#(you’re on your own kid. you always have been.)

[agentmarcuspike]

dave york x babysitter!f!reader

summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3

"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"

You hate being alone with Dave York.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem. 

There’s nothing wrong with him.

Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work  from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.

You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.

His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.

The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.

So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.

It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours. 

Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today. 

This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–

“Hey, hey!” 

A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing. 

“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”

His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.

“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows. 

“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”

He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.

The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.

“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.

“Let me get you some water.” 

As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.

As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.

He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.

Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily. 

“What do you do?”

The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness. 

“Sorry?”

“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”

He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.

“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”

“I’d be on the run, so not me.”

“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”

“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.

A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.

"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.

The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.

“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"

“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.

“Just a little surprising, I suppose.” 

He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”

He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.

Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…

Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.

“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him. 

You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.

“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.

“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”

You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.

“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.

His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.

“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”

It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.

Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.

Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.

Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.

“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”

“What?” you breathe.

“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”

You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood. 

“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“I’m gonna–

Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.

“Fucking… come… on.”

And you do.

Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily. 

With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.

And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.

“Daddy!”

Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.

“Dave, I’ll take her–”

But he’s already out the door.

Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans. 

You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.

taglist:

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@pastelpinkflowerlife @mountainsandmayhem @inept-the-magnificent @bitccchmood @sullyselena

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@your-teeth-glow-in-the-dark @rsquared31 @r3dheadedwitch @alejaa-a @myhappyplaceofstuff

@yodasgreenthumb @dovedewdrop @saradika @clawdee @harrisonispunk

@lostfleurs @always-andromeda @amanitacowboy

#dave york #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x female reader #equalizer 2 #my writing #ahhhhhhhHHHHHHH

[hollandsangel]

2:15 am | c. sturniolo

HI yes im alive who’s surprised (me, i am)

self proclaimed mayor of the ‘chris can’t sleep alone’ club (doing gods work, you’re welcome)

summary: chris cant sleep & you’re the perfect remedy

wc: 834

gif by @hotelstares !

you haven’t been asleep very long. maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.

you’re in the midst of a fuzzy dream when your phone starts to vibrate on your dresser next to your bed. the sound is difficult to recognize at first, getting all mixed up with your dream in your mind. eventually it wakes you up, tugging you away from the soft haze you’d been emersed in.

groggily, you reach over for the device, squinting your eyes to try and read the contact. your eyes are bleary, but you’re able to make out your boyfriends name and contact photo after a brief seceond.

“chris?” you wonder through the line upon answering, voice thick with sleep and hardly above a whisper.

“hey ma,” his voice is smooth, like he hasn’t been asleep yet.

“hi…i think i was dreaming about you,” you say as you let your head fall back against the pillow, rubbing gently at your eyes with your other hand.

“yeah?” he says through a deep breath. the smile your confession elicits from him is audible and contagious.

“yeah, either that or i just spent the last four days with you and my brain hasn’t realized we’re apart yet,” you think he must be able to hear your smile as well.

“my brain hasn’t really realized it either,” he mumbles, getting a little bit shy.

you close your eyes, content being soothed by his voice.

“what time is it?” you ask him, even if you could easily look at your phone screen for the answer. opening your eyes feels like too much work.

chris answers of course, without hesitation, “2:15,”

“it’s pretty late, you okay, bub?” you ask him before answering your own question, “can’t sleep?” you know how he gets, always needing someone close by when he drifts off.

you can imagine it’s a bit difficult tonight, considering you spent the last few nights sharing his bed. you’d found it a little harder than normal too, having gotten used to his arms tucked around you, his face pressed against your shoulder blade.

“i miss you,” he mutters and it makes you blush, “and i don’t wanna crawl into bed with matt or nick, i know it won’t help,” he admits, letting out a long breath.

“you wanna come over?”

“would that be okay?” he seems a little bit embarrassed, like he might be inconveniencing you.

“of course, chris,” you open your eyes now, reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp, “i want cuddles now,” you say sheepishly, face still half pressed against your pillow, muffling the words.

“mmk, i’ll get an uber, be there soon,”

“kay, love you,” you sigh, waiting for him to hang up.

“love you too,” he says first, making you smile even if you’ve heard it a thousand times.

in the twenty minutes it takes for chris to show up, you’re drifting in and out of sleep, trying your hardest to keep the lull of exhaustion at bay as you wait, no matter the difficulty.

soon enough, the sound of a key in the lock sends a small jolt of wakefulness through you, and you anticipate the subtle push of the door as he comes through to your bedroom.

“nick or matt’s bed wasn’t good a enough?” you tease, watching him turn a little red as he shuffles into your room.

“i wanted to sleep in your bed,” he mumbles, beanie hanging low and covering his eyebrows, pajama pants hanging lower. he lifts the duvet and crawls in with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms, “nd’ i wanted to sleep with you, not my stinky brothers.”

you laugh, stifling it against the blankets “m glad you’d rather snug with me,”

“you kidding? you’re the best snugger around.”

“i’d say,” you hum, tugging his beanie off and tossing it somewhere on your floor.

he gives you a squeeze before reaching over to turn you so you’re facing him, “thanks for letting me come over,” he mutters, beaming in the low light. he looks so pretty like this, grinning down at you, illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp. he reaches up slightly and brushes your hair from your face.

you have a small moment of realization; he’s admiring you the same way you’re admiring him. you think your heart grows in size, gratitude making it swell up.

“thanks for comin’,” you whisper back, leaning up so your noses touch.

chris closes the gap, giving you a gentle kiss before pulling back and kissing your forehead too.

“night,” he tucks you against him, keeping you close, “i love you,” it’s sweet, how his tone changes. it’s tired now, chalked full of sleep and you can’t help but think it’s because he’s with you now, and that’s what puts him at ease enough to finally relax.

“i love you too,” you whisper into the barely-there space between you, watching as his eyes close and his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks.

you can’t help yourself, leaning forward just enough to kiss him there too.

.

.

.

.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @grimholic @tworosesblackthorn @mattscoquette @dazednmatthews @pinkishpearls

#stromboli #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[eddiesxangel]

dilf!eddie having jealously sex bc he saw his girl (not yet but anyway) on some date with a guy her age...

-🎈

It’s been weeks and you and Eddie’s schedules have yet to coordinate. He had his kids on the weekends and you’re always busy. You never give a reason you’re just busy.

So when Eddie entered the restaurant to get his pick up order he was a little surprised when he sees you sitting at the booth with a guy. A guy who was about your age Eddie guessed.

He gave the hosted a fake smile as his skin started to crawl as he watched the blonde hair blue eyed Chad looking fucker lean in and whisper something in your ear that’s made you laugh.

So this is why you’re “busy”

“Your food will be out in a minute sir” the hostess smiled and walked away.

This gave Eddie his opportunity to walk over.

“Fancy seeing g you here, babygirl”

You almost chocked on your drink as his deep baritone voice filled your ears.

“Eddie, um, hi.” You try and keep your cool.

No you weren’t avoiding him but this date had been planned for weeks, and you didn’t have the heart to cancel.

“Hey man” the douche nods to Eddie and he can’t help but roll his eyes. How on earth did his girl go for this chump? Eddie completely ignored him.

“Who’s this baby?” Your date turns to you. “Your dad or something?”

You almost choked again and Eddie sneered as the smug look graced your dates face.

“Can you give us a minute?” You turn to him.

“I don’t think— "

"listen to the lady." eddie glared and he looked so hot while doing it.

"I'll give you ten minutes"

"I’m sure thats how long you need" Eddie mumbled under his breath but you giggled.

Eddie stuck out his hand and you take it and he leads you around the corner to the alcove by the bathrooms.

“So….” You start awkwardly.

“That’s you type huh? Thought you wanted a more mature man?” He raises his brows.

“I-I mean…”

“What is it babygirl? He fuck you as good as I did?” He tucks a price of loose hair behind your ear. “I don’t think so.”

“How dare you!”

“You need to be reminded?”

The way your pussy clenched as his tone was a betrayal of your own. You missed his touch but he was being such as asshole you didn’t want to give in.

“Fuck you”

“Gladly” he leaned in and kissed you deeply.

You let a moan slip and you feel Eddie smirk against you.

Eddie dragged you into the bathroom and locked the door

“Eddie” you moan completely forgetting that you were on a date.

Eddie can’t get enough of you, he’s been thinking about you every moment of every day since that first night you hooked up.

“Need this tight pussy” he flips you towards the sink so you face the mirror. You watch intently as his hands wrap around your waist to in your pants and pull them down.

You wiggle your bare ass at him before his fingers run up your already wet slit. It didn’t take much for you to get ready when Eddie was around.

“So wet f’me already”

“Only you.”

“Yea only me? Not that Ken doll out there?”

“No eddie you! Only you!”

“That’s right babygirl.”

You hear the jingle of his belt and soon after his hard tip brushed through your folds.

“Eyes on me” he guides your chin to keep looking at him through the mirror as he plunges inside of you.

Your mouth falls open as he fucks into you, his hand moves lover, holding your throat in place as each brush of his cock feels so deep inside of you.

His grips on your hip is tight, his hand slinks down from your throat to your breasts and he squeezes it over and over again.

“Can’t get enough of you, like a fuckin drug”

“So big” you slur. Your orgasm hits you quickly and Eddie is cuming shortly after.

You feel a light smack on your bare ass before he helps pull your panties back up.

“Now you’ll think of me dripping down your leg while you finish this date.” He gives your ass another squeeze before slipping out the door without another word.

You take a minute to catch your breath and exit the bathroom to see Eddie with a takeout back heading out the door. You say a quick goodbye to your date, makeup some lame excuse about not feeling well and chase after Eddie while he is still leaking out of you

😌🤭🫨

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #older!eddie munson #older!eddie munson x reader #dlif!eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson imagine #tj’s mailbox #🎈 anon

[mrsshabana]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, age difference, angst, fluff, daddy issues, mommy issues, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. I want to thank everyone who was so excited for this fic, your kind words really encouraged me to write so much! I hope you enjoy it and keep an eye out for chapter two ♡

This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Gyutaro’s pathetic life since his sister was accepted into college. 

His life is nothing special really, and it never has been. Always taking care of his little sister was his number one priority so his needs and wants were always put on the back burner. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. With a face like that, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life? He’s thirty-five and has never had a romantic partner, but no surprise there. His personality is unpleasant and he doesn’t have much going for him. His job is alright and he can afford to support himself and his sister but that’s about it. 

By now he’s come to accept the fact that some things just aren’t in the cards for him. Things like a wife and maybe even kids. As he got older he found himself longing for these things more and more. Especially when he witnessed all of his friends getting married and starting families of their own. But now at his age, no woman would want to get with him, let alone start a family.

At first, he was mad at the world and everyone in it. It wasn’t fair that he was denied love just because he had a few spots on his face, crooked teeth, and was a bit rough around the edges. The jealousy and anger ate at him for many years, causing his personality to become bitter and cold. On the outside, he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about love, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Since he grew up without receiving any love from his mother, it was always something that he craved, even as an adult.

