting when you were younger. And every time you told Eren to be stronger, look past it, because Levi was doing it out of a place of love. 

But from the way he’s angrily scorning you right now, over a decision he betrayed you by making, one thing is evidently clear to you. That Levi’s not acting out of love. 

You swallow hard, pushing that disgusting acidic feeling in your throat, as you give Hange a look before talking. 

“Okay, Levi. I never said that-” 

“The second Falco’s feelings get hurt, by god knows what, you’re going to come to me and say that it was my fault. My fault because I was the one who casted him in the show.” 

“Well, that would be true. I explicitly asked you to remove them from the show after I found out you gave him the part. So if something happens to them, it is going to be your fault. Because you didn’t listen. You’re the reason they’re here.” you murmur. 

Levi groans, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as Hange moves to his side, a firm hand and a pleading voice urging him to calm down. 

“Is that what you’re trying to say? Are you trying to blame me for everything that happened?” Levi asks. 

“I didn’t even say that. I just meant-” 

“Isn’t that what you said though? You said by casting Falco, any hurt feelings he has from any backlash he could hypothetically get is going to be my fault. It’s going to be my fault because I cast him. And it’s fairly obvious you’re having some pent up feelings, because-” 

You swallow hard, the tears burning your eyes and your chest aching. 

“This isn’t about me. You know how hard I’ve fought to protect both of them from all of this. And you’re just going to forsake all of that, everything I’ve tried to shield them from, because you want them here for god knows whatever reason?” 

“They’re here because they want to be here. They saw the casting call and auditioned together. As the person who is making this show, I had to pick the people who were best for the part. That was the same thing I did for you. And everyone else.” 

“Oh, shut up, Levi. I know that you weren’t the final say in who picked me, it was Eren.” 

“I was the one who put you in the top three. I knew you could be great at this. The same way I know that Falco and Colt can be great at it too.” 

“I don’t give a fuck if they can be great at it, I’m sure they’re phenomenal. But they can’t handle the rest of it. And I’ve tried so hard, I already dragged them into all of this by literally being related to them, but the fact that you’re holding their hand and walking them right into this lion's cage, knowing damn well what’s waiting for them, is what’s making me mad.” 

You see Levi’s eyes twinge for a second, before he scoffs and stirs his spoon in his tea. And the sound of the metal hitting the porcelain is enough to aggravate you even more. 

“Nothing that happened to them is your fault. And trust me, they know exactly what they’re getting into when they come here.” Levi responds, sighing. 

“Right. Because throwing that brick through my window totally would have happened regardless of the fact that I’m famous. That was my fault, plain and clear. And they can think they know what they’re getting into, but I can promise you for a fact. Falco isn’t strong enough to do this.” 

You hear something drop behind you, only to find Falco and Colt standing there. Falco’s bright eyes are filled with tears, swiftly falling down his cheeks, as he runs off and Colt calls for him.  

“I-I’m going to talk to him.” Colt responds, sighing heavily, as he shuffles away. 

You turn back to Levi, glaring at him. 

“Are you trying to punish me, Levi? Is that what this is?” 

“What?” 

“You’re trying to make me feel shitty. For not talking to you for so long, for-for pulling away. You’re trying to make me fucking regret it.” 

Levi glares, walking up close to you, as he flares his nostrils. 

“Are you trying to punish me?” 

“Levi-” 

“Surely, you must be. You really think that I would do anything, for even one second, to hurt you? That I find joy in hurting you even more when letting everything happen is one of my biggest regrets? 

You swallow hard, taken aback by Levi’s admission. You reach forward, to place your hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away from your touch entirely, the frown on his face fixed. 

“You clearly know nothing about me, Y/N. Nothing.” Levi states, angrily storming out of the room. 

Your tears are burning, wet and hot and neverending as you bring the heels of your hands up to your eyes. You’d entirely forgotten Hange was there, until their hand comes up around your shoulder and squeezes hard. 

And it makes you cry. That Hange’s here to comfort you. That the one person who you’ve looked u pto you, maybe the only reason you’re even standing here, is the one who sees you at your worst. And holds you anyways. 

The realization hits you in full flesh. And it’s cruel. 

That filming this season is going to be entirely different than any of the last. 

--

The feeling isn’t like any other. 

That deep seated pit of rage, of jealousy, of hurt that Eren can only associate with Zeke. And while he’s able to push it down, swallow it down when he’s ready for it, the one place he can’t do it is here. Because watching Connie prank Zeke in between takes, seeing him get along with Levi and Hange, there’s some part of it that taints the entire premise of things together. 

Eren pushes down the piano keys, his fingers nearly shaking from the anger, until he feels it. Warm hands looping around his side, accompanied by that flowery smell and your head falling onto his shoulder. Your right hand is on the keys, brushing past both of his as he sighs. 

“Hi Eren.”

“Hey.” 

Eren can feel your prying eyes, big and wide watching him. And Eren knows that you can see it all over his face - the anger sitting in his jaw, his flushed cheeks - and it embarasses him even more. That you’re here with him, when all he can do is feel rotten. 

“Are you writing a song?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Tell me your writing process. I’ve never written a song before.” 

Eren turns to you, giving you a pointed look, because he knows all too well what you’re doing. His own parents have used this tactic on him a hundred times, when he’s panting and heaving from crying so hard. He figures that they think the distraction is helpful, that it’ll subside the wave of emotions in his chest. But sometimes it feels to big, too vast - like an ocean wave he has no capabilities of taming. 

“I know that can be kind of a personal thing to ask. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to know.” you murmur. 

Eren looks over, only to find your eyes cast downward towards the piano and the slightest flush of pink creeping up your neck. 

You’re embarrassed. Embarrassed for asking him something personal, for crossing a line you feel you shouldn’t have. 

Eren immediately takes his book off of the stand - filled with his ramblings, lyrics, and everything in between - and places it right in your eager hands. And Eren can’t help but feel a warm, simmering in his chest when your downtrodden look is replaced with a bright smile and your hand squeezing his.

Three times. 

There’s something entirely bare about doing this with you, like he’s giving you the key and letting you walk right inside of his mind. But he does it regardless, watches your eyes scan over the pages, your fingers running over the marks he’s indented into the paper. 

“What song were you just playing?” you murmur, flipping through the little leaflets. You eye the little pictures taped into the pages - one of you next to the words Sweet Creature - that you tuck away to pry about later. 

“Ah. This one.” 

Eren braces his hands against the piano, the light piano tune filling the air. 

I was thinkin' about who you are Your delicate point of view, I Was thinkin' about you I'm not worried about where you are Or who you will go home to, I'm Just thinkin' about you

Eren stops himself short, that block in his throat itching, only to turn to his side and find you smiling at him, his little book of thoughts tucked into your arms, right against your beating heart. 

“Eren. You’re a really good singer.” you murmur. 

He can feel his own skin flushing, as he brings his hand up to his neck and nervously scratches. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

“Do you mind me asking what the song is about?” 

“I know you know, Y/N.” he responds, leaning his face closer to yours. 

He feels you set the book down, returning it back to the stand, and watches you lace your arm through his. You’re holding him close to you as you nestle your cheek into his skin, running your hands over each of his knuckles. 

When Eren looks over, he can’t help but smile to himself. There’s something about it, this tiny frown that you sport, that Eren sincerely adores. Eren can’t help but want to touch your skin then and there, to smooth those little creases away with his fingers until you smile again. 

And naturally, it’s very irritating for Eren that you still look pretty when you frown. And when you smile. And every other expression in between. 

“I know. But you should still tell me anyway.” you murmur. 

“I’m okay, Y/N.” 

“Eren.” you whine. 

“I know you know. And it’s okay…it’s complicated.” he sighs. 

Eren doesn’t know how to explain the vastness of it to you. That Eren can simultaneously be mad at his brother but want nothing more to be around him. That he can hate him for what he did, for pulling away, when Eren had no intentions of leaving him alone. That he never wants to see him again, that his presence is aggravating in itself. 

“You…you promise it’s okay? That you don’t want to talk about it because-” 

Eren leans forward, his eyes burning as he looks into yours, your lips a few feet away from one another. 

“You’ve got me, right?” 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve got me, if I need you?” 

“Of course, I do.” you respond, not even a beat in between your words. 

“Good. Then, I’m okay.” 

Eren gives you a warm smile, one that leaves you in a fit of your own confusion, as he braces his hands against the piano again, playing the light tune into the air. And when you walk away, giving him one last squeeze on the shoulder, before leaving him alone on set once again, Eren scribbles his last thought into the book before walking away. 

That he thinks he loves you. 

Eren’s shaken out of his own memory, leaving it in his graveyard of other haunting memories, as he hears the pitter pattering of footsteps behind him. He looks up to find Gabi and Falco, sitting together on the floor, knees to his chest. 

Eren can immediately clock that Falco has been crying. And Eren realizes immediately that Gabi ran to his defense. It almost feels like the two of them are mocking him, though watching them interact even in the slightest had Eren feeling that .. 

Gabi, the horrifying menace that he is, is possibly one of Eren’s favorite people ever. Not only is she determined, bold, and stubbornly loyal, but she is quite possibly the only person who could be considered a bigger fan of you than Eren was. 

Which was saying something.

“Falco. It’s okay. You-you didn’t hear the entire conversation.” Gabi coaxes, a soft frown on her face. 

Eren’s well aware that he sees himself and you a little bit too much in Gabi and Falco, but the fact that Gabi quite literally sports the same frown that you do is enough to give him a chill. And annoy him even more. Even if he tries to forget, Eren has no choice but to remember. 

He supposes some part of it is romantic, almost. That no matter how far you are, Eren can see you everywhere. That opening the fridge reminds him of the time the two of you danced in the kitchen, that driving reminds him of all the times he had to commandeer that shitty bike with you, that the moon rises into the sky and that it makes the tattoo on his skin burn. 

“I heard enough. She doesn’t even believe in me. Not even in the slightest.” 

“Falco. You’re amazing. And she knows that. Maybe you should talk to her about-” 

“I get that she’s hurt from everything that happened. But does that give her any right to be mean to me? To think I can’t do this because-” 

Eren walks up, sitting criss crossed on the floor across from the two of them. Falco gives him a halfhearted smile, infinitely better than any interaction he’s had with Colt in the entire three weeks they’ve been here, as Eren hikes his knees to his chest. 

“Hey Falco, Gabi.” 

“Hi Eren.” he sniffles, Gabi’s hand still firm on his shoulder. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” 

“Not really.” he grumbles. 

“Shame. You know, I can be quite wise sometimes.” 

“Yeah. He’s got hobo wisdom.” Gabi adds, eliciting a laugh from Falco. 

Eren reaches forward to flick Gabi on the forehead, which she immediately swats off. A rather affectionate term Gabi had coined, for the rather unfortunate makeover that Levi had given him for the Marley arc. 

Eren’s half convinced Levi made everyone look better and him worse as his final act of vengeance on your behalf. Because even Eren’s not stupid and is well aware that Levi will be enacting some mildly annoying revenge on him for the rest of his life, for hurting you for even a second. Which he can take. Because he deserves it. 

“I had a fight with Y/N.” 

Eren swallows hard, throat dry at the fact that the person they were talking about was you. Meaning, you were back, only a few feet away from where he was sitting right now. 

“Falco’s misinterpreting it, I think.” 

“Leave it to you to side with my sister, Gabi.” 

“Hey. I’m just trying to play devil's advocate. You need that sometimes.” 

Sometimes being the devil's advocate is being on your side. 

Eren shakes your voice from his head, as he focuses back on the two of them. 

“Y/N doesn’t want me to be here. She had a fight with Levi when she found out he picked me and Colt after we auditioned. She thinks it's the ultimate punishment that I’m here, that she has to share this with me.” 