But he grew up, and he had no choice but to realize this was his reality and there was no changing it. It was hard to accept, but he’s finally come to peace with it. At least he has Ume, and honestly, he’s grateful for that. 

But now, you came into his life and things are beginning to take an interesting turn. 

You’re Ume’s friend from college, she’s a year older than you but you got to know her well in one of your math classes. Ume hates math so she waited until her senior year to take it, which she is starting to regret now. The only upside to the situation is that she met you.

Having gotten pretty close to Ume over the course of the semester, she would often invite you over to her place. You’ve heard her talk about her brother before but you had never met him since he was usually at work when you came over. But when you saw him for the first time, he wasn’t what you had expected. He looked a lot different than the image you had in your mind and he was a lot less friendly than Ume had described him. But even though most of the time he was in a bad mood, he’d be polite to you for the brief moments he was around. 

The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was and how deep and raspy his voice sounded. It was oddly attractive, especially when paired with his messy black hair. You knew he was older than Ume but he didn’t look that old. The only thing that maybe signified his age were the dark circles around his eyes, probably from being overworked. 

Gyutaro never expected to get close to his little sister’s best friend. It’s something he never would have considered, but your actions are causing him to rethink his stance on your almost nonexistent relationship.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

One night you’re studying over at Ume’s place again. The two of you sit in the dining room, with notebooks, pens, and textbooks spread across the table. Midterms are coming up so you’re trying really hard to get some studying done. Even though Ume keeps getting distracted and scrolling through TikTok.

You’ve almost lost your sanity with this study session when you hear the front door unlocking. 

Gyutaro, looking as tired as usual, walks into the house. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He barely even acknowledges you as he walks past saying, “Girls, can you please clean the table.”

“Mm hm,” Ume hums as she continues looking at her phone screen. 

He knows she isn’t going to do as he asks, but he always asks anyway. Today has been a long day and Gyutaro just wishes he could go to sleep but he knows he has a household to take care of. So he hurriedly rushes over to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Coming out with messy damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes straight to his bedroom, but you manage to catch a glimpse of him through the hall. 

The way his long hair sticks to his muscled shoulders and back distracts you. And even after he’s gone from your sight, the heavenly image is still stuck in your mind. 

“Will I ever get a break?” he thinks to himself as he puts on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, “As soon as I’m done cooking I’m passing out.” It’s only 8 pm but after another overtime shift, he’s pooped. Ume’s lucky he loves her so much, or else he would just make her eat a Lean Cuisine for dinner.

He doesn’t even bother to brush his hair and just heads straight towards the kitchen. But on his way, he’s met with something that surprises him. 

“You actually cleaned the table?” he says in shock.

“No, she did,” Ume points to you without even looking up from her phone. 

Gyutaro scowls and hits Ume in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper, “What’s the matter with you? It’s rude to make your guest clean!”

“Hey!! Cut it out!! I didn’t tell her to, she did it on her own!” Ume whines.

“Still, you should have cleaned it yourself,” he grumbles and throws the newspaper to the side, “Y/N, I’m sorry. Please stay for dinner, that’s the least I could offer you for helping my sister since she’s too lazy to do anything on her own.”

“No no, it’s ok! I don’t want to put more work on your plate -”

“I insist,” he smiles and begins preparing the ingredients. 

Ume pays no attention to the matter, as you admire her brother while he works away in the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a sip and sighs before he begins washing some vegetables. 

You sit there and stare at his muscles, admiring the way they move along with noticing the tattoo on his upper arm. The way his hair falls in his face, and he tries to push it away with his wrist while his hands hold ingredients. 

This is something you’ve never had before. A man who takes care of you. It’s something new for you, and quite frankly you’re a bit jealous of Ume. It must be nice to have someone who takes care of her like Gyutaro does. Especially since your father was never around, it feels comforting being in this kind of atmosphere with Gyutaro and his sister. 

The loud clattering of metal hitting the floor snaps you out of the trance you were in. It seems that Gyutaro dropped a knife because he had almost fallen asleep. You can see his eyes closing slowly as he shakes his head in an attempt to wake himself up. Even though you barely know him, the sight makes you feel bad for him. He must be so exhausted, yet he’s determined to make dinner for his little sister. 

“Hey, do you need any help?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen. 

“N-no, thank you though.” He tries to brush you off and continue cooking but you stop him, grabbing his wrist and taking the utensils out of his hand. “It’s ok really, you seem exhausted. Plus I like cooking so it’s no biggie!” You smile and try to lead him away from the kitchen.

“What? No! You’re our guest it’d be rud-”

“Onii-chan just let her do it! She’s offering, stop being so stubborn!” Ume chimes in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a bad host. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me, I just want to help out,” you lead him over to the couch and force him to sit down, “Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“But I-” his sentence trails off as he watches you walk away, not giving him any say in the matter. He feels incredibly guilty for letting you cook. But his body is too tired to fight it, and you no longer hear any complaints from him.

Looking around the kitchen you scan what Gyutaro had set up. There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, a pan with oil in it, some half-cut tomatoes, a box of pasta, and an unopened package of meat. You can only assume that he was trying to make spaghetti. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough and something you’ve made countless times before. 

After about 30 minutes you have all of the food prepared. You make a plate for yourself, Ume, and Gyutaro. 

“Thanks, Y/N!” Ume exclaims as she finally puts down her phone and takes her plate. 

Next, you walk over to Gyutaro to give him his food, but he’s already passed out on the couch. The bottle of beer still in his hand, half full. 

“Poor thing,” you whisper to yourself, “Guess it’ll just be Ume and I for now.” You take the plate to the table and eat with Ume, opting that it’s probably best to let Gyutaro sleep. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

His stomach rumbles and his eyes are heavy as he slowly opens them, looking around at his surroundings. Confused for a moment as he forgot where he was. The living room is dark and quiet and he can’t quite remember why or how he fell asleep here. 

But then he looks over at the coffee table and remembers everything. His bottle is placed aptly beside a plate full of delicious looking pasta. Neatly wrapped in plastic wrap with a note reading, Enjoy! :)

“No way,” he mumbles as he tears off the plastic and begins to dig in. His eyes roll to the back of his head when the delicious food hits his tongue. Things taste so much better when someone else makes them. And honestly, he can’t recall how many years it’s been since someone has cooked him a meal. Five? Possibly ten? Either way, he savors the moment.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That meal has been on Gyutaro’s mind for days now. Never forgetting the taste and the gratifying feeling of eating a meal that was carefully prepared by someone else. It was amazing. And you’ve been on his mind ever since that night.

He told Ume to thank you since he didn’t have your number, and he really hopes she actually did it and didn’t just blow him off like she usually does.

As he drives home from work he can’t help but think of how nice it would be to come home to one of your home-cooked meals. It’s become a fantasy of his to imagine this on his drives home after a long shift. The thought brings him some comfort even though he knows it will never become a reality.

And just as he was driving through downtown he saw someone familiar. It was you, standing beneath one of the street lights as a strange man loomed over you. He appeared to be talking to you, but your body language looked as if you were very uncomfortable with the situation. 

The strange man appeared to be around Gyutaro’s age and all he could think was, “C’mon man, you’re too old to be doing this shit to a young girl. You should know better.” He rolls his eyes and pulls over next to the sidewalk. 

With a deep, tired sigh, he gets out of the car and yells, “Hey Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

At first, the sudden voice calling out to you startles you, but as soon as you see that it’s Ume’s brother you feel like you’ve been saved. The strange man looks over at Gyutaro too, giving him a confused look.

“We’re gonna be late for that movie,” Gyutaro smiles as if everything is normal and walks up to you, “Oh, who’s this? Do I know this guy?”

“Uh n-no, I don’t think you know him,” you say nervously. 

Gyutaro nods and takes your hand, “Sorry man, but we gotta go. We’re gonna miss the premier if we don’t get going now.” 

The stranger seems convinced and walks off as Gyutaro leads you back to his car. Opening the door for you, as he watches the man walk away. Making sure he’s gone for good. 

You don’t hesitate to get into his car, a huge wave of relief washing over you once you’re safely inside. 

As soon as Gyutaro gets into the car he scolds you, “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” His eyes scan your form, and he notices you’re wearing a short dress.

“I was out with some friends,” you say shyly, “and I wanted to go home, but everyone else wanted to stay out…” 

He sighs and starts the car, “You can’t walk around like that, creepy guys are gonna flock towards you. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I was so stupid for doing that… B-but thank you so much for helping me, Gyutaro! You really saved me there,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you imagine what might have happened to you if Gyutaro never showed up. 

“Hey hey, it’s alright,” his expression softens, “You’re ok now, that’s all that matters. And from now on if you need a ride just call me, ok?”

“R-really? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re Ume’s friend. I’d do it for Ume so I’d do it for you too. Besides, I work around here so it’s no big deal,” he smiles and hands you his phone so you can put your number in.

“Thanks. Ume’s really lucky to have a big brother like you,” you say as you finish creating your contact in his phone.

“I try my best I guess, heh if only Ume heard you say that. Anyway, where do you live?”

“Oh, right! It’s super close to here,” you type the directions into his phone navigation, “I really owe you for this, Gyutaro! What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Wh-what? No no no, you don’t have to do anything,” he gets a bit flustered as he begins driving towards your place. 

“Come on! You did so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Ooh, how about I cook something for you?” You raise your eyebrows and smile, trying to convince him. 

When he hears your plea, it’s like his prayers were answered. 

“... well, I can’t say no to that.”

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The long-awaited day has finally come. The day that you will bring over some home-cooked meals to Gyutaro’s house. He’s been anticipating this ever since you promised it to him.

You come over holding tons of containers of food, much more than he had expected. 

“Woah, let me help you,” he says as he holds the front door open and takes one of the bags out of your hand.

“Ah, thanks. I didn’t realize how much food I made until I had to pack it all up,” you laugh and walk into his home. Placing the food on the table, you neatly snack boxes of prepared meals. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a bit confused. He was expecting you to bring over a big container full of food, not a bunch of small ones. 

“I know you work a lot and stuff. So, I thought it’d be better if I packed everything up into individual meals so you can just grab them and take them to work. Less prep work for you. I hope that’s alright…”

Gyutaro is truly left speechless, unable to believe that you not only put so much effort into this but also so much consideration as well. Still in disbelief, he takes one of the neatly packed boxes and opens it up. Inside he’s met with a delicious meal separated neatly, and even a small dessert tucked into the side. The sight is beautiful, but the smell is what really makes him salivate. 

“Wow,” he smiles, “I-I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you.” 

He begins to choke up. After so many years of taking care of his sister, always worrying about her needs, caring for her, stepping up and being that guardian that she needed, never once did someone stop to ask him what he wanted. Let alone go out of their way to take care of him. And for once, just once, he gets a taste of what it feels like to be cared for. Nurtured. And it’s a feeling he wishes he never had to let go of.