Eren swallows hard. And immediately back tracks on your behalf, because if Eren knows one thing about you, it’s that fighting with Falco must be tearing you up in more ways than one. That being here alone is hard enough for you, but your one source of comfort being ripped couldn't be helpful either. 

Eren’s also positive that Levi is smoldering somewhere. That his great plan is backfiring. Because Levi did cast Falco and Colt because they were the best audition, but he also cast them because he knew having them here would make it infinitely easier for you. 

Or so he thought. 

“Your sister doesn’t want you to be here. But it’s not for some selfish reason or because she doesn’t believe in you. Trust me, your sister is your biggest supporter.” Eren states

“Yeah, Falco. You know that she loves you.” Gabi adds, giving him a weak smile as she laces their hands together. 

Eren wonders if Gabi squeezes Falco’s hand. If she squeezes three times, because saying I love you, the thought of sharing that is so suffocating that she has to do it that way. 

“The only reason she doesn’t want you here is because she doesn’t want you to suffer. She-she loves you how you are. Excited, energetic, you-you’re very lively, Falco. Some people see that and they…they want to stamp that out of you.” Eren says, voice burning in his chest as he talks. 

“Your sister just wants you to stay you. And you, quite possibly, are the only thing she can’t afford to lose. You mean too much to her.” he adds. 

“That’s not true. She felt that way about you too.” Falco adds. 

Falco’s eyes immediately go wide, cheeks pink, as he reaches forward and places a hand on his knee. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that in an insulting way, I meant that as-” 

Eren smiles. At times, Eren feels almost like the entire time he had spent with you wasn’t real. It’s so far off in his mind, the situation so convoluted and messy now that at times it feels like it’s all a figment of his imagination. But the small reminders - a fan account, Falco’s admissions - they’re enough to remind Eren. 

That he’s not crazy. That you loved him and he loved you. 

It’s a double edged sword. He’s not sure if it’s worse to know he loved you and lost you or to have it feel like your love was never real at all. 

He supposes he’ll have his answer when he inevitably sees you, in the flesh again. Not stricken by grief, somewhat in full feeling again. 

“I know what you meant, Falco. Do you know what I meant?” 

Falco sighs. 

“I…I want to. But she literally said, Falco isn’t strong enough for this. She thinks I’m weak.” 

“Or…she’s been through it herself. And she knows that people will push you, past your breaking points and expect you to keep going. It’s not about whether or not you’re talented, it’s…it’s almost that you’re too talented. She knows people will love you. That they’ll watch you and see you as something like that.” 

The pit of it is burning in his stomach. The information that he’s sitting on, that he could share with Falco right now. But he knows that it’s not the right time. That it would require him to throw Lana under the bus, that he isn’t even ready to say everything all together, that he’ll tell you, and Falco and Armin when the time is right. 

“But she knows that this is something that’s hard to stomach. And it’s less that she thinks you’re not strong enough to handle it, it’s that she doesn’t want you to have be.” Eren states. 

“Good shit, Eren.” Gabi states, giving him a wide smile. Falco laughs at her brashness, the smallest makings of a smile on Falco’s face. 

Falco’s ruminating over his words this time, some semblance of them sticking, as he gives him a sigh and a halfhearted smile before standing up.

“How about we go eat something, Falco? You can think about everything Eren said. Everything I said and we….we can just take a walk after.” 

If you and Eren’s thing was biking and getting slushies, then Falco and Gabi’s was walking and talking. 

“Okay.” 

Eren watches the two of them walk off into the distance, the way their hands brush against each other as they amble towards the door, how they never link together, and swallows hard. 

At the fact that not only would his memories be constant reminders, but that Falco and Gabi are going to be a constant representation. 

Of what he had. And what he had to give up. 

--

You march down the hall, feet dragging you to your childhood bedroom, as the waves of the argument have subside in your chest. You can feel the skin around your eyes stinging, your cheeks swollen and pink, as you turn to the signs with Connie’s handwriting and groan. 

Jean and Mikasa (please fuck quietly)

Eren and Y/N (y’all are fucked up for this) 

You must have been too loud, because suddenly both doors are swinging open, Jean coming out of one and Connie out of the other. 

“Princess! You’re back!”

You pull back, resting your hands on both of his biceps as you squeeze. At Connie, less grief-stricken and pale, but more lively and loving. 

The way he used to be. 

“Hi Connie.” you respond, giving him a smile back. 

“I’d know that moaning groaning sound anywhere.” Connie states. 

“That sounds inappropriate, Connie.” Jean grumbles, giving you a smile. 

The two of them stand in front of you, towering over you, as they give you smiles. Which is when you realize that they both look drastically different. 

Connie’s hair is significantly balder. And Jean has a fucking mullet. 

“Oh my god. You have a mul-” 

“Before you say ANYTHING, he is very gorgeous to me.” Connie states, giving you an accusatory finger. 

“Con-” 

“I don’t care WHAT you say. He’s in the top three of my tentative glow-up ranking for this season.” 

“Nothing you just said was English. Like not even one sentence of it.” you state. 

“Have you read the script yet?” Jean asks, giving you a helpful smile. 

“No, they haven’t given me mine yet.” ‘

“Well, we’re doing a big time skip. And to sell the image - even though we’re literally not teenagers anymore - they’re all giving us different haircuts.” 

“I hope for Armin’s sake that he’s at the top of that list.” you murmur. 

You hear a set of footsteps behind you, only to find Mikasa and Sasha with bags hanging from both of their arms, the pair of them panting and heaving. Jean’s quick to take Mikasa’s bags, which has Sasha berating Connie for not running to do the same. 

“Princess! Welcome back.” Sasha states, pressing a wet kiss to your cheeks as Connie - making his annoyance very clear - takes the bags from Sasha and sets them down in Mikasa’s room. 

“Thanks, Sash. I love your hair.” you state, giving her the warmest smile you can muster. 

“God. I am fucking starving. First of all, these stupid fucking dress shops give out the measliest little chocolates. Like, we’re there for six hours, the least they could do was give me the whole box. And every time I asked for seconds, Mikasa’s stupid maid of honor started giving me a whole lecture about it.” Sasha grumbles. 

You swallow hard. 

Mikasa’s maid of honor. 

You turn to your left, to find Jean with a rather awkward look on his face, as Mikasa’s eyes go wide. You try to shake off the discomfort, the annoying tears that are trying to pool in your eyes, as you turn to Sasha. 

At the fact that Mikasa found a replacement for you. 

You’re in the kitchen when Mikasa approaches you, the light glow on your cheeks making you smile so hard that it hurts. 

That Mikasa is engaged. The ring is glimmering on her finger, as you beckon for her to walk closer to you and you take her hand in yours. 

“I didn’t get a second to properly admire it with all those idiots around.” you murmur, her soft hands in yours. 

The ring is simple. A circular cut diamond with a gold band. And entirely Jean and Mikasa. You recall Jean harassing you at nearly turn leading up to the day, but seeing it here and now, on her hand instead of that stupid plastic mannequin, you can really see Jean’s vision. 

That it’s perfect for her. 

“It’s beautiful, Mikasa.” 

“I know you helped him. God knows he was probably having a panic attack at the store.” 

“Oh, he totally was. But he picked that one out on his own and fully stopped entertaining other ones when his eye caught that one. He said he knew it was the perfect one for you.” 

“Jean can be really cheesy.” Mikasa states, her cheeks dusted pink as she pushes down the pleats of her dress. 

“I think it’s really sweet. You’re made for each other.”

She smiles hard, her eyes watery again. 

“You really think so?” 

“Are you really asking me that after you already said yes, Mikasa?” 

“I mean, I’m sure of my decision. But your opinion, what you think means a lot to me. Especially if you’re going to be my maid of honor.” 

You drop the knife in your hand against your plate, eyes wide as you look at her. At the way the light is catching in her hair, at the smug smiley look on her face. 

“No fucking way.” 

“You can’t be serious. It was always going to be you…you’re like my person!” she states, wrapping her arms around you. You squeeze her tight in her arms, earning a groaning sound from her, as you feel the excitement course through you. 

“Mika. I would love to be your maid of honor.” 

“Well, good. Because there’s no one else who could do it. The only person I want being up there with me is you.” 

You realize now that the premise is world’s away. Which was a given. Mikasa had gone all the way and had an entire engagement party, meaning she needed someone to fill the role. And it wasn’t like she could exactly tell you, you barely even gave her the time of day when things were going down. 

“I’m hungry too. I’ll come down with you in a second, yeah?” 

She gives you an affirmative nod, as she skips down the hall and down the steps. You turn to Connie and eye your bags still in the hall. 

“Do you know who Colt is sharing a room with Connie?” 

“Galliard.” 

“Who?” 

“Ah, the Brit. He’s real funny, I think you’ll like him.” 

“Ah, okay. Well, I think I’ll ask him if he can share with Eren instead. And I-” 

“Y/N. You can still share with Mikasa.” Jean states, eyes wide. 

You swallow hard, the embarrassment coursing through you. 

“No, I-I insist. You guys should share. You-you are getting married and all! Wouldn’t want to rain on your parade and all that. And Colt’s my brother, I’ll be comfortable with him, so-” 

“I’ll help you move your bags.” Connie states, dragging your bags down the hall. 

You’re eternally grateful for Connie and him catching on fast enough. Jean follows in tow, giving Mikasa a look over his shoulder, as the two of you stand awkwardly in the hall. You turn to look at her. 

“You didn’t get a haircut?” you ask. 

“Ah. Um, Levi and Hange are actually letting me use a wig.” 

“That’s right. Jean always imagined you with your hair long at your wedding.” 

Mikasa smiles, so wide, that you swear there’s tears gathering in her eyes. 

“I didn’t realize he had told you that.” she murmurs. 

“Jean can’t help but talk about you. He mentioned it to me in passing once.” 

You both awkwardly swallow, as you rub your hands on your biceps. There’s a tension in the air between the two of you, one that you weren’t really expecting, that settles deep into your bones. 

“Well, Sash is probably waiting so I’ll-” 

“Yeah, yeah sure. No problem.” 

“It’s nice to see you again, Mika.” 

“You too.” she responds, as you swallow that salty feeling in your throat and pad down the stairs. 

--

Eren is interrupted by an incessant pounding on his door, only to find Armin standing there with an excited look on his face. 

“Hey. What’s up, ‘Min?” 

“Erwin gave me a really cool gift, do you want to see?” 

Eren nods, opening up the door, as Armin pads into the room. You and Mikasa are sprawled on Eren’s bedroom floor, the two of you typing away at something on Mikasa’s laptop, while Marco and Jean play a very intense game of go-fish. 

Armin gestures for everyone to join him on the floor, as everyone lazily turns their head towards them. He opens up the box, filled with stacks of polaroids, and sets the camera on top. 

“What is it?” you ask, as Armin excitedly runs his fingers across the pictures. 

“Erwin just gave it to me. He said that when he went to the SHWA, one of his favorite things to do was capture all the memories, so that he’d never forget them.” 

Eren digs his hand into the box, the first polaroid he pulls out being one of Levi and Hange, significantly younger. Hange’s excitedly pinching Levi’s cheeks, while he all but glares at her. 

“Woah. This one is of Levi and Hange.” 

“Is this before they were dating?” you ask, turning your eyes towards Eren. 

“Mhm. They’re way younger here, they only started dating after La La Land. 

Eren watches your eyes swell, as you run your fingers over the picture. 

“Wait, that’s so sweet. That they have all these pictures together, before they were even in love. Like..like they were always meant to be together.” 

Jean leans forward, flicking you on the forehead. 

“You’re a sap.” he states. 

“Says you, asshole.” you respond, glaring at him. 

Eren ignores the two of you, digging into the box with Armin as the two of them run their fingers over all the pictures. Of Satoru Gojo, holding a hand out over Levi’s head to mimic how short he is, Erwin and Nanami drinking tea on set, Shoko and Miche smoking a cigarette. 

“The first picture that Erwin ever took on the polaroid was this one.” Armin states, handing it to him. 

The picture is of him and Levi, the two of them sitting on the floor with their knees hiked to his chest. Unlike any of the other ones, Levi and Erwin are actually smiling, as opposed to their usual smoldering looks that they sport. 

“I want the first one I take to be of us, like this.” Armin states, giving him a bright smile. 

Eren excitedly nods, tapping on Mikasa’s shoulder, and breaking her out of the pictures she was looking at with Marco. 

“Mika.” 

“Hm?” 

“Can you take a picture of us like this?” he asks, handing her the picture. 

She smiles wide, reaching for the camera as she angles it perfectly and flashes the bright light in both of their faces. Armin and Eren laugh as they reach up, itching their aching eyes, before Mikasa holds both of the pictures out to them, side by side. 

“God. You’re like their little proteges.” Mikasa states, handing them the pictures. 

“Do you need help?” Eren asks. 

Armin turns his head, eyes wide and filled with a twinge of detachment that Eren absolutely despises. He’s been finnicking with his polaroid camera - the new one that Eren had bought him - for the past twenty minutes. 

“I have extra film if you need it. It’s a weird way to kind of load it in these cameras but-” Eren says, standing up to reach for the camera. 

“Well, I’d be able to do it if I still had my camera, wouldn’t I?” Armin seethes, glaring at him as he sets the camera down and angrily paces to the other side of the room. 

Eren swallows hard, the sting burning as he swallows hard. Eren prays that Hange and Levi show up any moment to give Armin his script, so that he can retreat to the room with the two of them for the rest of the day and finish writing the script with them. 

“I’m sorry.” Eren adds, for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Granted, Eren doesn’t think there’s a quantifiable number, a tangible amount of times he could say sorry that Armin would forgive him. And Eren, in earnest, can’t even blame him because he can barely forgive himself. 

For getting so carried away.

Eren lifts the camera, dislodging the film from the camera, before inserting it correctly. There’s a click as it slides into place and Eren gently puts the camera down, as Connie walks up to his side. 

“Hi Eren.” Connie states, giving him a very hard smack on the back. 

“Ow, Connie.” 

“My bad. It’s just my humongous fucking biceps, I can’t even cont-” 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, Connie. Pipe it down like the notches.” Eren states, shoving him off to the side. 

Connie settles into the couch next to Eren, as Eren can’t help but nervously shake his legs, from Armin’s pacing around the room. He’s picked up the camera from the table, fidgeting with it in its hands as he gets used to the new settings. 

No matter how much Eren tried, he couldn’t find the same brand of camera that Erwin had bought Armin all those years. Of course, Erwin had opted for something vintage and of course, something that Eren wouldn’t be able to replicate. Eren had opted for the next big thing, the camera models that Erwin had designed with the polaroid company, as a special. 

Because if he can’t have the exact camera Erwin gave him, he can still tie it to him in some way. And it in no way takes away what Eren did, but he hopes it rebuilds the tiniest of bridges between them.  

“I like the new camera, Armin.” Connie states, giving him a smile. 

Fuck. 

“It’s kind of shitty. It’s not really working.” Armin states, Eren’s skin burning at the seething look that Armin’s giving him. 

“Well, we’ll help you figure it ou-” 

“What’s your deal, Connie?” Armin asks. 

Connie’s taken aback, awkwardly laughing, as he lifts his hands up. 

“Huh? What ever do you mean, good sir?” Connie asks, mimicking Galliard’s stupid British accent, an increasingly irritating habit of his. 

“What kind of shitty game are you playing right now? Pretending like things are fine.” Armin asks. 

Connie sighs, Eren sensing the tiniest bit of frustrations in Connie’s shoulders. In the past few months, one of the only things that Connie had been looking forward to was coming back here. An opportunity for him to get back into his roots, to be around people who would support him, before he got back out there. 

Before they all did. In a way they never really had before. 

And it was increasingly frustrating and even debilitating for Connie to realize that things were different when he got here. Because Armin was still harboring his hatred for Eren, he found out that Mikasa had taken Y/N out of her wedding party, that Y/N was coming back later than everyone else, that really the past few years had caught up to everyone the way they had to him. 

Except he was the only one, besides maybe Eren, who was trying to go back for it. And it was increasingly frustrating for him, when no one met him where he was. 

“Look, Armin. I think we should all just cool down and talk about-” 

“Talk about what? About how you’re being naive as fuck right now?” Armin asks. 

“Forgiving isn’t naive. And there’s a lot that you don’t-” 

“How can you even stand Eren, in good faith? He’s the reason that you had to go to rehab, Connie. The reason that you had to stop acting, that you stopped talking to me and Sasha and Marco and-” 

“That wasn’t Eren’s fault.” Connie states, doing little to deflate the stupid welts of shame Eren was feeling. It’s one thing to have a shitty voice in your head telling you all the things you’ve done wrong. And it’s an entirely different one to have the entire world echo it back to you. 

But worst of all is realizing your best friend echoes the same thoughts, shares the same sentiments that are buried in the shittiest parts of your brain. 

“How was it not Eren’s fault? He decided to start working with horrible people, he was the one who decided to date Hyla and backstab Y/N and-” 

“Armin. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about so how about you just quit while you’re at it?” 

“I don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re the one who's forgetting everything that he did. All the shitty things he said-” 

“Is that what you’re going to play victim about? I can promise you, that measly little argument we had out there where he broke your camera is fucking childsplay to half of the shit that Eren and I saw when we were there. You’re lucky that you left the second you did because-” 

Armin shoves Connie into the wall behind him, which has Connie shoving him back. Levi, who has cosmically perfect timing, yanks Armin off while Eren grabs Connie, bracing his hands on his shoulders. 

“Connie. Quit it, man. You’re better than this, he doesn’t-” 

“What right does he have to say that to us, Eren? He doesn’t even know what it was like being there, with those people and-”

“I know, I know, man. Just, he doesn’t know. And he doesn’t mean it, he’s just hurt about-” Eren whispers, as Hange walks Armin out of the room and Levi joins them at their side. 

“Are you okay, Connie? Do you feel like you have to-” Levi asks, not daring to say the word. 

“No. No, I’ve been good for today, but I just-” 

“Okay, Connie. Let’s not talk about it. We should head to set anyways, they’re going to be filming soon. We can watch.” Eren states, his hand firm on Connie’s shoulder as the two of them trot out of the room. 

--

Sasha trots into your room on an odd Thursday night. You and Eren are nearly tangled up in the bed, his hand brushing through your hair as she gives you a meek look from the doorway. She has a rather meek look on her face, almost shy. 

“Hey, Y/N. Do you have a second?” 

You look up, Eren’s warm hand on your neck. And it’s the fact that she’s here and not wreaking havoc with Connie, with that awkward look on her face, that sets off the first alarms to you. 

“Yes. Eren, get out.” 

“Um. What happened to please? Please, oh sweet love of my life, sunshine boy of mine?” 

“Eren, love. Get out. I’m being serious.” you respond, giving him a narrowed look with your eyes. 

He catches on quickly, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and Sasha a squeeze on the shoulder as he pads out of your room. You tap the spot to your left where Eren was just sitting, as Sasha climbs onto the bed next to you. 

“Ew. His spot is all warm.” 

“Yeah. He’s like a human heater, sometimes I have to shift away from him while we’re sleeping because I literally start sweating.” 

Sasha lies down flat on the bed, eyes fixed on your ceiling, as you follow suit and cross your own hands across your chest. The silence hangs in the air between you, as you wait for her to break first. 

“Do you think I’m pretty, Y/N?” Sasha asks. 

“What? Of course, I think you’re pretty.” 

“I-I don’t mean in a friend way. Do you think guys think I’m pretty?” 

She turns over on her side, resting her face against her arm as she looks at you. You mimic her motions again, noting the welling of tears in her usually bright eyes, as your heart drops. 

At sweet Sasha, asking you something like this. 

“Sash.” 

“I was online earlier. And I-I guess I never noticed that everyone on the cast seems to be…coupled up. Or at least the girls are.” 

“That’s not true, Sasha. What about Historia?” 

“Yeah, but that’s different. Reiner had a crush on her. Ymir still does and-and people like her. Really like her. You can’t really say the same about me, can you?” 

You sigh. Because you know, deep down, that the thing she’s talking about is one you can’t relate too. And that anything you said could be a deeper salt in the wound. The two of you sit in silence, as you wrack your brain the hardest for the best thing to say, when Sasha tangles her fingers in with yours. 

“Thank you.” Sasha murmurs.

“Huh?” 

“I was kind of expecting you to do that whole…shitty you’ll find love someday thing. It’s nice to just have someone here sitting with me, letting me feel it.” she states. 

“You’re valid in how you feel. And I-I know I’m not the best person to come to about this but-” 

“No, but it’s nice. Just to have someone acknowledge it. Sometimes it’s so shitty when people just expect you to be so optimistic about love, expect it to come when you’ve been waiting forever and you just want someone to fucking hold you or something.” 

You open up your arms, which she rolls her eyes at, before smiling and tangling into your arms. It’s then that you see the picture of you and Levi taped on the wall and remember his letters, the one’s he gave you to write the song with for the vow renewal. And the idea springs to your mind. 

You dig the letter out, the one where Levi detailed how special Hange was to him, that she made him feel real and loveable and give it to Sasha for the night. And when she trots out of your room, you immediately head to Levi’s room and knock on his door to ask him for what might be your biggest favor yet. 

Naturally, he obliges. And takes Sasha out on a date, to make sure that her standards are set straight, whenever someone does come in her life. 

You try to fight the embarrassingly large smile on your face as you watch Sasha from a distance, with the tall haired blonde who you’re told is Nicolo. And you know you’re not reaching, because it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that something was going on there. 

Things were drastically different. But some of them are for the better. 

You hear a set of footsteps behind you, only to find Falco and Gabi, the girl from the polaroid, standing behind you. Falco has a rather awkward look on his face, surely from the fight not fight the two of you were having, while Gabi has her hands behind her back. 

You give the two of them a warm smile, and notice Falco visibly deflate, as you tap the floor in front of you. You’re only halfway through the script, not having reached the scenes they were filming today or even your appearance in the show. 

“I’m Y/N. Falco’s sister. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“I-I know who you are.” she states, her voice awkwardly rambling as her cheeks flush pink. 

“I know who you are too! Something we have in common.” you respond, giving her a smile. 

She reaches forward, shaking your extended hand, and you notice how clammy her hand is against yours. Or really, that her entire demeanor seems to be off. This seems less like the Gabi you had been hearing about, bold and confident on the set. 

“I have something…really weird to tell you.” she states, mumbling. 

“What’s up?” 

“Please don’t think this is weird or anything. But you’re a really big role model for me. And-and you always have been.” 

Oh. Oh. 

It’s at this moment that you realize what’s happening. And it’s only something you can recognize because you too used to be that awkward mess of feelings for Hange. Your heart warms in the biggest of senses, that she wasn’t in that group of people who hated you, at least you didn’t think she was from the way she was acting. 

“Gabi. It truly means the world to me that you say that.” you respond, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. 

“Really? I-I was so scared I was going to weird you out and you were going to hate me. I-I was most excited to see you when I got here, I’ve been listening to your songs since I was little and I feel like you’ve helped me through so much that I just-” 

“You haven’t weirded me out at all. This is very special to me, that you-you feel this way. I’m glad that anything I have done was able to reach you, even if it was in the smallest of ways.” 

She deflates, that awkward tension in her shoulders leaving and being replaced by tears wellington in your eyes. You’re not sure why but the entire reaction has tears welling in your eyes, as you open up your arms which she all but dives into. 