All of the emotions he’s kept in for so long finally pour out of him. Your kindness and consideration force his walls to crumble. And his eyes begin to water as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask as you immediately notice that something isn’t right.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, “I-I’m ok,” he rasps, “Just… I really appreciate you doing this. It’s been so long since someone has done something for me…”

“Well, you deserve it,” you smile and try to comfort him by rubbing his back, “I can tell you work really hard. My mom is the same way. So I understand.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and quickly composes himself, “A-Anyway, I’m going to try one right now. It smells great.” He quickly tries to change the subject partially because he’s embarrassed, but also because he genuinely cannot wait to taste your cooking again.

The food still feels warm so he rushes into the kitchen to grab a fork, and he sits at the table and digs in. Immediately as the food hits his tongue he lets out a groan of satisfaction. 

“Mmph, ooh my god,” he says right before he shoves another spoonful into his mouth, “so good!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile and sit beside him at the table, “These recipes are super easy and budget-friendly, so I can give them to you if you want.”

“Please! Mmph, that’d be great,” he swallows another big bite, “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“I just learned over time. It’s always just been my mom and I, my dad was never around,” you sigh, “So I kinda had to learn how to take care of myself since my mom always had two jobs. I would always make food for us to ease her workload. And I’ve always enjoyed cooking so I never minded.”

“Wait, for real?” he looks surprised, “My mom was never around! Man, it fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So you understand how I feel!” you smile despite talking about something upsetting, “So, your dad was the one that raised you?”

“Basically,” he nods as he licks his fork clean, “My mom wouldn’t let my dad come around much, even though she wasn’t around much herself. I was pretty much on my own till my mom  died and my dad took us in.”

Watching him talk about his past, you get the impression that it’s something he doesn’t often talk about. His body language alone is enough to tell you that. But the two of you feel some type of connection having shared a similar childhood experience.

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” you smile, “I think he’d be very proud of you.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and appreciation. “Thanks… he really was the best. But sometimes I just wish I could have had a normal family.”

“Yeah I totally get it,” you sigh, “That’s why I always told myself I’d try to give my future kid the best life I can.  I want to give them the childhood I never had…” You trail off, thinking about the future you hope will become a reality one day. 

“Exactly!” he shouts, “That’s exactly what I told myself too! I always wanted a family so I could do things right.”

He seems excited at first but his expression quickly shifts to one of sadness. 

“But it’s too late for me to have a family,” he continues, looking down as he opens up about one of his biggest failures, “Oh well, if Ume ever has kids I’ll just try to be the best uncle I can.”

“Why would you say it’s too late?” you tilt your head to the side, confused.”

“Y/N, I’m thirty-five years old. I’m too old to start a family… Besides most women my age are done having kids. Not that any woman would want to be with me anyways.” He frowns, being reminded of how he failed to fulfill one of the only dreams he’s ever had. 

“Why not just start a family with a young girl, like me?” You ask without completely realizing what you’re saying. 

“Wh-what?” his eyes widen, completely taken aback by your statement. Could you be insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating? He’s not sure whether you’re just naive or completely delusional. 

“W-Well um,” you blush as you begin to realize what you’ve said, “I think you’re a really great guy. Any woman would be lucky to-”

“Get out,” he cuts you off. 

“I’m sorry-”

“GET OUT!” He raises his voice, striking fear into you to the point where you feel your eyes begin to water. 

You feel utterly embarrassed and ashamed. Just when you were starting to get close to him too, you had to say something stupid to ruin it all. Honestly, you have no idea what you were thinking. You will admit you did have a crush on him, so maybe your heart just got excited and took a risky leap of faith. But unfortunately for you, it backfired. 

Without another word you rush out of his house as fast as you can, balling your eyes out. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚. 

It’s been a few days, and Gyutaro has been ignoring your texts. They stopped coming after that first day, and even though he didn’t respond he still read them. Reading your apologies over and over. He couldn’t get the situation out of his head no matter how hard he tried. So he decided maybe he needed an outside opinion. 

He finds himself sitting at a bar, drinking a beer. Rubbing his rough hand across the stubble that’s grown on his face as he’s been too stressed lately to bother shaving. Honestly, he looks pretty rough. He’s caught up in his self-sabotaging thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Gyutaro! How’ve you been, man?”

He turns around with a smile on his face, “Hey Kai, what’s up?” He stands and gives his best friend a side hug. 

“Gyutarooooo, do I get a hug too?” an annoying voice chimes, a voice that instantly gives Gyutaro a headache. This voice could only belong to one person. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him too,” Kaigaku laughs nervously.

“Douma…” Gyutaro deadpans.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Douma smiles wide, giving Gyutaro a one-sided hug. “So, spill the details! Kai said you had some juicy gossip to talk about!” He says as he sits beside him at the bar, placing his hand under his chin and batting his long eyelashes. 

Kaigaku takes a seat on the other side of Gyutaro and mumbles, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro sighs and takes a drink from his bottle, “I really just wanted some advice. Just promise you won’t make it weird.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” Douma asks. 

Gyutaro just stares at him, thinking of all of the times he has indeed made things weird. 

“Come on man, just spit it out already!” Kaigaku nudges his shoulder. 

Gyutaro groans and slumps over in his seat, “Alright alright. So, there’s this girl-”

“A girl?!” Both of his friends say in unison. 

“Shut up!” Gyutaro growls, knowing exactly why his friends are so shocked. Because out of all of the years they’ve known him, he’s never once brought up a girl. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “There’s a girl I kind of like… she’s really sweet and we have a lot in common but…” he trails off, hesitant to tell them the truth, “She’s only twenty-one…”

Kaigaku chokes on his drink.

“I don’t see an issue,” Douma says, genuinely confused.

“Of course, you don’t,” Gyutaro mumbles under his breath. 

“How the hell did you get into this situation?” Kaigaku coughs.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t pursue her at all!” Gyutaro scowls, “Listen, she’s one of Ume’s friends. She comes over a lot and she’s been really nice to me. She even cooked a bunch of meals for me too…”

“And? Spill it, Shabana!” Douma pouts, getting impatient. 

“AND, we were talking about what we want for our future. I told her I wanted a family one day but I’m too old… and she said why don’t I have a family with a young girl like her. I immediately told her to leave. I’m starting to think maybe I overreacted…”

“Well, girls that age are very fertile!” Douma chimes as if his statement was completely innocent.

“STOP!” Gyutaro shouts, “That’s fucking weird, man! Don’t say it like that!” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…” Kaigaku mumbles. 

“Hey, it’s true! I am a gynecologist after all, it’s just medical facts! And she’s right, having children with someone your age will be much more difficult and there could be complications!” Douma asserts confidently.

“The fact that you’re a gynecologist disturbs me,” Kaigaku says. 

“Me too,” Gyutaro adds. 

“Come on guys! It’s not as weird as you think. Why would it be so wrong to date her?”

“For starters, she’s fourteen fucking years younger than me! That’d be creepy right…? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo or a creep,” he frowns, starting to feel like maybe he is a creep for even considering something with you. 

Kaigaku takes a sip of his drink, thinking long and hard about what advice he should give his friend. Especially since Douma is useless. 

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, “At the end of the day you’re both consenting adults. And since when did you care about what other people think of you anyway?”

“You have a point,” Gyutaro replies, “But she should live her life instead of wasting her time with an old guy like me.”

“First of all you aren’t even that old,” Kai rolls his eyes, “And second of all, she’s an adult who is fully capable of making her own decisions. If she wants to be with you, then she wants it for a reason. Maybe she wants a guy who is at a more stable point in his life. Who knows?”

“Exactly, Kai’s right. I see age gaps much larger than this all the time, it’s more common than you think,” Douma adds. 

“And besides, it would only be creepy if you were talking to her when she was a minor,” Kaigaku states, “Like if you’re an adult talking to a minor, then wait till they’re an adult to pursue them romantically it’s a little creepy if you ask me. But you didn’t even know her at all until now. So don’t worry man. You aren’t creepy or weird for liking this girl.”

Gyutaro feels a wave of relief wash over him as he listens to his friend’s explanation. It's the first thing he’s heard that actually made him feel a bit better about the situation. “So, you really think it’s ok for me to pursue her?”

“Hell yeah! Be happy, man. I know you’re not the kind of guy to go after a girl just because she’s young. She sounds like a really nice girl, and I’m happy someone finally sees what a great guy you are.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Gyutaro smiles, “Alright, I guess I’ll go for it.”

Gyutaro feels a newfound confidence overtake him. His friends are right, he shouldn’t be so caught up in the details when the fact of the matter is that a really amazing woman is interested in him for the first time in his life. And he cannot let this opportunity slide, as it may be the last chance he has at happiness. 

“Who knows, maybe she’s one of my patients!” Douma chimes in out of nowhere.

“Shut up, Douma! God, I can’t take you anywhere!” Kai growls. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That night you receive a text from Gyutaro, “Do you want to go to the botanical gardens with me this weekend?”

When you first read the text you had to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming. Why would he say that all of a sudden? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? Or maybe he’s inviting you out just so he can tell you off in person. 

You aren’t sure which one, but you’ve been so stressed over this situation that you’ll do anything to make up with him. So you hastily respond, “Yes! I’d love to :)”

Immediately you regret how eager you sound in the text, thinking that it might make Gyutaro think you're even more childish. But in reality it makes him smile knowing that someone is excited to see him for once.

“Ok. I’ll send you the details,” he responds a minute later.

Is this a date? That’s the only question that keeps replaying in your mind. A date with Gyutaro, your best friend’s older brother. The whole thing feels taboo, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel even more excited.

Taglist: @gyusimp @mistyychann @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @hoshigafuru @matsukaah @merryclaus @whisperhug97 @dawn-rays-dingo

(I tagged people who showed interest in my previous posts. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. The next chapter will have smut so if you want to be tagged make sure you have your age listed on your blog ♡)

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyuutarou #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou x reader #ume shabana #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #age difference #kaigaku #douma

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧜🏻‍♀️What’s Your Signature Style? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

I promise you that you can be “THE” SLAYEST when you rock a style that is your own. A style—or styles—that is your own is one that reflects outwardly the core essence of your Soul Expression.

If you know yourself, and acknowledge your unique Light, there is not a trend or fad in this mortal realm that could ever shake your confidence in what you’re already doing!

Remember, trend-makers are never individuals known to follow trends to begin with! Are you a satisfied with yourself for being a trend-follower? Gosh, that's such loser NPC behaviour. I know you're so much more than that, you su-su-su-Superbeing❣️❣️

SONG: Supernova by aespa

MOVIE: 千年女優; Sennen Joyuu (Millennium Actress) (2001)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Bitch Barbie

VIBE: Jackie (2016)

core spiritual essence – Knight of Wands Rx

YOLO, Spiritual Gangsta! You’re a badass bitch who’s actually a lot nastier and vainer than outer appearances may give LMAO You’re such a drama queen, too. You wake up in the morning and ready to stir up some shit. You’re naughty. You’re playful. You’re creative and a bit of a prankster to the detriment of some of your closest friends. And if you have an enemy, you’re the type that’d pour gasoline on their motorbike and let them catch fire on their own!