“Can I ask you for a weird favor?” Gabi asks, climbing out of your arms as she returns to her seat next to Falco. 

“Anything.” 

She pulls out the sleeve from behind her back and you try your best to swallow that disgusting, acidic venom in your throat. She hands you her copy of The Lucky One vinyl, the vinyls that were specifically distributed without your permissions. 

Vinyls that you didn’t even make a cent off of. That put millions of dollars into the pockets of the two people that you hated the most. 

“I have signed copies of all of your vinyls. Except for this one. I was wondering if yo-” 

“Sure. Do you have a pen?” you ask, fighting the discomfort in your skin. 

You open up the sleeve, ignoring the picture of all of you on the front, as you write. 

Gabi, 

I feel like I’m the Lucky One for getting to meet you. I can’t wait to see where you go from here. 

Love, 

Y/N 

You shut the vinyl quickly, handing it to her, and murmuring something about being hungry as you shuffle away to the snack table. You don’t miss her excited face, the way she excitedly grabs onto Falco’s shoulder, as she reads it to him. 

Levi rings the bell, calling for them to take their cues, as you settle into the chair. Colt, Gabi, Udo, and Zofia stand on their marks, as Zofia crawls under the rock placed there. You can see that she’s coated in set makeup, blood running down the side of her face, as Levi yells action. 

“Get up, Gabi! Udo!” Colt screams, picking up the two of them in their hands. 

There’s tons of extras running in the peripheral, the sound loud and jarring as they all scream. 

“Stand up! Hurry!” Colt says. 

Gabi turns her head, a quarter of the way, to where Zofia’s laying under the rock, and that’s when you realize it. 

That Zofia’s character just died. 

“Zofia?” Gabi states, her voice so painstakingly grating that it makes you flinch and your throat immediately dry. 

Udo runs to the side of the rock, bracing his hands on it, as he screams and you realize too quickly what’s about to happen. 

“Hurry, we have to lift this!” 

Except the extras march perfectly around Udo, just to knock him down, before they all mimic running over them. You quickly notice the makeup team run in as the camera focuses on the people running, and what you assume is going to be Eren’s titan, as they drench Udo in red dye, cacking it onto his porcelain skin. 

And when you hear it, it’s enough to make your stomach hurt, to have the contents in your just about ready to come up. 

It’s Gabi. Sweet, soft Gabi letting out an ear splitting scream, as Colt holds her close. The looks on both of their faces are so blank, so dead that it’s enough to sprout tears to your eyes, that quickly fall down your cheeks. 

Levi quickly calls cut, as Udo and Zofia stand up from their marks, and come out laughing. They’re both still caked in their red makeup, giving each other high fives, when all you can do is clutch your chest in pain, at that painstakingly painful feeling in your chest. 

And you’re not sure what exactly it is. That’s bringing this up for you. Until one of them says it, in passing. And you know they’re just kids, that they mean well, but it hits you so hard that the entire events of the day come crashing down in one second. 

“God, Udo. You’re messed up. This is a horribly fucked up version of the Lion King.” she states, placing her hands on her hips. 

“Shut up, Zofia. We both know that your death was way worse than mine. You basically suffocated to death under that lame ass rock.” 

Udo and Zofia remind you too much of Marco. Too much of filming that scene, all those years ago and being blind sided by it. By walking into the set thinking you were going to watch something normal, only to watch one of your best friends pretend to die. 

Only for him to really die years later. By suffocating to death, under the crush of the metal. 

Your cries are muffled by arms coming around you, quickly rushing you out into the cold air of the set as they continue to film inside. The embrace is warm, accompanied by soft words you can’t even barely hear, with the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. 

It’s all consuming. That’s the shitty thing about your grief. It’s buried deep into the pits of your heart and just when you think you’ve moved past it, when it’s standing behind you and you’ve grown past it, it hits you in full flesh when you least expect it. Leaving you debilitated, paralyzed. 

Alone. 

You only clock that it’s Eren from the smell. It’s clean and minty - a mix of his laundry and the deodorant he wears - as he only brings his arms around you harder, his voice finally coming into recognition in your ears. 

“Y/N. You’re okay. It’s okay, you-” 

You try to respond, only to let out a garbled sound. Eren pulls back slightly, the entire image of him, that overwhelming pounding in your chest and him catching you off guard. 

“I’ve got you. No one saw, we don’t need to go back and-

Eren’s hair is long. So long that it’s secured into a small bun in the back of his hair. And as always, his eyes are washed over in concern, his hands rubbing small circles into your skin as he all but stares you down. 

“Er-” 

“I know. You don’t have to say anything. It reminded me of him too.” 

“I just-” 

You come up short on words as Eren expectantly looks at you, waiting to hear what’s on your mind. And you can’t even fathom that feeling into words if you wanted to. 

“I don’t want to go back.” 

“Okay. Let’s take lunch.” he states, gesturing to you to walk towards the townhouse with him. 

You give Eren a meek nod, as the tears continue to pour from your eyes and that hollow feeling fills your chest. The two of you walk in silence, Eren not taking his hand off of your wrist as you pad back into the townhouse, completely deserted. 

Eren’s quick to move, shuffling around the kitchen, as you lean against the counter with your head in your hands. 

“Do you want me to get you anything? I’m making ramen but it’s still boiling.” he asks, setting a glass of water by your side. 

“No mushrooms, Eren.” you state, glaring. 

“I remember, Y/N.” he says, so softly that it stings. 

And a few minutes later, the two of you are sitting side by side at the table, with the steaming bowls of ramen in your hands. And the entire events of the say, each stinging thorn in your side, are the only reason you can fathom as to why you talk to Eren, of all people. 

“I feel like I’m trying really hard to be my old self again, Eren.” you state. 

You look over at him and he doesn’t respond, only giving you a nod, like he’s asking you to keep going. 

“I-I want to be how we all used to be. But it’s like that person I was, those feelings I had, they’re all buried somewhere deep in my head and I can’t find it. And I hate to think that she’s gone. That she has no place here anymore.” 

You move your chopsticks around in the bowl, through Eren’s perfectly diced vegetables and sigh. 

“Every person I look at, all I can do is remember everything. How it used to be.” you state. 

Eren looks to his left, at you staring at him with your big, tear filled eyes, and swallows hard. And thinks hard and deep, at everything that’s changed. 

He leans forward, crushing your hand in his own, and hopes that the message gets across to you. And when you lean your head against his shoulder, he’s positive that it does. 

Eren relishes in the one thing that seems to remain. You, sitting next to him. 

--

next part linked here

an: ALRIGHT BABY GIRLS. buckle in. the next chapter is called the new romantics! dare I say....the next chapter has the F word.........FLUFF WITH A CAPITAL F

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[auteurdelabre]

SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (SERIES) PART 14

Word Count: 11.6

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions)

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD. SMUT AHEAD. PLEASE BE 18+ READING THIS. Wanna read the rest? Pinned post on my account has my masterlist!

============

Joel and Tess are in his bedroom, but nothing scintillating is about to occur. If anything the mood is sober. Sarah has been asleep for hours, Daniel is at his dads and Tess is sitting at the edge of his bed watching Joel put away his laundry, wondering why he asked her over if he isn’t going to touch her.

Joel can feel Tess' eyes on the back on his head as he pushes the shirts in the drawer aside. He's convinced he's missing one. But he knows that this is a distraction because he’s nervous, panicking about how to start this conversation.  Tess watches him dig around in his drawer for several more minutes before snapping.

“Joel what’s going on? Why am I here?”

Joel’s shoulders meet his ears for a second before he turns, looking at Tess with a look that is all too familiar. A look her husband wore when he told her he wanted to end their eight year marriage. The look men wear when they are about to break her heart.

"I thinkin' we should ease up a bit, Tess," Joel finally says his voice a low rumble. She immediately stills.

“I don't understand," Tess says, her face showing her growing panic. She stands, moving towards him. "Did I do something?”

"No," Joel assures her, shaking his head and stepping out of her reach. "Nothing like that. Nothing to do with you. I just . . . I think I thought I was ready for something and I don't know that I was. And that's not fair to you."

She comes to sit next to him on the bed, her hand falling to his knee as she gazes at him. 

“What are you trying to say?”

"Maybe we take a break?" Joel answers honestly. "I'm worried Sarah's gonna get confused."

"Sarah never sees me outside of play dates, Joel. Don't try to use your daughter as an excuse."

Tess' arms are crossed over her chest, her defences up. She's completely correct. 

"Tess I'm sorry," Joel says, his large brown eyes reflecting the guilt he feels. "It's just too much too fast and I. . . I'm not all in."

He expects Tess to swear at him, to stalk from the room. He expects a slap, a shout that he’s a bastard. Instead she turns her eyes on him and she’s smiling at him like he’s some sweet, naïve thing. 

"Joel, you’re just scared. It's totally normal to feel like that. It's a big leap and we both have kids but I think you're worth it."

Tess frowns at Joel's muted response to that. She'd expected a smile or even a gentle agreement. Instead Joel looks down at his hands. 

Tess feels her stomach sour at this. She'd thought that she and Joel were in a good spot. Yeah, things had moved a bit quickly at her insistence but that's only because she could see how easily they fit together. They were well matched in disposition and looks. Both had demanding jobs they found satisfying, both had tight knit families,  

So then why is he trying to spoil everything now?

"I thought we were good," Tess says tentatively. 

"We were- are," Joel self corrects. "It's not that I don't enjoy your company, or that I don't like you. You’re an amazing woman, I really mean it. Its . . .  I don't feel right about it, Tess and I think I need a bit of time."

Tess is worrying her lower lip between her teeth, her face thoughtful. She slides closer to Joel on the bed. He notices her thigh pressed tightly against his. She tilts forward, her chest heavy against his arm. 

“Joel, whatever it is-“

“I kissed someone,” Joel confesses, his cheeks burning.

Tess feels her eyes blow wide at this. She doesn’t need to ask.

You.

Of course it was you. The niggle in the back of her head. The voice that always told her you were too close to the family she wants for herself. She doesn’t bother asking, doesn’t want to hear the confirmation.

“Is it going to happen again?”

Joel thinks of your mouth and hears your cries of his name as you crested on his thigh. But also thinks of how you’d pushed from him and Paul’s kiss to your cheek and how happy Paul makes you and Joel shakes his head.

“No. It’s not.”

///

You haven’t spoken to Joel for four days. Four impossibly long days. Four days of replaying him guiding you to arch along his thigh, four days of recalling the warmth of his mouth, four days of waiting for Paul to leave the apartment so you can touch yourself groaning out Joel’s name until you’re hoarse.

And four days of insurmountable guilt.

I need to tell Paul.

I can’t.

Telling Paul will hurt him.

No point because it’s not going to happen again. You telling him just makes you feel better but it’ll make Paul feel worse.

Nothing else is gonna happen with Joel.

Nothing else can happen with Joel.

What else could happen with Joel?

Could it happen in his bed?

Stop it.

The phone rings and Joel’s name pops up like a demon come to life. Fuck even his name looks sexy to you right now. Joel Miller. Milllllller. The l’s trace your tongue along the edge of your top teeth suggestively.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you said you had some decorations for the party tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.”

“Mind if I pick them up? I’m in the neighborhood.”

Yes. Yes you do mind. You cannot have Joel here in your house again. You lean against the wall, suddenly breathless.

“I’m not at home,” you lie. “I’ll bring them to you-“

You catch yourself realizing; which is worse? The remembrance of Joel making you come right here against this very wall? Or going to Joel’s house with his lush bed that you’ve definitely imagined gratuitously fucking him on?

“The kids are gonna be at my place watching a movie around four if you wanna come then,” Joel adds in a low tone and you realize the implication.  

You two definitely won’t be alone.  It’s safe.

“Okay. Four it is.”

///

Smart woman.

Smart to tell him no and that you’d bring the decorations here to his place. Smart because Joel had already been hard, trying not to think about the ache of his cock when he’d called you from the truck.

Smart because he told Tess that it wouldn’t happen again and she’d nodded and held him and told him she understood. That he and she were both adults and that slips happened. Once. That she wanted them to work.

Tess has to work late and asked Joel to babysit. Actually, she asked Joel if you would babysit Daniel over at her place but Joel hadn’t been okay with that. It felt strange to ask you that. So instead he’d brought Daniel here.

Now it’s four pm and Joel pushes himself off the sofa at the sound of the doorbell. Daniel and Sarah sit on the floor, popcorn in his daughters lap as they stare up at the television. She’s so distracted by the movie she doesn’t even notice when you slip away. Daniel glances over only a second before his attention is back on Jiminy Cricket.

He opens the door to see you laden with bags and he immediately feels remorse.

“Here, lemme help,” Joel says, taking the bags from you, heaving them onto his shoulders with ease. He misses the way your eyes widen at the sight, your gaze going dreamy for a moment before you snap to it and carry the rest in after him.

He notices you’re wearing jeans and an extremely baggy sweatshirt that he can only assume is an oversized piece of Paul’s, zipped high on your neck. It hits Joel moments later that you’ve tried to cover your entire body up, to try and hide from him.

Don’t you get that looks are only part of it? And that you covering up just makes him want to uncover you? Unzip that hideous sweatshirt and see what’s underneath? Are you naked? No bra?

Quit it, Miller.

“Did you bring enough shit?” Joel muses, looking at the wide array of bags. You smile softly shrugging at the pile of balloons, decorations, fabric and more.

“I wasn’t sure exactly what you and Tess had decided on,” you reply breezily. “I just brought over a bunch of stuff. Whatever you don’t use I’ll grab after the party.”

Joel nods, watching as you begin to pull things from bags. Joel warns you with a hush that Sarah and Daniel are in the living room down the hall so if you keep your voice down you may just be able to escape without being pulled into watching the Little Mermaid for the millionth time after Pinocchio. You nod in agreement, sure to keep your voice quiet.

“Okay I don’t know what your plan is for before the party, but I always wanted to wake up on my birthday to a room full of balloons. Like, you walk downstairs and it’s just a sea of color you have to wade through.”

“You always wanted that? As an adult?” Joel chides.

“Obviously not as an adult,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Well. . . Maybe a little as an adult.”

Joel smirks at the laugh you try to suppress. “Did you ever get it?”

“What do you think? Why do you think I’m trying to get it for Sarah? It’s so at least one of us can experience the joy of a balloon room!”

Joel chuckles softly at this, watching how you busy yourself moving around the crowded table. He knows why you’re doing this – the more you two talk about this, the less time there is to think about him at your house coaxing you to ride his thigh to climax.

Smart woman.

Not too smart though, because the longer he doesn’t have you, the more turned on he gets. Even now as you talk he’s imagining all the things he could do with you.  

“But I was thinking we could do all these different shades of purple balloons in the kitchen,” you continue excitedly. “So when she comes to have her birthday breakfast she’ll walk into this giant thing of balloons and that’ll  just start the day right.”

“Birthday breakfast?” Joel is smiling widely now. His body moves towards you, instinctively drawing near, neither of you notice as he does this.

“Yeah you know,” you say with a shy smile. “The special breakfast you get on your birthday?”

“What does that entail, usually?”

“Uh. . . Pancakes with little faces in them? Strawberries cut to look like flowers?  I don’t fucking know, Joel.”

“Well, in this house we go out for birthday breakfast,” Joel explains.  He’s standing so close to you now, his hand almost brushing yours. “Just me and the birthday girl. Makes it special since I already make pancakes for her every fucking Sunday.”

Still smiling you give him a strangely watery look, nodding and then looking away.  

///

You move to stand behind the kitchen island, dragging some of the decor over with you. You need to step away from Joel for a moment; you need to give yourself some breathing room.

It’s fucking warm in here.

You unzip the sweatshirt a fraction, needing to release some of the heat that you’re concerned has nothing to do with your choice of clothing and everything to do with Joel’s lips when they curve into a smirk.

You go back to the small frog and toad decor you got from the party store, trying to fit the cardboard pieces together so they create a cute little stand.  You’re distracted by this, not even noticing Joel is across from you until you hear his low rasp.

“Is that my shirt?”

Your fingers still. Joel moves to stand next to you at the island, his dark eyes fixed on the grey fabric peeking out from underneath the sweatshirt. Your eyes blow wide, panic overtaking you as you try to even your breathing.

“W-what?”

“Is that my shirt?" Joel repeats in a murmur, his face unreadable. You feel your heart jumping, humiliation now overtaking you. 

"No," you lie, putting down the craft and facing away from him. You zip your jacket up to your neck, hiding the shirt again.

Fuck, you’d forgotten you were wearing it.

Your hands go to the top of the island, placing your palms there to steady yourself as your heart throws itself against your ribcage.

You're not expecting Joel’s hand to slide under your hair, pushing it over your shoulder. You go to pull away but his warm fingers skate over your exposed neck. You shiver as his forefinger curls at the edge of the collar, pulling it down so he can see the tag. 

"You shop at the Men's Wearhouse?"

"Rummage sale," you gulp. "I-it was in with a bunch of women's stuff. I guess I just assumed-"

Your hands are still on the counter, steadying yourself. You can feel the hot breath of Joel on the back of your neck before he speaks softly. 

"Why are you lyin' to me?"

You crane your neck, looking at Joel over your shoulder. 

How can you explain it to him? That when you wear it you feel like he's there with you? That you feel good when you carry a part of him around with you? What would he even say to that? 

You would never tell him that. He's with Tess. He's made his choice. You're with Paul, you made yours.  You'll always be friends. It's the only way you can have him and Sarah in your life. The only way you can survive. 

But friends don't look at each other the way you and Joel are right now, do they? Friends don't get so close, practically breathing into one anothers mouths. You tilt your head away from him, needing to steady yourself. 

Just focus. Deep breath and then ---

Wordlessly Joel's hands are skimming around to the front of your sweatshirt, pulling down the zipper with a sensual slowness from behind you. It releases at the bottom and he pulls the sweatshirt from your shoulders, sliding it down the crook of your arm before letting it fall to your feet. 

You still face away from him, your cheeks blazing because it's so obvious by how it hangs on you that you are in fact wearing Joel’s t-shirt. The one he gave you that night when your clothes had needed to be dried. The clothing you told him you’d return and never did. The t-shirt that you wear to bed sometimes, or out under your usual clothes. 

You wait for the humiliating comment. The amused observation that you're obsessed with him. 

But it never comes. 

Instead his head is tilted forward, his mouth skating up your neck until it reaches your ear. 

"I like seein' you in my clothes," Joel murmurs there.  

Your eyes shutter at the sensation of his hot breath on your earlobe. His fingers move along the base of the t-shirt, as if he intends to pull it up over your head.  

You want him to. 

Wait. Wait you want him to? Are you fucking insane?

You know that you’re not alone here. That you could be caught here, bracing yourself on the counter as Joel leans over you, his hands sliding up under the hem of your (his) t-shirt.

Your heart slams against your ribs so harshly you lose your balance, your knees trembling. You worry you're going to faint. You feel his hips press into your back, keeping you steady against the counter. 

You should stop, you know this. But Joel is so tall and broad behind you, his lips so soft as he now kisses the side of your neck. Goosebumps break out all over as his warm hand start sliding up your stomach.  

You move back as his palms come to cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your already straining nipples through the fabric of your bra. You grip the edge of the counter so tightly your knuckles are white. 

"Joel we can't," you murmur, even as you arch yourself into his hands. 

"I can't stop," he says almost helplessly against your neck. "I can't-“

His hands are kneading your tits and you grind back against him, your eyes shut languidly. His mouth is skimming along your jaw, teasing you. 

You want to stay like this forever. 

As he wanted to do that day not so long ago, he unbuttons your jeans and before you can think to stop him; his calloused palm is hurriedly sliding under the band of your panties. 

His hand is warm and inviting and feels so good against your skin. He cups your sex in his wide palm before pausing as he looks at you, uncertainty passing over his features and yours.

What are we doing?!

You slip your own hand over his with the focused goal of pulling it from the confines of your under things.

"We can't do this," you say, even though there's no power behind your words. 

Something changes in Joel's eyes, a feeling you can't place. Again he pauses, looking at you and inhaling with a shudder. 

"We shouldn't," he breathes against your mouth.

"It's wrong," you agree gently, your lips almost brushing against his. 

Joel shivers at the near contact, swallowing. You feel him pull back, his hand halfway out of your panties. You relax because you two made the mature decision to stop. 

But then Joel's gripped your own hand in his and thrust it into your panties, towards your dripping core.

"What if it's your fingers?" Joel pants hot in your ear. "If it's your fingers it's not wrong, right?"

There's so little logic in that statement you could laugh. But nothing seems funny right now. Joel's his lower lip is quivering with need.

“I… I…”

His thumb has come to land on the back of your hand and he makes tiny circles there as he waits, pressing a kiss to your exposed throat before pulling back. His face is so close to yours, his eyes drinking in your features.

"Show me," he rasps against your cheek as he urges your hand down to land on the dripping slot of your sex. With shaking fingers he urges your digits gently up the soaking seam. "Make yourself come."

You hold in a whimper, terrified you'll be heard. He breathes harshly though his nose and you hold in a moan when you see him start to palm himself through his jeans with his free hand. 

"Let me watch," he urges huskily. 

He curls your fingers inwards, sliding over your clit. You jump a little, on high alert. He smiles, urging your fingers to splay and then encourages you to begin rubbing before he removes his hand, sliding it up over your abdomen and out of your panties.

It feels so fucking good. 

Devastatingly good. And not because of how you're touching yourself or that you could be caught, but because of whom it’s for. It feels good because Joel asked you to do it and you are.  It feels good because Joel Miller is hard for you, whispering how much he needs to see you come for him while you wear his clothes.

One of his hands is at vee of his jeans, the other crawling up your t-shirt to knead your breast. 

You try to turn away from him, to hide the pleasure that is taking over your features but he forces your cheek back gently with his free hand. He does this until you're facing him over your shoulder the best you can. 

"Need to see your face when you come for me," Joel explains in a rasp as his clothed hips circle your ass. 

He didn't just say that.  Joel Miller didn't just purr those words in the sexiest baritone you've ever heard. Does he know what his voice does to you?

Your fingers are working quickly over your clit now and Joel's hands are both on your hips, guiding you against him as you work hurriedly within your panties. 

You can both hear how wet you are and normally that would humiliate you, but the effect it has on Joel is anything but embarrassing. His eyes are blazing, looking down the length of your body with a look of almost pained pleasure. 

He groans. "Fuck, I wanna taste you again."

Jesus Christ. All he has to do is keep talking like that and you're gonna hit the edge. 

Memories of that night back in December against you and a fresh wave of arousal flood you. 

He presses into you tightly from behind, tilting you over the counter slightly. You can feel him throbbing through his jeans. He whispers for you to go faster, and you feel yourself bucking into your fingers as your orgasm approaches. 

"I want it," you say over and over as the haze of lust takes you on. "I-i wanna..."

He's pressing a groan into the top of your head before pulling back to watch for face. He obviously enjoys the sight of your eyes fixed on his face as you bring yourself closer and closer to the precipice because his hand has begun palming himself in earnest through his jeans. 

It takes everything in you not to cry out. It feels so fucking good to have him looking at you like that and holding back his own groans as you bring yourself closer and closer to orgasm. 