You really like colourful stuff. Since you were a kid, you’ve always been interested in cute or weird shapes and bling knickknacks. Colours and shapes are integral to your fashion expression as a means to let your passion through. From another angle, this is also how you show people not to take you lightly. You’re attracted to weird or bold shapes and vibrant colours because they also send word to the outer world that you’re not one to mess with.

You LOVE being seen as a weirdo. It benefits you to be seen as a BITCH, too. This is a form of self-preservation AND protection. You want to weed off boring people who are only there to feed off your precious spiritual creative aenergy! You’re the school’s boss bitch who says, ‘You can’t sit with us,’ to practically everybody because you value only strong and weird, high-quality bitches who are just like you. Deep at your core, you keep to your tribe and will protect them with your Life <3

people’s first impression – XIV Temperance

You’re an enigmatic character who’s admired and feared at the same time. Because you have such a strong presence, unbeatable charisma, people can’t help but be attracted to your aenergy. And for the most part, you’re really somebody who has a pleasant smile and good manners. People’s first projection of you might be along the lines of being a good gal LMAO You seem at first glace a temperate person who adheres to social protocols. I mean, that’s only because you’re chill~

But try and get on your bad side? The psychopath takes over. You’re very serious when working towards your goals and you don’t like it when people bother you with unwarranted criticisms or unsolicited advice. You like figuring things out yourself unless you ask for other people’s opinions. When people see this side of you, then they understand you’re not all that friendly or welcoming and that they’ve been blinded by their own expectations.

From afar, people can tell you’re meant for great things in this Life. Since you’re quite unapproachable to many, they may never say this to you but they gossip amongst themselves and speculate about what such a unique person like you could achieve in this world. They shudder when thinking about all your potentials! How can such a smart badass even be real?? It feels so unfair…

fatal attraction! – Ace of Pentacles

You’re the type that should never buy fake designer items. Buying cheap-ass things that are your style is one thing, but buying fake luxury items? NAH, NO. Your Venus will cry. Check out what your Venus sign says about your values as a person and try to match your fashion style with that. For the majority of you tuning into this Pile, being bold in all the ways that suit you is the way to go. Price is not necessarily key here, it’s boldness that plays into your self-expression.

You’re the kind of person who can wear colours and accessories that usually will make other people look like clowns XD People wonder what enables you to pull off those strange colours, shapes or combinations, not knowing it’s your CONFIDENCE in yourself being able to pull them off that makes them work. It’s the RIZZ, baby~ No matter what you look like, no matter your size and skin colour, you have the power to make WHATEVER you wear on you look like something they show on the runway.

I betcha you get a lot of requests to model for your photographer friends? XD Some of you reading this have even modelled casually before. And some of you are meant to be scouted into the modelling or fashion industry in general! If not to that degree, you’re still the kind of person who could make occasional appearances on fashion magz or insta or have your face be a poster for something quite creative. You should charge good prices for your contribution to people being able to sell their shit! v$o$v

A MILLION DOLLAR STYLE~🔻💙

vanity – Silver Geographer (Francis Drake)

sassy – Priestess of Integrity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Brooding Maniac

VIBE: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

core spiritual essence – 4 of Cups

You one spooky bitch XD But truly, your Soul is full of colours if only people could see it! It’s just that these are colours most people won’t understand or even approve of. You possess the ability to feel and process immensely complex emotions as well as thoughts. It’s more like you think in feelings even if you identify as someone very logical. Your emotions often get heavy if you don’t learn to control them. And…you’ve really taken it to quite an extreme how well you can control or suppress your emotions now.

Some of you reading this probably have strong Earth placements, especially Capricorn, but could also have some Scorpio and Aquarius influences. The way you feel your emotions is quiet and almost…jaded. I think your Soul gets easily tired by Humans for their lack of intelligence but also for their lack of appreciation for different varieties of Beauty. You think most people are narrow-minded; just thinking about it is super exhausting.

That’s why you don’t easily show your colours to everybody. People’s disapproval of the depths of your emotions could kill your spirit on a daily basis. You’d rather not deal with that, so then you chose to sport a lot of black in your outer appearance. You could also be the type that chooses solid or ‘dull’ colours like grey or white, essentially to just…not tell people anything. The only other way you actually show your emotions, in a subtle way, is through some colours that could be found in your accessories and…HAIR <3

At least some of you dream of having colourful hair if only your society or workplace would allow that XD

people’s first impression – 8 of Cups

Instantaneously, people get this impression that you’re elusive as fuck. Like, you’re not exactly unapproachable—no, no—it’s more like, even if people try to talk to you, they already think you’re the type that won’t respond too well. You seem like you don’t talk much if at all, and people get this feeling that you’re uncomfortable with being talked to. Kinda feels like, you’re ready to flee the scene the moment someone comes up to talk to you BUHAHAH Most likely because you give off this nervous/awkward energy in social situations XD

As for your fashion, you dress so uniquely, out-there-ly, alien-ly, and people simply can’t catch up. They know they won’t be able to copy you, at least not properly. You possess a strong and unique aura that shines through your fashion sensibility and you don’t even try that hard if you’re being honest. And yet, anybody who tries to emulate or copy you will 100% look like a cheap knock-off of whatever style you’re rocking.

There is something about you that screams ORIGINAL. And yet, this is mostly caused by your lack of interest in other people’s business. You have this cold, detached aura that makes you stand out in a crowd exactly because you don’t give a fuck. At first glance, people think it’s your fashion—your clothes and accessories, your hair or nails that make you look ORIGINAL. Maybe even you think that. But no, it’s your brooding AURA that says so. You’re a maniac who ain’t interested in mingling, that’s why~

fatal attraction! – Queen of Wands

You’re a divisive character who’s either despised or admired, to an extreme. There’s no in between. Seems, indeed, like some Scorpio/8th House aenergy or some harsh Plutonian aspects XD To varying extents, and depending on your mood on a given day, people’s extreme reception of you could be mentally draining. The way I see it, you yourself don’t even understand why people are damn drawn to you. You kinda wish people would leave you alone. At least the ones you don’t care about.

But…you definitely are incredibly pretty. You have a very attractive face, you know that? And then there’s your fashion sense that tells the right kind of people that you truly are a creative/artistic person who has many stories to tell because you feel very deeply. And yet, you don’t talk to people at all and that’s mystifying. Meanwhile, the haters are also attracted to your aenergy because something about your originality is a direct insult to their lack of AUTHENTICITY ho ho ho~

You give people a reason to connect and unite in their petty hatred and that’s very refreshing for those types of people to talk about LMAO Ain’t you a hero, my dear? Anyway, this may sound so random but I’m getting that you might wanna hang out at some art gallery or library? You could meet someone or see an ad/announcement for an event that could change your Life for the better! Your brooding style could get you some unique opportunities that could potentially make you very happy <3

A MILLION DOLLAR STYLE~🔻🧡

vanity – Silver Alchemist (Ramon Llull)

sassy – Priestess of Inspiration

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Pile 3 – Plutonian Siren

VIBE: Flesh and the Devil (1926)

core spiritual essence – 8 of Pentacles

Daym, you’re a total hustler babe, aren’t ya? For one, at the core of your being you know that you were born into this world with a strong purpose. When you were a kid, you probably didn’t have the words to describe this knowing but it was clear to you that you weren’t supposed to fit in or be ‘normal’, whatever ‘normal’ meant within your norm XD You’ve always been the kinda person who deviated from your mainstream society. You couldn’t help it; you just had to be an anomaly.

Truth be told, you’ve a strong Sirenian spirit (if that’s even a word). You’re like a combination of a bitch barbie and a brooding maniac. You’ve a strong dark Plutonian and chaotic Neptunian aenergy about you and this is SCARY to a lot of people. If you grew up in a toxic household, I betcha an adult in your ‘family’ despised you for just being you. Could be a mean uncle or auntie as well if you had a good relationship with your own parents ;P

Did you know that in some literature Sirens were actually not mermaids? They’re more akin to evil harpies? XXD You’re an evil harpy at your worst and a singing mermaid at your best. I tell you people shouldn’t mess witcha. The karma will be heavy on them because you essentially come from a strong lineage of powerful witches! <3

people’s first impression – 9 of Cups

Wherever you are in the world, when you walk, you’re like a dream come true. You possess a natural charm that transcends race, culture, localised standards or whatever. In every situation and all nations you are beautiful, magnetising and charming. Your sheer existence makes people daydream. I’m sure you’ve heard this a lot, ‘You smell really nice.’ ‘Y/N always smells nice.’ ‘When you’re around it always smells nice.’

You’re so fucking unreal for this mortal world. Due to your Neptunian aenergy—could also be strong/significant 12th House placements—people project on you without a care for your feelings. Or should we say, they project on you without a care for their own safety? When somebody crosses the line, you snap like a sea dragon and they’re done, forever LMAO

As much as people are intrigued by you they are afraid of you. There is this depth to you that makes people suspect that once they’re in they’re never gonna be able to crawl out of your aenergy field. You’re kinda like Tomie now that I think about it. So the ones who are able to sense this swirling darkness in you will try to steer away from your charm~ Good for them because most of the time, you don’t even like it when people are up in your ass non-stop XD

fatal attraction! – 5 of Pentacles Rx

Of all the Piles, your natural charm is definitely chaotic. It’s almost demonic! Yours is a fatal attraction for sure because you will cause insanity in the minds of whoever tries to get a taste of your aenergy. And you’re out here chillin’, completely clueless as to what’s going on with the idiots around you. Why’s everybody simping? I ain’t even do nothing.

For whatever personal reasons, most people have this fantasy about you saving them from whatever boring Life they’re living. Some really sick minds could expect—even demand—you to be their stupid little Pixie Dream Girl when in reality you’re the FURTHEST thing from that. People could get SO dangerously unreasonable when it comes to desiring you.

I’ve got to say that you’d better protect yourself good, girl. Do everything in your power to steer away from bitter and jealous aenergy, because the people under your involuntary spell might indeed endeavour to cause you harm. Beware of men who could assault you and women who would trick and tarnish your reputation. I’m reminded of this quote by Claude Debussy:

‘People don’t very much like things that are beautiful… they are so far from their nasty little minds.’

For being such an unrealistically beautiful creature with an aura of mysticism, lots of people are attracted to your magnificence because they want to make it their own or destroy it, not because they appreciate your existence. Be selective with who you allow to get to know you~ <3

A MILLION DOLLAR STYLE~🔻💚

vanity – Green Astrologer (Robert Fludd)

sassy – Priestess of Love

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[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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[seeingivy]

long story short

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

songs mentioned: saturn by sza, so american by olivia rodrigo, lover by taylor swift, good luck babe by chappell roan, margaret ft. bleachers by lana del ray, make you feel my love by adele, false god by taylor swift, only angel by harry styles, and long story short by taylor swift.

an: buckle in friends. songs and tweets and all :D

previous part linked here

six months later

The two of you decide that it would be smarter not to stay in the townhouse, for the time being. Because while Eren had bent backwards and forwards to buy the house without Levi noticing – which included paying a hefty tip to the realtors dealing with the sale – there was something too melancholy about staying there – and not having a plethora of voices echoing across the walls. 