"I need you to come," he whispers in your ear in a ragged voice. "I need it. I need you. Please, I ---"

Rapid footsteps on wood sound out, heading in your direction. You and Joel practically jump apart only seconds before Sarah busts into the kitchen with a squeak. She's carrying the big model plane you brought over last week, pretending to fly it through the air. 

"Daniel wants a water, daddy."

You can see that Joel is rock hard through his jeans, blessedly shielded by the counter. Seeing it makes your breath come out in jagged little huffs. You're impossibly thankful that the shirt you're wearing covers the top of your jeans, hiding the fact that they are undone. 

"No problem babygirl," Joel says clearing his throat. "I'll bring it in right away."

Sarah nods and skips back to Daniel and the still blasting television. The air in the room seems to be sucked out leaving you gasping and red -faced. 

What is wrong with the two of you?

The first time could be chalked up to pent up anger coming out in a need to feel each other’s bodies. But this? There was no need for this. There was no animosity, no verbal sparring, just this ache between your selfish fucking legs.

Selfish. Just like-

"I should go," 

"Don't," Joel says seemingly before he can help himself. He moves towards you but you hold a hand up between you, stepping back. 

"Joel, no. This is so... What the fuck are we doing?"

He's silent.

"I'm with Paul, you're with Tess, remember?"

"You're not happy," Joel tells you in a quiet voice, his eyes dark and intense. "I know you're not."

You're angry about the entire situation. Angry that his touch makes you do things that make you ashamed. Angry that he thinks he knows everything about you and Paul. Furious because you know that if he touches you again you won't be able to say no. 

"Go give Daniel his water, Joel." Your hushed tone is cold as you pull on and zip up your sweatshirt. "Go see your daughter. She's sitting with your girlfriend’s son right now." 

Joel stands there in the kitchen, looking at you with those impossibly sad, wide eyes of his. He moves towards you again, his body broad and imposing despite the sweetness in his gaze.  

"Please," you beg, shaking your head. "Please don't. I can't.”

If he touches you, even to say goodbye, you won't have the strength to deny him anything. 

"Fuck," Joel says shaking his head and blinking. "You're right. You're right. Go. I'm so sorry, just go.”

///

Maria brings her magazines into your suite, her eyes bright. She’s been on cloud nine for the last week, her dark eyes bright and her smile so wide you think it might crack her face in half. You absolutely relish the sight.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“The dress is in!”

You give an excited squeal, jumping up and demanding she show you photos but she refuses, as she has done since she bought the damn thing.

“It’s a surprise,” she insists with a melodramatic twist to her voice. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

“It’s good you’re here,” you say, suddenly anxious. “I wanted to talk to you about something kinda huge.”

She pauses, glancing around your suite. Something looks different. The place more sparse. It’s not until she sees the cardboard boxes stacked by the door that she understands. You’re distracted getting towels from the drier and bringing them to an empty box so you don’t see how her face hardens or how she shakes her head slowly.

“Are you packing?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling at her. “It’s your early wedding present. I’m moving in with Paul when the lease is up at his old place. He found a place for us in Leander.”

“Leander? That’s like forty minutes away from here.”

“I know,” you say, surprised by the sudden hostility in her tone. “But Paul has the car, so it’ll be an easy commute. No more bus for me!”

When Maria doesn’t smile back, you feel the first bubbling in your chest. Something is off. You had assumed she’d be delighted, even excited at how you were both in such committed relationships.

You haven’t told her about Joel and his beautiful fucking mouth on yours or his hands or -  well, any of it. It’s a shameful secret you’ll live with.  A family trait, you tell yourself in your dark moments.

"You can’t move out," Maria blurts.  

You turn, surprised by the chill of her tone.  You begin to load the towels into the box marked “toiletries”. As you do, you realize that maybe she’s just worried about not seeing you as much. This past year has been so wonderful, both of you being so present in one another’s lives.Your heart softens and you smile sweetly at her, reaching out to embrace her.

“You know I’ll come and visit all the time.”

“It isn’t that.”

You stop, your hands dropping to your sides.

"Maria you're getting married next weekend," you say with a laugh. "You're telling me that you and Tommy are gonna live upstairs, build a family and I should just stay living in your basement?"

"I already talked to Tommy about it and he agrees you should stay," Maria insists. "Says you're like family-"

"But I'm not family, am I?" you suddenly defend, your cheeks flushing as you say it out loud. "Not really. You and Tommy will be a family.  Joel is Tommy's family, Sarah's his niece. But who am I?"

The silence that follows is as hideous as it is devastating. You've never feel so alone as when you voice your deepest insecurities. 

"You're my best friend," Maria finally answers with glassy eyes. "My chosen family."

"It's not the same." You shake your head, turning from her so she can't see your tears. "You were gonna flip this house, remember? It was supposed to be an investment for you."

"I like this house," Maria says softly. Her arms are folded as if she's holding herself from crumbling. "Tommy and I fell in love in this house. We built together in this house. I'm not selling it. So there's no reason for you to go."

"Even if you aren't selling this place, I have to go." You pull the tape over the cardboard, its sound loud and cracking in the quiet room as you sniffle. "Paul is offering me a real future.”

“Oh fuck Paul!” Maria shouts, surprising you. You can see the glare in her features, the ferociousness that comes with a certain air of protectiveness. “Paul doesn’t deserve you. He never has.”

“What?”

“You know it, I know it, Tommy fucking knows it,” Maria says emphasizing Tommy’s name. “And what’s worse is you pretending like he does.”

Rage and humiliation and deep hurt slash through you like a knife to the gut.

“Paul wants to marry me, Maria. He wants to have kids and buy a house and he wants it with me!” you shout back, surprising you both. You don't think you've ever shouted at Maria before. “Why is that so wrong? Why is it so fucking wrong to want what you and Tommy have? Or what Joel has? Why don’t I get to be happy?”

“You will,” Maria promises with a sincerity she truly feels. “But not with Paul.”

You give a frustrated noise in the back of your throat, throwing the towels into the box, not even bothering to fold them.

“Even if it wasn’t Paul, I can't live in my friend’s basement forever, Maria. Do you know how pathetic that feels?"

"More pathetic than running back to some guy who left you to go play at being a rock star?"

That stings.

That actually physically hurts worse than if she’d slapped you.

"Stop it," you say softly because now the tears building. But Maria isn't stopping. 

"A guy who thought ditching you after two years together just so he could live out some adolescent fantasy was fair? Who took your car?"

She's furious and hurt and you can see it all in her face. It’s like all you can make out is her face, everything else is black around the edges. You feel sick.

"A guy who came back with his tail between his legs because he couldn't make it so he-"

"Enough!" you shout. “I don’t want to hear it, Maria!”

You brush the tears from your eyes, hiccupping a cry and sinking to your knees as Maria shakes her head and leaves, slamming the door behind her.

///

Mini golf is not a sport beloved by Joel Miller. 

In fact he hates it. Hates bending down until his back cracks, hates the stupid fucking attractions at each putting green, hates that annoying children that rush by urging him to hurry up so they can take their turn. 

But he loves seeing Sarah so happy. 

She's giggling madly her hands in the air in a tiny v of victory. Her little friend Jessie is at your other hip, looking up at you through pink glasses with just as much affection as Sarah. You came to the party, cheeks pink and unable to look at Joel but you’re here. Paul is coming late, you mention to Maria and Tommy. Good. Joel hopes he doesn’t come at all.  

"Hole in one!"

“Hole in five,” you counter with a laugh. “But since it’s your birthday I think I can let it slide.”

And he loves watching you and her laughing as you tally the scores. He knows that you’re being casual, being ‘normal’ with Joel because its Sarah’s party and you refuse to make it awkward for her.

Sarah is confused that the lowest score is the winning one, citing that there must be a mistake. As they work on this Joel surreptitiously kicks his bright green ball into the plastic hole. It makes a rattling sound that draws your attention.

“Daddy got a hole in one too!” Sarah says and Jessie joins in her cheer, the two of them jumping up and down, holding hands. You however are swanning towards Joel with a very disbelieving look.

"Cheater!" You cry out, your face flushed merrily. You meet his eyes now, and he sees them twinkling.

"No proof," Joel smirks.  

You and Sarah give him a dubious look before setting your own ball down on the green and taking aim. You’re shockingly good at this and Joel has to hold in a laugh when you sail by, tossing your hair over your shoulder dramatically as you get your real hole in one.

“Some people are just natural talents,” you say laughing.

Joel watches as you, Sarah and Jessie go walking over to the next par. Both the girls have taken a hand, twisting you around as you all laugh. You hair streams out behind you, back lit by the sun of the afternoon. Your laugh loudly and without care. 

Fuck you're luminous. 

Joel can't stop looking at you, trying to be covert. He sweeps a hand over his eyebrows, his eyes straining to keep you in his sights without being obvious. He goes towards the group, his eyes on you and not on Sarah who is swinging her club around wildly while Jessie takes her turn.

"Careful," Joel laughs when she almost clips him. "Almost got me in the head, babygirl."

"Sorry daddy," Sarah says, her eyes filled with concern which lessens when she sees the second half of your group; Tess, Daniel, Maria and Tommy heading to your course.  Maria gives you a good-natured scowl.

"How are you all so damn fast?"

"Sarah, Jessie and I are just really good at mini golf," you brag airily, running your hand through Sarah's springy locks. "Joel on the other hand..." 

///

The group laughs at the insinuation, but you don't miss the way Tess hangs back a bit from the group, her smile not reaching her eyes when she looks at you and Sarah. 

You remember that night in the bar with Tess. 

You remember the kitchen with Joel.

"Sarah why don't you help Tess with this round?" you say, giving her tiny frame a gentle nudge in Tess direction. 

"Don't wanna," Sarah says, her hand going to grip yours. 

You can feel the brutal sting of public rejection for Tess and your heart cracks. You go down to one knee in front of her with Joel staring at the back of your head.

"Paul is gonna be here soon and I need to visit with him," you say nudging her again. "Go on and play with Tess. I bet she'd like the help."

Sarah rolls her eyes but does as you request. She holds a hand out to Tess who takes it gratefully. She doesn’t even look at you in thanks, just murmurs to Sarah about how good Sarah is at mini golf.

It hurts.

You can’t lie and say that seeing Sarah with Tess hurts. Maria has come towards you, looking nervous.

“So where’s Paul?” Maria broaches with her eyes soft.

She knows that after the other night’s outburst you two are both on shaky ground. A friendship spanning decades and this is the worst thing you’ve said or done to one another.

It makes you both feel weird and timid around each other, despite the sisterhood you have always shared.

You don’t want to be upset though – her wedding is coming up and you want this time to be happy for your friend. You move past the irritation of the other night and accept the olive branch.

“He’s gonna be a bit late.”

Maria nods, not saying much else.  You both watch Tommy try and hit his ball, his tall frame hunched over comically. When his ball sails into one of the pools of shallow aqua water and swears loud enough for Sarah to chide him, you and Maria giggling softly to one another.

///

Joel can hear you and Maria laughing up ahead. He feels his feet instinctively pulling him towards your part of the group, his chest warming at the sound of your laughter.

“Joel?”

Tess breaks Joel from his reverie. Joel pauses, glancing over to see her striding towards him.

"I have to go to the washroom. Can you watch Daniel?" 

Joel’s eyes snap to Daniel who is getting ready for his turn to swing at the last hole. He’s far behind the group, finding it hard to continue on when there are so many rocks and blades of grass to look at.

"Sure."

"Might be nice for my guys to get to know each other."

She squeezes Joel’s shoulder tightly before sashaying away through the groups of young golfers. 

It's obvious that Tess is trying to get him to bond with her son, Daniel. He tries, fascinated by the difference between a son and a daughter. Sarah is so delicate, hesitant at times whereas Daniel is loud, abrasive and he loves to smash his toy trucks into each other.