Eren’s first plan – to stay in the cabin in Ireland that his parents owned – was your next best bet. And really, it was the quietest little patch of land, accompanied by what might be the coziest town you’ve ever been in – and it was every bit of perfect. 

The cabin was two stories and maybe the uniquest little house you’ve ever been in. With gold accents, a green kitchen, and what might be the prettiest garden –  it was almost far too easy to pretend that you and Eren had left the bright shimmering lights and camera flashes behind. 

Eren’s morning usually starts hours before yours – only because he insists that he has to run in the mornings to get a good start to the day. If you’re in a good enough mood, he’s able to coax you to come with him and the two of you choose to walk instead. Sometimes you wonder if Sukuna and Teddy talk about the same thing on their walks that you and Eren do. 

The neighbors are either too old to mention anything or perhaps too polite. Because they show up here and there, unassumingly with a fresh loaf of baked bread, that they simply couldn’t let go to waste. And their kids that you happen to see on holidays, their eyes linger for a little too long – almost like they’re trying to convince themselves that it really is the two of you – but never make a comment about if they ever do get the shred of confidence. 

There’s a kid, barely eleven, who brings homemade yogurt around on Friday, as an errand before he can go play with his friends. Sometimes Eren makes him late to his basketball games, because he finds himself lingering by the door too long, talking about things that are entirely lost to you. Though you should have figured as much, because Eren was always popular with the kids.

And you find a stray cat three months in – one that Eren lovingly names Milo. A tiny british shorthair, with light green eyes and white fur. Upon first inspection, you told Eren jokingly that you simply had to keep him, because he had Eren’s eyes. Eren took the joke a little too seriously, but the little diva that Milo ended up being always kept things interesting. 

The only thing annoying about the cabin is Eren’s placement of the furniture, specifically the well loved coffee table that, in your opinion, needed to be centered in the main room. And that’s only because every morning, you’d get your breath nearly knocked out of your chest when you walked straight into it. 

“You know, you need to move that goddamn coffee table.” you grumble, rubbing at the side of your hip. 

Eren looks over, before placing his hands on your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. It’s a lingering kiss that he presses to your knuckles, as you use your free hand to rub at your eyes, before looking over at the pan. 

“Connie’s on his way?” you ask. 

“An hour out.” Eren responds. 

“Okay, I’ll go set the clothes out. Anything specific you want?” 

“The green hoodie. That you stole and thought I didn’t notice.” Eren grates. 

You jump off the counter, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek, before padding back into the room and setting the clothes aside. And it’s only a few minutes before Eren’s at your side, giving you a half-appreciative smile for returning the hoodie. 

“Are you nervous? You know he’s going to have a meltdown right?”

Eren scoffs. 

“Serves him right for what he did. Walking around talking about his girlfriend – you know, I’m half convinced she doesn’t even exist, Y/N.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“He’s literally bringing her along. You should have at least told him I would be here so you know…he doesn’t have a heart attack or something.” 

The two of you took the idea of privacy too seriously. A little too serious, because now six months had passed and most of your friends didn’t even know you were together. And really, the two of you were very close to getting found out since you had an awards show to attend at the end of the month. 

If Eren was any bit as hopeless as the neighbors mentioned, they would have the two of you figured out within a split second. 

Levi and Hange knew, naturally. And then Colt and Falco, and by extension Gabi, since Falco seemingly could keep secrets, just not from her. And it extended out slowly – your parents, his and Zeke, Lana and Sukuna, and Jean and Mikasa. 

Lana and Sukuna was an accident. Because Eren had been calling Teddy and you accidentally walked in the background. Jean and Mikasa were similar and only because you accidentally let his name slip from your mouth when you called them after their honeymoon. 

The secret was well kept, but you knew the news was about to spread around to everyone, because Connie was about to find out, when he realized that you were living here with Eren during his little visit. 

“Well, it serves him right. He’s about to tell everyone we know. Because he’s going to have to tell Reiner, who will tell Annie who obviously can’t keep it from Armin and it’s just going to snowball from there.” Eren mutters. 

You shake your head at him, as the two of you pad out to the front where Eren’s left the plates of eggs steaming. You shuffle into your chair – making it a point to slam your notebook shut – and naturally, the gesture doesn’t get past Eren. 

“What are you writing?” Eren asks. 

“Nothing.”

Eren grins. 

“Are you writing a song about me?” Eren jokes. 

You roll your eyes. And Eren’s too quick with it – guising it by putting his arm around your waist – but he all but snatches the book from underneath your elbow. And he looks to you for confirmation before he starts flipping to the page he was looking for you can see the recognition clock on his face, before he looks over at you.

“Saturn, hm?” 

You take the book back from him, running your fingers over the inked lines and the tiny drawing in the corner. 

If karma's really real How am I still here? Just seems so unfair I could be wrong though If there's a point to being good Then where's my reward? The good die young and poor I gave it all I could

Stuck in this terradome All I see is terrible Making us hysterical There's got to be more, got to be more Sick of this head of mine Intrusive thoughts, they paralyze Nirvana's not as advertised There's got to be more, been here before

Ooh (ooh, ooh) Life's better on Saturn Got to break this pattern Of floating away Ooh (ooh, ooh) Find something worth saving It's all for the taking I always say

I'll be better on Saturn None of this matters Dreaming of Saturn, oh

It plagues Eren, in the smallest of ways. It was almost like he could tell that on certain days, the reality of it all seemed to wear you down, to the point where you really didn’t say too much and spent far too much time by yourself outside. He figured this is the closest he would get to really understanding what it was like for you, in the two years that you spent by yourself. 

And it does really bother him, that this is the only thing he can’t help you with. Because having six months of the still, quiet life gave you time to think, to really process everything that had happened. 

And it was chilling. Because it would almost be easier, if this wasn’t the only thing plaguing your mind. But he had asked you time and time again and the answer was always the same – that you didn’t have any regrets, about how the two of you came back together, the relationships that you repaired, or even the havoc you wrecked at the award shows. That really, they were all means to an end. 

But there was one regret you did have, and maybe in the cruelest of ways, it was the one you couldn’t put to rest in this lifetime – which was taking Marco for granted. 

The smaller things helped – the sweet stories about him in the two years you missed, the voicemail that Eren had gifted you at the funeral, and all the polaroids you pulled off the wall. But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, it was the only piece of it all that you hadn’t been able to rectify yet. 

“Yeah, Saturn.” you respond. 

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” Eren asks. 

You wrote songs about Marco often. And Eren read all of them, helping you work through piecing together the composition. But one of the songs – one you called Bigger Than The Whole Sky – seemed to concern Eren so much that he left a tiny little card on your pillow that night. 

With the number to his therapist. 

Eren doesn’t say much, only because he knows it’ll fall on deaf ears, and that sometimes with you – sometimes his hands in yours are the only thing that he can offer. And the quiet offer of the therapist he gave was more of a think piece for you – hoping that you’d at least give it a chance someday.

But the resolve of it all is quickly shattered when the doorbell rings – with Connie and his girlfriend behind the door. 

Eren sighs. 

“Are you ready for everyone to know our secret?” Eren asks. 

“No. And yes. I’m kind of just excited to watch him kind of have a meltdown.” 

Eren grins. 

“You and me both. I’ll go get him.” 

You pad into the kitchen, reaching for two empty dishes and plating the extra eggs for them as you hear Connie hollering at the door, and relish in the little wave of excitement that rises in your stomach. 

“Okay, well. I made breakfast so just kind of help yourselves. Do you need the bathroom?” Eren asks. 

“We’re good.” Connie responds 

Eren gives you a bright and glimmering two dimpled smile as he stops in the kitchen, before looking over at Connie who now looks like he’s some mix of constipated and fraught. 

“I made you guys some plates. I do hope you still like eggs, Connie, because we haven’t had a chance to do groceries lately.” you respond. 

Connie’s eye twitches as you give him a bright smile before walking closer and opening up your arms. And he’s almost too confused – because he barely hugs you back before turning to Eren. 

“What’s she doing here?” Connie asks. 

Eren smiles. 

“You’re not the only one with a secret girlfriend, Connie. Two can play that game.” Eren responds, as he takes the plates and gestures for Connie’s girlfriend to follow him to the main table. 

Connie pauses, before looking over at you. 

“You guys are pranking me, right? Because I didn’t tell you? Because that’s in no way funny.” Connie asks. 

You point to the polaroids pinned on the fridge – a mix of old and new – before turning back to him. 

“While we do love to mess with you, even we wouldn’t be that committed to a bit like this. Now come eat, you’ve had a long flight.” you respond. 

Contrary to your wishes, Connie, in fact, does not eat. He spends the first ten minutes staring the two of you down – to the point where it’s almost creepy – before asking you an insane amount of questions. 

When did you start dating? 

Or better yet, when are you getting married? 

How does it feel to be a traitor? 

And it’s only after an insane amount of questioning, before he slumps back down into his chair, before offering the two of you a sweet smile. 

“You’re really dating, right?” Connie asks. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“That’s the tenth fucking time you’ve asked me that. I’m starting to think that it’s insulting – is it really that shocking to you that a pretty girl would date me?” Eren asks. 

Connie rolls his eyes right back. 

“Yeah, when that pretty girl spends her time being just as clueless as you.” Connie responds. 

You avert your gaze to your left, where Connie’s girlfriend – Maryam – is sitting and give her a smile. It’s one that she returns right back, before whispering underneath Connie and Eren’s bickering. 

“You’ll have to forgive him. This is a really big deal to him.” she mumbles. 

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware. He’s spent half of his young life trying to play cupid, I would only assume that it’s overwhelming to finally see your dreams come true.” 

She gives you a smile, as you elbow Eren in the side, and signal for him to stop. 

“Speaking of cupid, how did you and Connie meet?” you ask. 

It’s horribly bad timing – because the big sip of water she took goes immediately back in the glass as she gives Connie a weary glare. And he gives her a bright grin, before turning back to you. 

“See, it’s kind of funny. She –” 

“Connie!” she whispers. 

“What? You’re going to have to tell them eventually.” Connie responds. 

“Yeah, but I just met them. This is the kind of stuff you tell people years later, as in "haha want to know something crazy?” not like…two seconds after you meet them.” she whispers back. 

You and Eren turn to each other, giving each other a look, before turning back to Connie. 

“They won’t care, I promise.” Connie responds.

She gives him a weary look, before turning back to the two of you with wide, doe eyes. 

“Listen. I swear to god, I’m not a stalker. Y/N, I didn’t even know you were going to be here…and…and I didn’t even know I was like…talking to Connie before I was talking to Connie.” 

Eren interrupts her. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks. 

She sighs, before lifting her palms and burying her eyes in the heels of her hand and Connie, for some unknown reason, seems to be enjoying himself a little too much. She gives you both one last look, before dropping her hands. 

“I met Connie on stan twitter.” 

“What?” you ask. 

“Well, he was one of my mutuals. And I…I always talk to my mutuals and we used to text all the time. And then I started really liking him and…and we made a deal to kind of meet up when he was in New York. And then I showed up and he was just fucking standing there. I knew for years that Connie was on stan twitter since he always used to accidentally send his burner tweets to his main but…I didn’t think I was talking to fucking Connie.” 

You and Eren bite down on your cheeks, fighting the urge to laugh. 

“Connie, I think you’ve finally met your match. This is kind of perfect.” you respond. 

“I know, right?” Connie responds, giving you a bright smile back. 

“You didn’t like…think he was punking you?” Eren asks. 

“Oh, I totally thought he was punking me. It was only until he mentioned all the things that we had talked about, over the years mind you, that I actually realized it was him I was talking to all this time. And it started to make more sense, because he always seemed to know more about things that were happening than what was kind of shown on the surface.” Maryam replies. 

You shake your head. 

“So who did you run a fan account for? Was it Connie?” you ask. 

She pinches her face. 

“Right. Well, I…I actually ran a fan account for you. Both of you. You’ve actually both interacted with me on Twitter…multiple times.” 

You slam your fist down on the table. 

“Oh my fucking god. You’re THE fan account girl. Your username is y/n jaeger and you…you have that green profile picture?” you ask. 

“Holy shit. We’ve like literally talked about you multiple times.” Eren adds. 

Connie takes his free arm and slings it around her shoulder, before flinging it around her shoulder. 

“Told you, they literally don’t care.” 

“I swear though, I’m really not a stalker.” she adds again, almost like she’s entirely embarrassed. 

You and Eren shake your heads. 

“Well, you didn’t even know I was going to be here.” you respond. 

“And you didn’t even know that the person you were talking to on Twitter was Connie.” Eren adds. 

“And for what it’s worth, if I remember right, you’ve been one of the people who’s been defending us since the start – especially when it wasn’t a very popular thing to do. Which is something we’re really grateful for. And well…I’m happy if Connie’s happy, which he very clearly is.” 

Connie gives her a smile, one that she returns, before turning back to you guys. 

“I know it’s kind of silly, but I just really liked you guys. I was really into fashion when I was a kid and I really liked your stylists. And then I watched your show and listened to your music – and I just really loved it. Classes and medical school and all that would get really stressful, but it was fun to talk about the little hints that you seemed to leave in your music and the beautiful documentary you made.” 

You and Eren turn to each other and smile. 

“We appreciate that, really. And well…this kind of worked out perfectly, because we might need your help in a few months.” you respond. 

“With?” she asks. 

Eren sighs. 

“We kind of want to keep the public off of our tails for some time. While we’re fine with telling our friends now –” 

“You better be fine with it because I already told Reiner and Sasha.” Connie adds. 

Eren gives him a glare before turning back to Maryam. 

“I know you have a lot of followers and if…if you made it seem like…” 

“Like you guys weren’t dating, other people would believe it.” she finishes. 

“Yeah. We’ve just spent so much of our relationship out in the open, we…we kind of want to share it with everyone when we’re ready.” you add. 

She smiles. 

“I’ll do what I can.” 

Connie helps you make dinner on the last day of his visit – only as a gesture to thank the two of you for your hospitality and for finally getting back together. It gives Eren time to show Maryam the final scripts of Attack on Titan that he has saved, delighting her by sharing all the scenes that got cut or edited in the final season. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Connie asks. 

“Sure.” 

“Are you happy?” 

You smile. 

“Very happy, Connie. Really.” 

Connie gives you a smile, before leaning forward. 

“But?” he asks. 

“No buts. I am really happy.” 

“I don’t doubt that, but…surely there must be other things you’ve been thinking about. I feel like there’s something else kind of lingering in your…aura.” 

“Don’t talk to me about auras, Connie.” 

“You’ve got a weird and off putting vibe every time I interact with you on your own, princess.” 

You sigh. 

“Did you talk to Eren?” you ask.

“No. I can just tell. So there is something that’s bothering you?” 

You pause, abandoning the spoon in the pot, as you look down at the mix of noodles. It’s a pink sauce – one that Connie swears by – that included a decent amount of the leftover vodka that you and Eren had gifted to you by the neighbors. You made a passing joke that Jean and Mikasa would love this dish and it made Connie laugh so hard he nearly burned his own hand off. 

And you’re not sure where it comes from but before you know it, there’s hot tears pouring out of your eyes and Connie’s warm arms around you. And it’s a quiet whisper that you’re able to muster out in response. 

“Yeah. There’s something bothering me.” you respond. 

“Well, no shit, princess. You’re getting snot all over my shirt. What is it?” 

You fight the urge to laugh at the sarcasm before pulling back and looking up at him. 

“Marco.” 

Connie sighs, before giving you a nod.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Connie responds. 

You pause. 

“I just…feel like something’s wrong with me. Everyone else seemed to have moved forward from it or…or seem like they’re handling it better than me.” 

“I think there’s different circumstances. What you have to move on from is entirely different from what the rest of them do.” Connie offers. 

You heave another sigh, using the back of your hand to wipe the wetness away. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What you went through was entirely different than what someone like…Sukuna struggles with or Eren for that matter. They’ve had their fair share of struggles, but yours is just different than theirs. That means you can’t compare the two. They talked to them right until the end. And because of your circumstances, you didn’t. It must be hard not to blame yourself for it.” 

Connie pauses. 

“When I was struggling after rehab, being…being around things like that again, at afterparties and stuff…I found it really hard to even keep my head level in situations like that. It was so overstimulating…so overwhelming, that I found myself locking myself in my house alone with her for a week.” 

“You sound like me.” you respond. 

“That’s exactly the point. Sometimes things are so overwhelming that you can’t do anything but that. Locking yourself in the house till you have a bearing on it. And people like Sukuna and Eren, I…I almost envy them sometimes. They find a way to keep moving forward when all I can find myself doing is standing in one place and staring at myself from the outside in.” 

“Eren’s really hopeful. And I know deep down that he is right. That Marco wasn’t mad at me, not in the slightest. But…I can’t help but be mad at myself. I feel like sometimes I’m reliving the entire thing over again.” you respond. 

Connie smiles. 

“You sound like me.” Connie murmurs. 

“You seem fine, though. For the most part.” you add. 

Connie reaches forward, cupping the side of your face. 

“I’m lucky enough that the people I’ve wanted to make amends with are still here. But even then, that wasn’t enough, not for the blame. Sometimes…you need a little extra help. And really Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

Connie’s ears seem to ring in your ears as you watch him and Maryam drive away. And even more so when you and Eren settle in for bed that night and he reaches over to shut the light switch. 

You reach for Eren’s hand, locking your fingers in with his in the sheets, before squeezing three times, a gesture that he returns. 

“Eren?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do…do you still have that card that you gave me? A few weeks ago?” 

Eren leans closer to you and you take the invitation to crawl into his open arms. 

“Of course I do. Did you want to use it, sweetheart?” he whispers. 

The warm tears return and Eren’s quick to wipe them away. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

--

At the end of the month, Connie’s beloved girlfriend helps devise the best plan known to man. Which involved a little bit of acting, lying, and theatrics – something you and Eren were no strangers to. 

It was fairly obvious, after everything that had happened, it would be hard to make people believe that you and Eren hadn’t ended up together. And she figured it would only work if you admitted to the fact that you were dating other people and really sold it in your last press tour and awards campaign that you were soulmates – but in the platonic type of way. 

It’s why you spent three weeks in the press talking about your new beloved boyfriend, Bruce, who was just a normal guy that you met at your recording studio. Coupled with the newest song you released – so american, something Eren most definitely wouldn’t call you – people were quick to switch the breaks and think otherwise. 

Eren was doing the same, fawning in any and every interview, about his sweet new girlfriend Margaret, one of the assistant costume designers that he met on the set of Attack on Titan. About how she was the sweet love of his life, who had shown up right when he needed her. 

It wasn’t an entire lie. 

Besides the fact that it really is so fun to pretend in plain sight, the awards show was the first time that the group of you got to be together again. You were seated right next to Lana and Sukuna – the former of which is exuding the sweetest glow from her baby girl that’s due any week now and the latter who has a set of choice words for you when you take your seats together. 

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just fucking tell people?” Sukuna mutters. 

You smile. 

“Simple. We don’t want to.” you respond. 

“Yeah, but your boy toy is about to win the award of his dreams, again, and you’re about to be ten feet away getting cock blocked by lesbians.” 

You smile. Eren, in all of his brilliance, was nominated for the Best Actor in a TV Show, yet again. And truly, it was no competition – you were all positive that he was going to win, something that he wasn’t so keen about himself. 

“We can hear you.” Ymir mutters. 

“We can switch seats if you want Y/N, for that part. If you want to sit next to Eren.” Sofia adds. 

You give her a smile, before sinking back into your chair and looping your arm through Ymir’s – who was going to be accompanying you as the opener on the Birds of a Feather tour, with her lovely Sofia, who she married last weekend. 

“Where are Jean and Mikasa? I have an itch to get blackout drunk right now.” Ymir mutters. 

“No point in trying.. They’re already back there and borderline blackout drunk with empty flasks already..” you respond. 

“Figures.” 

“They pressed some really wet kisses to my cheek earlier. If I didn’t love them, I would find it absolutely disgusting.” you add. 

You give Ymir and Sukuna a light nudge at your sides, before standing up to the group of people walking up to you. 

“Oikawa, right? From Haikyuu?” you ask. 

He towers over you, looking down at you as he offers you a smile. 

“That’s right. We’ve replied to each other a lot on Twitter.” he responds. 

“Right. It’s nice to meet you in person, again. I feel like we’ve probably walked past each other a bunch of times, but…it’s nice to talk.” 

He smiles. 

“Listen, I was planning on telling you this last weekend, but I’m planning on bringing my girlfriend to your opening show next weekend. She’s a really big fan…and she’d love to meet you.” 

You place a hand on his bicep, and really, only because you can’t reach his shoulder. 

“Of course. I’ll get you a seat in the VIP tent with everyone else coming, okay?” 

“What was last weekend?” Sukuna asks. 

Oikawa turns to his left, giving an entirely unassuming smile.

“Hm?” 

“You said you were going to ask her last weekend.” Sukuna clarifies. 

“Oh! Right, I just figured you’d be at Historia’s wedding that’s all. But she told me, it really is a shame that you were all too busy.” 

You’re dumbfounded as he gives you all one last smile, before walking away. And Eren and Connie are quick to join you at your sides, Eren’s hand ghosting across yours at his side. 

“What did that tool want?” Eren asks. 

“Did Historia tell you that?” Sukua asks, to which you shake your head.

“Was he hitting on you? I’ve seen him on Twitter, don’t even get me started.” Eren mutters. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, this is so not the time to be getting your panties in a twist.” Sukuna responds. 

“What did he say?” Connie asks, nudging you in the side. 

“Historia got married. Last weekend.” Ymir states, an almost gravelly tone to her voice. 

Connie and Eren give you a weary look, before turning back to her. 

“She didn’t invite any of you and told all the guests that you guys were all too busy to come. Too busy to come because you were at my wedding, with the date I've had set for months now.” 