It's funny because growing up Joel has always assumed he'd have sons. Perhaps because he'd always had Tommy there, taking care of his little brother like a father would. And then Sarah had come along and it's like he'd been waiting his whole life to meet her, this sweet little girl, folding into the position of "girl-dad" with such ease that he can't imagine anything else. 

With Daniel it's especially hard because he just doesn't feel an ounce of connection to the kid. Daniel is sweet, a bit whiny compared to Sarah (but every child that isn't Sarah annoys him) and he doesn't seem to like Joel that much. 

Joel watches Daniel hit the pale yellow golf ball with his club, stomping his little foot when he misses the hole. It's almost amusing to see the kid fall down onto his butt in a frustration. He drops to his knee, about to tell Daniel its fine but pulls back when Daniel erupts into a shrieking wail.

Tess is still in the washroom, leaving Joel to kneel next to a screaming boy who is now throwing his body backwards onto the green while his tiny fists and feet bang against the artificial turf. 

"Daniel-"

"YOU'RE NOT MY DADDY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Joel physically recoils at the aggression in the tiny boys freckled features. He flinches when heads turn in his direction, embarrassment flooding him. The back of his neck feels hot.

"I never said I was your daddy, Daniel. C’mon now. Get up."

Daniel continues to wail. Loud enough for the world to hear. He continues to urge the boy up, his neck warm from the looks of those nearby. 

He glances over when he sees a pair of shoes come into his peripheral. Of course it's you. Joel feels his breath leave him as you come into focus. 

"Daniel? Was that you yelling? You've got some pretty impressive lungs!" you drop to your knees in front of the sniffling boy. "I bet you're a really good swimmer." 

Having expected discipline, Daniel is stunned into silence by your gentle amusement. 

"It's no fair," Daniel whines, kicking at the dimpled little ball by his foot. "This golf is stupid."

"Oh, I bet I know what happened," you say with a voice of wonder that Daniel can't help but respond to. You tap your chin theatrically looking into middle distance as the young boy stares up at you.

He hiccups a muttered response, his eyes wet with tears. "What?"

"Come with me." You hold out your hand and he takes it, allowing you to pull him to a stand. He follows you off of the green, allowing the patient family who has been waiting to begin their turn. 

You sit by on one of the plastic benches designed to look like wood, patting the seat next to you. Joel watches as Daniel clamors up his eyes rapt on your face. You hold up his pale yellow ball and your bright red one in front of you, looking thoughtful and pretending to weigh them in each hand. 

"Just as I suspected," you say with a serious tone. "You got one of the faulty ones. I heard about this happening. The balls look normal but they're unbalanced inside so they wobble and don't go into the cup even when they're supposed to."

Joel can only stare at you. How are you just so natural with everyone? Even Daniel is captivated, his eyes widening. 

"That's what happened!" Daniel says in such an exuberant tone that Joel sees you try to hold in a laugh. 

Tess has returned from the washroom and is coming up behind Daniel. Joel misses this, so focused on your face and the way you smile with your whole face.

"You wanna take my spot with Jessie and Sarah? I don't mind. I'll even trade your ball for mine."

You hold out your chipped red golf ball in his direction. Daniel smiles, tears forgotten and reaches for it only to have Tess tug him back. 

"He's fine," Tess snaps with a sharp look. She comes to stand behind Daniel, gripping him by the shoulder as she looks down at you. 

Joel feels his hand tighten reflexively when he sees your smile fade. 

"Sorry!" You say red faced. “Just thought Daniel might want to join Sarah and Jessie at the next hole."

"He doesn't," Tess assures you, her eyes flinty. "He and Joel were hanging out, getting to know each other better."

You seem to understand something in that because your eyes go from Daniel to Joel and then back to Tess. You force a smile and nod. You straighten, embarrassment flushed in your cheeks. You look like a child who has been admonished by a teacher. 

"Right. Sorry about that."

Before Joel can tell you that you've done nothing to apologize for, Maria and Tommy are calling for you, echoed by the two young girls. Joel watches as you scamper off. Tess urges Daniel to continue on ahead, joining the group before she sneers.

"Jesus does she always have to do that?" 

Joel is confused by Tess' anger, twisting to face her. "What?"

"Try to control everything."

"That's not what she was doin', Tess," Joel explains calmly. "Your son was screaming his head off after he missed the cup. She was just calming him down so he didn’t keep causing a scene with his tantrum."

Tess 'cheeks go pink, embarrassed about a litany of things in that sentence. 

"She's always just... around," Tess says with a flustered look when Joel openly scowls at her. 

"I like her around," Joel says in a voice that does not welcome criticism or debate. "So does Sarah. So do most people."

Tess goes very red in the face, urging Daniel to go join Maria. Joel knows what coming, feels it in his bones. And yet it's not until she says the words that his eyes slip shut. 

"I can only assume it was her?”

Joel feels his stomach sink, so aware of their surroundings. This is his babygirl's birthday and he doesn't want it spoiled. His voice is a low murmur that only she can hear. 

"Not now. Not here."

"When?" Tess challenges. 

"Tonight. At my place."

He’s thought about it since last night after you left. Even if you are with Paul, even if you don’t want him, he can’t do this to Tess. She doesn’t deserve it.  He’d have done it last night if it weren’t for the party. He doesn’t want anything spoiling it.

"After I drop Daniel at his dad's?” Tess says with false enthusiasm. “After Sarah's asleep?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe I should just start going through your bedroom window?" Tess says ruefully. "Save some time and that way Sarah will never have any clue that I'm staying over or that I'm in your life at all."

Joel is silent. Nothing he says will change anything. He knows Tess is mad and he knows she won't stop. 

"Why are you with me?"

"I said not now, Tess," Joel almost barks. "Not at my kid’s birthday party."

Tess' eyes are glossy now. She's biting the inside of her cheek to stop them from becoming teary. 

"Do you have any idea how brutal it is to stand back and watch your boyfriend falling more and more in love with someone else, Joel?" 

Joel feels his stomach drop at this, because not only is she completely justified in feeling this way; it’s also become clear that his affection for you is not subtle or hidden. It’s obvious enough that Tess can see it. Obvious enough that she immediately knew you were the one he kissed.

Tess looks about to say more but breaks off to glance over his shoulder. Joel feels his blood run cold at the sound of a new low voice behind him.

"Sorry I'm late."

Of course it's fucking Paul. 

Paul who as Joel turns to observe, looks like he stepped out of some hipster magazine. Paul who is giving Joel a very peculiar look with those piercing blue eyes of his.

Paul who has likely just heard all of what Tess just said. 

"Have you seen-"

"She's with Sarah and Maria over there," Joel interrupts, tossing his hand in your direction. "We'll catch up with y'all in a sec."

Paul nods, a wrapped gift under his arm as he saunters towards the group. Joel wills himself not to look in your direction when you spot him, giving a soft coo of his name at his approach. 

"Tess I can't do this now. Later,” Joel pleads. “After the party we'll talk. I promise."

Tess has tears in her eyes but she nods, sniffling. Silently they walk towards the group, both faces twisted in a quiet anguish they cannot yet voice. 

///

Part two of the birthday party takes place in the McDonalds a short walk from the mini golf location. The group of you walks over, Tess holding Daniel’s hand, Sarah and Jessie holding yours. Joel walks behind the group, watching you walk, admiring how you look from behind and then immediately feeling guilty about it.

Maria and Tommy drive on ahead, setting up the balloons and toad decor and a gift table so that when Sarah walks in she knows exactly where to go. She squeals, almost jumping in place as Maria helps to put her party hat on. Paul has brought the gift you bought, wrapped beautifully in shimmering pastels with him. 

"Is that for me?" Sarah asks shyly up at him when he places it amongst the others.  Paul grins down at her, nodding.

“Yep. We got you something real good.”

You smile at Paul, finding it sweet to see him interact with Sarah. It gives you a glimpse of what he’d be like as a dad.

The kids take a seat around the table and you help Sarah with the plastic bib, smiling as she tells you all about how she hopes she’ll get two burgers (she will, but she’ll only eat half of the first one). 

You can see Tess over the crowd of people in the restaurant. She and Joel are speaking just outside the doors. You continue watching as Tess goes to take his hand. He sweeps his hand down her back instead, gently urging her forward and you feel your stomach tighten because you know what that feels like, to have Joel’s hand at the small of your back.

“Are you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure. What?”

You see Joel and Tess approach and try to hold in a frown. Joel's hand is still at the small of her back. Innocuous to most, but painfully obvious to you. 

“Gonna get a drink, you want one?”

“Sure. Diet Coke.”

Paul nods, heading off towards the till and Maria walks over, her head shaking as you look on to see the kids eating their burgers just delivered by a tired looking teenager wearing a pasted-on smile.

You and Maria watch as the kids start dueling with their French fries, laughing and dipping them into ketchup before pretending to be stabbing each other with the pointed tips of the crunchiest ones.

“From dive bars to fucking McDonalds,” Maria tuts as she takes a sip of her soda. “Who could’ve seen that happening?”

“Not me,” you say with a laugh, the two of you collapsing into hushed giggles. Tommy walks over, slinging his arm around his fiancée. Maria has brought her new digital camera, taking photos of everything. Right now she chooses to take an unflatteringly close snapshot of her beloved pulling a face into the camera. 

“What’re you two gigglin’ about over here?”

“Just the realization that we’re no longer cool,” you say with a dramatic sigh that Maria grins at. Tommy smirks as well. “I wouldn’t smile too much, Miller, you’re just as un-cool as we are.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Tommy growls playfully. Joel, who has noticed the three of you giggling comes over, his eyes traveling along your faces.

“What am I missing?”

“A hat,” you tell him pointedly. You reach beside him to grab several of the pointy cone-shaped paper hats like Sarah and the other kids are wearing and hand them to the group. Tommy and Maria put theirs on without question, as do you, the tight elastic string digging into your jaw.  

“C’mon,” you say playfully as Joel hesitates. “Can’t party without a hat.”

Joel shoots you a dark look undercut by the smirk he’s trying to hide. He places the hat on his head, the rubber band taut around his chin. While you and the group look playful, on Joel the party hat looks atrocious with its McDonalds cartoon and Joel’s curls haphazardly askew underneath.

“Nevermind," you giggle. "Take it off.”

The group’s laughter is cut off at the arrival of Tess and then Paul. Tess comes up to the group, specifically standing between you and Joel, leaning her shoulder against his. Tommy and Maria exchange a look before taking a sip from their drinks. 

“Looks like the party’s here,” she says with forced joviality.

Maria makes a sound of agreement, her eyes drifting over to Joel and then back to Tommy.  Tess glances over at you, giving you a smile with no warmth and you wonder if Joel told her anything.

Does she know you kissed? That you? . . . No. He wouldn’t have told her that.

It makes you feel ashamed. It makes you feel guilty. And then it makes you feel impossibly vulnerable when Joel’s eyes dart to your face from over her head. Paul arrives seconds later to bring you over your soda and the group breaks apart, the moment gone.

///

After burgers, a mountain of soda and a pile of gifts it’s time to cut the cake. Sarah is already buzzing from all the sugar but when she sees the cake she is almost beside herself with delight.

It’s a basic sheet cake with Ronald McDonalds’s image holding a stack of colorful gifts. Six green and purple striped candles line the image. You know the cake is going to taste like wax, but there’s something nostalgic about the whole experience that makes you smile.  Paul murmurs a similar observation in your ear and you nod, wincing at the heat of his breath on your ear.

Joel has a lighter in one hand as he motions for Sarah to sit beside him with the other. The rest of the group is gathering around, some standing, and some sitting. Jessie is watching the cake with a look of hunger. Daniel is slouched at the far end still eating his French fries.

"C'mon babygirl," Joel says as Sarah runs over to him. He lights the candles on the cake, chuckling as Sarah squeaks excitedly.  She grins up at you from over the cake, her large eyes wide.

“Got your wish?” you ask playfully. Sarah’s face becomes focused and she nods.

“Yep.”

"Alright then, go on and make your wish," Joel tells her, holding the hair back from her face as it dips towards the candles. “Make it a good one.”

Sarah glances from you to her dad and then back at the flickering candles. You smile, wishing that your worries and dreams could be solved by blowing out six tiny flames. 

She extinguishes the candles a very focused breath to the cheers of her family and friends and some nearby patrons who love a good singalong. Joel squeezes her tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as she squirms in his arms from the attention.

"Smile Sarah!" Maria calls from the corner. She raises the compact digital camera to her eye line. 

Sarah wraps her arms around Joel's neck and smushes her cheek up next to his. This makes him smile, that broad smile where his eyes disappear and his dimple pops out. Sarah does the same, her own dimple a mirror of her father's. The two of them smile up at the camera in Maria's hand and all you can feel is a debilitating love for them. 

It's a deep abiding affection that makes your entire body feel like its glowing but from the inside. You have to look away because you can feel yourself getting emotional. 

Then you hear your name being shouted and Sarah is holding out a hand to you.

"I want you in the picture!" she says, her face imploring you. You hesitate, almost feeling Tess' furious gaze on you, burning a hole through your head. You consider not doing anything or insisting you get a photo later. But Joel is twisting to face you, his brows raised.

“Go on,” Paul says tightly. “Be weird if you didn’t.”

With a small nod you move to take the seat next to Joel and Sarah, feeling awkward. You smile at the camera, wanting to get this over with. 

But then Sarah shifts to her father's other knee and goes in the middle of you both. She urges you closer until she can get one tiny arm hooked around your neck, one arm hooked around her father's. Satisfied she looks up at Maria.

"Okay Auntie Maria," Sarah says with a broad smile. "You can take the picture.'"

///

Sarah doesn't understand when the three of you stopped existing together. She would never use those words but its how she feels. 

Sarah remembers the coloring book you left her signed from toad, telling her to make the world more colorful. To Sarah that's what you do. You sail into the house with stories or cupcakes or hugs and singing and you make her world more colorful.

It used to be so warm and happy at her house because you would be there. Daddy used to smile more often too. She loves when it's the three of you like at the park. 

At the park, before ice cream, she and a young boy had been playing on the slide. Sarah called out to you and Joel to watch her. Both sets of eyes had immediately drawn to her with you clapping and cheering. 

"It's that your mummy and daddy?" the boy behind her asked. 

Without hesitation Sarah had told him "yes", her tiny stomach flipping as she went down the slide, a mixture of excited thrill from the descent and of what she'd told the boy. Because it feels like you’re a family.

But it also feels like there have been less park days. Less nights on the couch watching a movie eating popcorn. Things feel good when you're around but you're not around as much. 

But that's all going to change because Sarah made her wish and she knows that wishes come true because last year she wished for a mama. A mama who she could see and talk to and love.

And then there you were! You with your jellybeans and laughter and love and Sarah thanked the birthday gods for being so kind because you were so much better than she could ever have dreamed of. 

So this is why she knows that her birthday wish will come true this year as well. As she holds you and her father by the neck smiling up into the camera Sarah knows that everything will be okay. 

Because her wishes come true. 

///

“I can’t believe how tiny children can eat so much,” you tell Maria when the waxy cake has been eaten and all the kids having stumbled into the play area, shrieking with delight after the grownups have wiped down their cake-covered faces.  You’re all gathered around the table, helping Joel to tidy the mess.

Well, everyone but Maria. Maria is looking at the photos on her camera, smirking to herself as she holds it to Tommy.

“I don’t know if I can marry you Tommy, look how badly you photograph. Our wedding photos are gonna be shit.”

Tommy pulls her into an aggressive hug, kissing the side of her neck as she giggles. “Too late. You already said yes, so you’re stuck with me.”

You smile softly before you catch sight of Joel clearing paper plates at the other end of the table, his mouth in a small smirk as he looks at his baby brother. There’s affection in his dark eyes, even as he rolls them.

“Shit.”

You turn to see Daniel in the play area, his face screwed up in silent tears behind the glass.  Tess gives a deep sigh through her nose and brushes past you into the area. She kneels beside her son, brushing the hair from his forehead.

Tess is a good mom. And despite how chilly she’s treated you today, you know that she’ll make a good stepmom to Sarah. You push past how that makes your stomach twist.

“Here’s all your decoration stuff,” Joel says, hefting the bag towards you and breaking your gaze from Tess and Daniel. You’re about to take it when Paul reaches out, gripping it and smiling over at Joel.

“I got it. I’ll go put it in the car." He smiles at you. "Then you ready to go baby?”

“In a few minutes,” you say, smiling weakly.

You don’t really want to leave, but you suppose the party is wrapping up.

“Guys, you gotta see this photo of Sarah, it’s so adorable,” Maria says, looking through the overly bright screen hosting the digital images.  You and Joel crowd around her, looking over her shoulder. Tommy hangs back, a small smile on his face as he watches you all.

The photo Maria is referencing is the one of Sarah holding up the toad book you bought her. The one listing every species with photos, a CD rom and a poster she can hang on her wall. She’s screaming into the camera, so excited with her gift.

The next image is you, eyes shut in laughter as Sarah has thrown herself into your arms and you hug her tightly.

“Oh, go to the next one,” you urge with a cringe, desperate to see more Sarah and less of yourself. Tommy has wandered over now and the four of you look at the images

Maria acquiesces, flipping through the photos until she lands on the one of Joel and Sarah, cheeks smushed together and smiling up at the camera. Your favorite photo. You, Tommy and Maria let out a communal ‘awwww’ as Joel rolls his eyes.

“Next one,” he says, waving away the attention. You and Maria laugh as her hand rolls the toggle and then the laughing fades.

On the screen is the photograph of the three of you. The one you hadn’t initially wanted to take.

You’re almost shoulder to shoulder with Joel, Sarah’s tiny frame between you. She has each of your necks in the crooks of her skinny arms and all three of you are smiling up at the camera. You’ve never seen yourself in a photo with Joel and so the sight of it takes your breath away. 

Your eyes are sparkling and your cheeks are flushed merrily as you grin. Joel’s smile is equally bright, his eyes disappearing when he does. Sarah however, is beaming between the two of you, looking like she’s on top of the world.

And it’s like you see it for the first time.

How the three of you look like a family. How naturally you fit together in this photo, like pieces of a puzzle being snapped together. How when you look at this image it’s like you’ve been a family this entire time.

And then Maria’s finger slips and the next photo is shown. One you didn’t know she’d taken. In this photo your eyes are on Joel as he looks at down at Sarah with an indulgent grin. Your mouth is in a soft smile as you look at him in the photo and it’s so fucking clear in your eyes.

Simultaneously your gazes drift to meet behind Maria’s head, your mouth parting slowly. Your heart jumps because you can see that Joel has seen it too, the obvious thing that you have been terrified to acknowledge.

That you love him.  

And then Paul is back, coming up to the group to get you so you can leave. No one notices, even Tommy and Maria seem to have recognized the significance of this moment and have gone quiet.

Confused at the sobering tone, Paul looks from you to Joel gazing at each other and something crosses his face. He drops his light eyes to your hand when he goes to grip it, speaking loudly.

“You aren’t wearing the ring.”

///

If Joel could articulate this moment correctly, he would do so summarily: it feels like someone has reached into his chest, taken his still beating heart and slammed it viciously onto the ground, then stabbing pins into each chamber before setting the entire thing on fire.

The ring.

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what ring Paul is talking about. Your reaction is immediate. Your face drops and your eyes widen, shooting a meaningful look at Paul. In that look Joel can read exactly what you’re trying to communicate to Paul; I told you not here.

“Wait, you’re engaged?” Tess all but shrieks, a genuine smile breaking out over her face. “That’s amazing!”

You look so incredibly stunned by everything and all you do is nod, offering hushed words of thanks and smiling strangely. Like a puppet who’s face is all strings to be pulled and moved around.  

“Congrats,” Tommy offers weakly, his eyes darting to Joel and then back to you. Paul has slung his arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. Your face has blanched, all the color drained from it.

“Yeah, we weren’t gonna mention it because of your wedding coming up, Mar, but I figure why not share? It’s a happy occasion after all.”

If Joel thought he was upset at the situation, it’s nothing compared to the look Maria is shooting at you right now. A monstrous, furious gaze that he thinks makes you wince.

Joel watches as you murmur something about saying goodbye to Sarah and his attention is back on his daughter, watching her laughing and climbing the play structure, waving to you as she swings down to greet you.

Friends. We're friends .

Joel can't stop the anger that's going through him. He can’t stop shifting from foot to foot as he stands there; arms crossed watching you enter into the play area with a splotchy face. He recognizes this as a hallmark of you trying not to cry.

Doesn’t matter though. You’re not his to console.

Sarah has seen you and she comes speeding towards you, looking concerned. She too has seen the red face and eyes. You must assure her its nothing because the smile is back on her face. Jessie wanders over, her voice silent behind the wall of glass.

His eyes are following your figure as you chase Sarah towards the slide of the play area. He can hear the muffled shriek of his daughter behind the glass before she speeds towards it.

Joel watches as Tess approaches you and Sarah. You and Sarah giggle about something Jessie is saying before Sarah is talking a mile a minute, gesturing to you about something in the play area. She takes your hand, wanting to lead you towards the colorful slides. Tess watches this quietly observing the two of you.

When you notice Tess out the corner of your eyes Joel is shocked to see you immediately sober. Tess is smiling at you, but warily.  He watches you step back from Sarah, motioning to Tess to take your place as you head over to a waiting Tommy who has hung back, giving you sad eyes.

What the fuck was that?

"Hey Joel."

Joel glances over to see Paul approaching, his lanky frame strangely graceful. The way he moves makes Joel feel oversized and awkward. He’s the last fucking person Joel wants to see right now.

“Congrats,” Joel manages to rasp out with his jaw clenched.

“Thanks,” Paul says with conviction. “I think I actually have you to thank for it.”

Joel is struck by this. "Me? Why?"

Paul motions to you talking to Jessie near the ball pit. "She never wanted kids before."

"Really," Joel says in a tone so flat it could be road kill.

Paul doesn't seem to notice Joel's recalcitrance, or if he does he leans into it. 

"Nah, never considered it. When we were dating and I brought it up she was adamant, always had a reason not to," Paul says with a short laugh. "Said she didn't want to add to an overpopulated planet. Or that she didn't want to pass on her bad genes. Funny girl."

Joel hates this entire conversation. He hates the way Paul stand and talks and acts like he's so fucking deep. He hates how he calls you a girl when you're obviously a woman. 

"But after spending time Sarah? I think she's more open to the idea and that's thanks to you. And since she’s serious about kids, she was open to the idea of getting married quicker than she expected."

Joel's narrowed focus has moved from you back over to the man on his left. Paul sounds sincere in what he says, which somehow makes it worse. 

"So I guess I just really wanted to thank you."

He's actually thanking Joel for making it easier to knock you up.

Images of your belly swollen with another man's child enter into Joel’s mind. Picturing you with your arms full, rocking a small infant while murmuring sweet soothing words. Images of you laughing in bed with Paul, wearing his ring. And then finally the visage of you, dressed in white, standing there and making promises of eternal fidelity to a man who isn’t Joel.

This all serves to send his entire neck and face burning with an anger he doesn’t expect. One he can’t control.  But Paul isn’t stopping; in fact Joel’s silence seems to be prompting him to continue.

“You know, Joel,  this wouldn’t even be happening if it weren’t for you.”

Joel's fist connects with Paul's jaw before he even has a second to comprehend what he's done. 

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