Sofia stands at Ymir’s side, looping her arm in with Ymir’s as she offers a small smile. And it gets worse – because the horribly timed news made you all forget that Historia was the opener for the show that you wer eall sitting at. 

You can’t help but admit it, but the willowing white dress that she wears is beautiful. But there’s a part of it that haunts you, almost like she’s a ghost instead of a bride, as she takes the center of the stage with a pink guitar and a glimmering ring on her finger. 

“My name’s Historia Reiss. This is my newest song, everyone – it’s called Lover.” 

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my Lover

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Oh, you're my, my, my, my Darling, you're my, my, my, my Lover

You watch as Ymir sinks into her seat, securing her own hand in Sofia’s, as you look over at Eren. And in the few seconds that you have between the commercial break, before you have to head backstage to announce the award, you lean forward and place your chin on her shoulder. 

“Are you okay, Ymir?” you ask, shooting Sofia a pinched smile over the way. 

“She’s fucking insane.” Ymir mutters. 

You’re taken off guard by the hostility. Only because in every rehearsal that you’ve shared with Ymir, she’s all but remorseful for how things ended with them – and even moreso, was looking forward to being friends again. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“She’s trying to piss me off. I’ve heard that fucking song – it’s one she wrote about me when we were still filming season three.” 

You wince, sharing a look with Eren, before turning back to her and squeezing one of her shoulders. 

“I don’t know what her problem is. If she’s trying to make me feel…regret over what I did last weekend, that’s far from it. I have no regrets about the people or the person I’ve chosen for myself. She can sing herself sick about it if she wants to.” Ymir finishes. 

“Good for you.” Connie states. 

“Huh?” Ymir asks. 

“Good for you. Really. You know what you want and you’ve had it by your side this entire time. If she wants to be bitter about it, she can go right ahead. That won't stop you from having that by your side or make her feel any better – and I’m sure she’ll realize that eventually.” Connie finishes. 

You give Connie a smile, before gesturing to take your open seat as the ushers arrive to take you backstage. And you’re met with the sight of Hange and Levi – with a glimmering golden trophy and an envelope in their hands. 

“He won, didn’t he?” you ask. 

“We don’t know.” 

“Do you think they’d like kill me if I opened it?” you ask, as Levi places the glittering envelope in your hands. 

Hange smiles. 

“In all seriousness kid, I think they’re kind of anticipating you will. WIth you as the announcer and us handing over the trophy, it’s fairly obvious they’re expecting something great.” Hange responds. 

You give the two of them a smile as you turn over the envelope, breaking through the latch of the sticker, and pulling the little cardstock slip out. And surely enough, it’s in bright, bold letters. 

Best Lead Actor in a TV Show - Eren Jaeger, Attack on Titan: The Final Season 

You look up at them and smile, trying to contain that scratchy feeling in the back of your throat. 

“He did it.” you whisper. 

They both give you bright smiles as they link in their arms with yours, the three of you waiting for your cue at the side of the curtains. And on their mark, the three of you walk out into the bright lights, as you scan the crowd for where Eren’s sitting – noting the bright smile on his face and the wink he offers you. 

“I think the fact that I’m standing here, with Hange and Levi at my sides, is proof that one of the best actors of our generation has won one of the most special awards here tonight.” 

And you watch as Jean and Connie’s eyes go wide, as they reach forward and secure their hands on Eren’s shoulders, jostling him as he brings his hands up to his cheeks – in utter disbelief. 

“While he’s winning an award for acting tonight, I truly do think that the recipient is a jack of all trades. Because he’s been so involved in this beautiful show – from picking the co-star in his first chemistry screen reading, to bringing life to the pages, and at the end, actually writing them. It’s been a joy to watch him in his element for the last ten years and really, to share such a big part of my life with someone who is so special.” 

You look down at the envelope, pulling out the slip again. 

“The award for Best Actor in a TV show goes to Eren Jaeger, Attack on Titan: The Final Season.” 

It’s an obscene amount of hollering – mostly from Reiner, Connie, and Jean – as you watch Eren hug Gabi and Falco before pressing a kiss to Lana’s cheek and making his way to the stage. And it’s almost too sweet – getting to watch the lingering hugs that Hange and Levi give Eren, before he turns to you to give a polite hug. 

You take the few seconds you have to say your piece. 

“Hey. Guess what?” you whisper. 

“What?” 

“I told you so. All those years ago.” you respond. 

Eren presses a kiss to your cheek, before the three of you all shuffle off to the side, and watch Eren from a few feet away. And you watch as he runs his hand nervously through his hair, before looking down at the award. 

“I promise I’ll make a speech this time.” Eren starts. 

You all laugh, as he looks over at you, before turning back to the crowd. 

“I…I truly have no words for what this show has meant to me and what it has brought me. Almost ten years ago, two writers turned screenwriters, for whatever god awful reason, saw a film in which I had all but ten minutes of screentime before I got killed off. And for some reason, it spoke to them – so much so that they decided to make me the lead of their show. It seems strange at first, but they’re the first people I find myself being the most thankful for, because they’re the only reason that anything after came. I’ve made…” 

Eren’s voice cracks and you swallow hard. 

“I’ve made lifelong relationships and…and a real family. I’ve had the privilege of meeting my partner in crime, Connie, the sweetest friends I’ve ever had, Jean and Mikasa, and maybe one of the only people who understands me best, Armin. I’ve met maybe one of the most important people in my life, Y/N L/N, who gives definition to being the best friend and partner everyday, and most of all, I’ve met the love of my life, my sweet Margaret. There are no words for how thankful I am, really. Thank you so much.” 

There’s a resounding sound of cheers as Eren links his arm in with yours and the four of you clump together backstage. And in the few seconds of quiet you have, you reach forward and cup the side of his face before pressing another kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m so happy for you, Eren. You dream came true – the right way this time.” 

Eren smiles, before linking one of his hands in with yours. 

“You next.” Eren states. 

You scoff. 

“Leave it to you to make your award about me. Just be happy.” you respond. 

“I am happy. But really, you’re next.” Eren states. 

“You can’t become triple threats twice, Eren.” 

“You know, I’ve happened to write very convincing letters in the past. To have them accept demos from me on behalf of you, to consider you for awards for years on end. I think I’ll try my luck on that one and see where it gets me, sweetheart.” 

--

The following week, Eren’s standing by your side backstage with Sofia on the other side, in the mere minutes before you perform. If your timing was correct, Ymir was halfway into her set and seriously killing it, meaning that you were going to follow in under an hour. 

Gabi and Falco are the first ones to greet you backstage – and the first guests on the Birds of a Feather tour. 

When you think back to the past, all the memories of touring are the worst. Because the only thing you can remember is your legs shaking from the exhaustion, your ears deaf from the screaming, and your chest hurting from the pain – before you were dragged onto stage another time by Danny and Sareen and forced to do it again. 

It’s why you kept the tour relatively short by your standards, with thirty-six shows, and your friends by your side. 

If they wrote the songs with you, they could perform them with you too. And while Glue Song was technically Gabi’s request, Falco’s the feature – so it was only fair to let both of them sing it with you on the first day. 

And you watch from far as Eren stands behind both of their little vanities, hearing the ends of their conversation – as Eren reassures both of them before taking pictures of the two of them together. And it’s almost like he can see you watching him, because he turns to look over his shoulder, before offering you a smile and walking over. 

“Not that people know, but you and I are kind of the first ladies of the Birds of a Feather tour.” Sofia states. 

“What do you mean?” Eren asks. 

“My wife is the opener. Your girlfriend is the main set. We’re the first ladies.” Sofia states. 

Eren snorts as he reaches for the back of your hair, readjusting it against your bodysuit, before giving you a smile. 

“Ready?” 

“I think so.” 

Sofia gives the two of you a sweet smile, as she loops her arm in with yours and leans her head against your shoulder. And three songs in, you feel her tense you at your side. 

“Oh god. Here it comes.” Sofia murmurs. 

“Here what comes?” you ask. 

She turns her head to the side, confused. 

“She didn’t tell you? She added a new song to the setlist, it’s…about Historia.” Sofia responds. 

“Does she know that Historia’s actually here in the tent? With her husband?” 

Marcus, Historia’s newly wedded husband, was nice. It’s really the only word that you could use to describe him, because honestly, it didn’t seem like there was much else going on besides that. He mentioned a plethora of niceties when you met him hours prior – that he had missed you at the wedding, that he had memorized all the songs before the show started so he could fully enjoy it – and that was it. 

You could tell that he didn’t have the faintest idea about Historia and Ymir, or Historia at all. 

But he was kind. And he wouldn’t hurt Historia and you supposed that was all that mattered.

“That’s kind of the point, Y/N.” Sofia mumbles. 

The three of you inch closer to the edge of the stage, just out of view of the curtains, as you watch Ymir’s visuals change – bright graphic letters spelling out Good Luck, Babe! 

It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth And guess I'm the fool With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

I don't wanna call it off But you don't wanna call it love You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

You look over at Eren, who is crushing your hand to oblivion at your left, before turning back to Sofia. 

“Jesus Christ.” Eren whispers. 

“I can’t even blame her. Historia came for blood last weekend.” 

“That’s not even half of it. It gets worse.” 

You and Eren widen your eyes, before leaning forward and paying attention again. And it’s insane, because Ymir’s crouching on the ground – before she fully lies down and starts belting into the microphone. 

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife And when you think about me, all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so" You know I hate to say, "I told you so" You know I hate to say, but, I told you so 

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling (well, I told you so) You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

--

a year and a half later 

After almost two years of being married, Jean and Mikasa welcome a baby girl, named Olivia, in October. And on her fourth week of life, they invite all of you over to meet her in Seattle. 

You’d be lying if it didn’t fill you with dread. 

“Why are you freaking out?” Eren asks, reaching down to adjust the charms of your necklace, the Saturn charm now accompanied by an ocean wave, against your collarbone, before looking back up at you. 

“Babies don’t really like me.” you state. 

“You know, they can kind of sense when you’re all…tense and stuff. Just relax when they ask you to hold her.” 

You groan. 

“Jean and Mikasa can keep their empath baby to themselves. What do you mean it can sense if I’m stressed?” 

“You’ll drop her if you’re being too stiff. Just cradle her head against you.” Eren responds. 

“That’s exactly why I can’t hold her!” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“She’s basically like your niece. You’ll have to hold her eventually.” Eren deadpans. 

“Maybe when she’s older. Fully conscious and talking and stuff, you know. Like Teddy.” 

Eren sighs, almost acutely aware of how hopeless you were when it came to this, from the way you acted with Lily. Except Sukuna was far less faith in you than Jean and Mikasa and agreed with you every time you refused to hold her out of fear. 

Eren locks his hand in with yours as he drags you to the porch, only to be met with Zeke and Carla answering the door. 

“You’re finally here!” 

Eren’s mom pulls you forward, nearly side sweeping Eren and trapping you in a crushing hug as you give Zeke a pained look at your side, to which the two of them only laugh in response. And when Carla lets go, she brings her hands down to your wrists, before squeezing. 

“You’re a vision in yellow! This dress is beautiful, Y/N.” 

“Mom. You’re laying it on a little thick there.” Eren mumbles, placing his hands on her shoulders before pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Shut up, Eren. This is the closest I’ve gotten to having a daughter.” Carla states. 

You look over at Eren – entirely aware of how much his parents, or more specifically Carla had been, about how he needed to propose soon. But Eren rolls his eyes as he walks off, greeting Lana and Teddy in the kitchen as you turn back to her and wrap one of your free arms around her. 

“Did you see Olivia yet?” you ask. 

“She’s beautiful. Oh, she looks just like Jean.” 

“Well, that’s a shame.” you respond. 

“I heard that, twerp.” 

You look over to find the source of the voice – a very tired Jean, with a stubble and a well grown out mullet – glaring at you. But the second you look at him properly, he gives you a smile as you run forward, wrapping your arms around him as he returns the gesture. 

“Hi, Mr. Dad.” 

“That’s the best you could come up with? Mr. Dad?” 

“Saying just Dad is weird. But I had to acknowledge the fact that you…have a whole child just out here and breathing and stuff.” 

“Wow. You really have such a way with words.” Jean states, as the two of you trail down to the kitchen, where Eren and Jean do their weird handshake. 

You feel a tugging at your legs, before you pick up Teddy who leans his head against yours. 

“You get bigger everytime I see you, kid. 

“I’m a growing boy.” Teddy shrugs, as you turn to Lana and laugh. 

“He’s getting every bit of sass from Sukuna.” Lana states. 

“I can tell.” you respond, before turning back to him. 

Sukuna presses a kiss to your cheek as a greeting, before Connie and Reiner join the group as well and do the same. 

“How are you today, Teddy? Did you see baby Olivia yet?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” 

You smile as you turn over to Eren, who leans against the counter and watches the two of you from a few feet away. He fights the urge to take a picture – only because Sukuna would tease him into oblivion – and makes a mental note to ask for one like it later, of Teddy snuggled in your arms and resting his head against your cheek. 

“Did you like her?” you ask. 

“She’s cute. For a baby.” 

“You wanna tell Y/N what you told me, Theo?” Sukuna asks. 

Teddy sits up, turning to Sukuan with confusion. 

“Tell her what, Dad?”

“About what you did when you saw Olivia.” Sukuna clarifies. 

He turns back to you, a smile on his face. 

“I held baby Olivia all on my own.” 

You turn back to Sukuna and Eren, the two of them laughing with irritating smiles on their faces as you stick their tongues out at them. 

“Oh, be quiet.” you murmur. 

“If my literal child can carry that baby, so can you.” Sukuna states. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, before taking Teddy from your arms. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink.” Sukuna states. 

“I’ll come with.” you respond. 

The two of you walk quietly out to the little backyard, as you fill three glasses of lemonade and hold one out to each of them. 

“So do you just not want kids in the future?” 

“What? Of course, I do.” you respond. 

Sukuna snickers. 

“Are you not going to hold your own child?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Pump the brakes, Sukuna. Eren and I aren’t even married yet.” 

“Speaking of. Are you two ever going to tie the knot?” 

You shrug. 

“We’ve talked about it before. It’s definitely in the cards but I told him that he should wait until he feels ready. And things are really nice now, the way they are. I figure he’s just soaking in it all.” you state. 

“Would you say yes if he proposed?” Sukuna asks. 

“Are you crazy?” 

“I mean…you’re saying that you told Eren to wait until he was ready. There’s no doubt you will of course, but are you ready for that?” 

You nurse the little glass of lemonade close to your chest, before looking up at him and smiling. 

“I’ve been waiting to marry him since I was like sixteen. Of course I’m ready.” 

Sukuna gives you a smile, before gesturing for you to follow him back inside where Eren’s waiting for you patiently. And you can tell by the excited smile on his face and the way that he grabs your waist exactly where he’s leading you next. 

“You should be excited. This is literally both of our best friends, in one person.” 

“I am excited. I just want her to like us, that’s all.” 

When you enter the room, it’s quiet – with Levi, Jean, and Mikasa’s mom by the crib and Mikasa sitting in the bed, rearranging the little toys. 

You and Eren beeline in different directions, with him heading straight for the baby and you heading straight towards Mikasa’s side. And you can’t help but do it – reach forward and cup her cheeks before hugging her full on. 

“Mikasa, you look so cute.” you mumble, as she nearly crushes you with her death grasp of a hug. 

Mikasa pulls back, rolling her eyes, as she eyes your dress. 

“Are you saying I look different after Olivia?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“You’re all full in the face. With rosy pink cheeks. It’s adorable.” you whisper. 

“Well, you’re quite adorable too. This is a beautiful dress – I’m going to side sweep Eren and propose first if he doesn’t get around to it.”

“I heard that, Mikasa.” Eren deadpans, from his far corner of the room. 

“That was the point, goofy.” 

Eren frowns as he walks over to her side, offering her a hug before sitting down with the two of you. 

“Goofy is the best you’ve got?” Eren asks. 

“There’s a baby in the room. I can’t exactly call you an asshole now, can I?” Mikasa whispers.

You both giggle, only to be stopped by the glare that Levi gives the three of you, as you clear your throats. 

“She’s perfect, Mikasa. She’s got your eyes.” Eren states. 

“Oh thank god. Carla gave me a heart attack downstairs when she told me the baby looked like Jean.” 

It’s only then that Jean walks over, with the tiniest bundle of little pink blankets in his hand, that the three of you stand up. And you take the natural position, standing slight behind Eren as he looks up at Jean, eyes wide. 

“Can I hold her?” 

“Dude, go ahead.” 

You and Mikasa share a look, irritated by their nonchalance, as you watch Jean carefully transfer Olivia over to Eren’s arms. She’s quick with it – securing all five of her tiny fingers around one of Eren’s fingers as he laughs, looking over at you. 

And Eren’s quick to notice that despite all your self-proclaimed fears about holding babies and giving birth, you have the same curious look in your eyes that you had when you met Lily. 

“Olivia, my name’s Eren and this is Y/N. Your parents are basically the coolest people we know.” Eren whispers, almost like he’s not trying to disturb the quiet peace in the room. 

“Well, not your dad. He could use a little help in that department.” you respond. 

“Stop badmouthing me in front of my child.” Jean responds, reaching forward to flick you on the forehead. 

But it’s right at that second that Olivia lets out the quietest little coo, before readjusting in her little blankets. And it’s enough to make the group of you laugh, teary eyed smiles from you and Eren, as Jean walks over to Levi and hands him the camera to take a picture of the five of you, together for the first time. 

And in the thirty minutes that Eren spends holding Olivia and whispering with Mikasa, it’s the free second that you take to talk to Levi. 

“Look at you. Trying to butter up Mikasa’s mom.” 

Levi glares. 

“She’s my sister.” 

“Right. I kind of forgot about that.” 

Levi rolls his eyes, as the two of you look out of the window, at the group of them all chattering downstairs. You can’t help but smile at Teddy and Lily sitting at the table, who are showing a very interested Ymir and Connie all of the drawings that they’ve allegedly done together. 

It was mostly Teddy of course, but he just liked to include Lily in everything he does. Which is something you’re told that Sukuna and Yuuji do together all the time – and it makes your heart warm all the same. 

“Is there a reason you never had kids, Levi?” you ask. 

Levi smiles. 

“Hange can’t have kids.” Levi states. 

You feel your throat dry the slightest, as you look over to the left, where Hange and Sofia are playing a very intense game of chess. 

“I didn’t know that. I always figured that you two weren’t…”

“A lot of people did. And I suppose that made it easier, because it really did break our hearts that we didn’t get to have any.” 

You smile, before leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“If it makes you feel better, I know that myself and fifteen of my peers have always seen you as a father figure.” 

Levi smiles. 

“It does actually. Only because my self-proclaimed children are all so talented that I have so much to brag about.” 

You press a kiss to Levi’s cheek as Eren beckons for you to join him downstairs, now that Olivia’s fallen asleep. And you all but oblige, trying to memorize the sickeningly sweet kiss that he gives you on the way down. 

“Do you ever think we’re going to have kids?” Eren asks. 

“Eren. You’re basically like born to be a dad.” you whisper. 

“What?”

“Every kid we’ve ever met loves you. Of course, we’re going to have kids. I’ve even taken the liberty of naming them already.” 

Eren gives you a confused look, before knocking on your forehead. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” 

“Hilarious.” you deadpan. 

“No seriously. I’m shocked Mrs. Scared of Pregnancy because of Reddit threads from when you were thirteen is saying this to me right now.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to make your way down the stairs, before he pulls back, pressing a kiss to your cheek as a consolation. 

“Okay, I’m joking. But tell me the names.” 

“No. You’re being rude.” 

“Come on. They’re going to be my children too. I want to hear it.” 

You sigh, crossing your hands over your chest, as you look up at him. 

“If it’s a boy, we’re going to name him Marco.” 

Eren smiles, giving you an approving nod, as you twist the rings on your pointer finger. 

“And if it’s a girl, we’ll name her Maya.” 

“Maya?” 

“Well, the plan is hopefully that we have a boy and a girl. We’ll name our kids after Marco…and his favorite poet, Maya Angelou.” 

Eren leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“That’s a deal.” 

--

Two days later, you and Eren seem to right a historical wrong, in your long winded history, in the mere hours before you attend Lana’s album listening party.  

By visiting the Seattle Aquarium, the way you were supposed to all those years ago. 

It was your idea when you made your weekend plan to be in Seattle. Because Eren had three extra days before he started shooting and before you headed back to New York to record with Niccolo – and it only felt right. 

Despite your horrible track history of attendance, the owners of the Seattle Aquarium granted you entry on Sunday, the day they were closed, and offered you the place for the entire day. Though you suppose, it’s only because you’ve given them such gracious donations over the past years. 

When you walk in, you run your fingers over the bronze plaque as Eren looks over your shoulder, admiring the lettering. 

With special thanks to Bruce and Margaret, whose generous donations have benefitted our environmentalist efforts and preserved over forty-five species of fish over the past year, nearby in the Pacific Ocean. 

Eren takes your hand, the two of you taking the little blankets and pillows, and setting them up right in the center of the aquarium, before you lie down against the little makeshift fort you made. 

And you’re not sure what it is – the dim lights and the overwhelming blue – or the fish swimming all around you and Eren in their not so little fishbowl, but you can’t help but feel the strangest sense of nostalgia. That a few years ago, you saw Jean and Mikasa get engaged for the first time, and it pushed you so hard that you were ready to confess to him under these same lights. 

“Do you ever think about what would happen if we actually ended up coming here last time?” you ask. 

Eren looks over at you, pressing a stray kiss to your forehead, before messing with one of the strands of your hair. 

“Sometimes. I figured we’d have to fight out of there someway, just in a different way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Eren pauses. 

“They’d run a slander campaign against you. They’d probably dox Falco and Colt and your parents would get in the crossfire by proxy.” Eren murmurs. 

“Yeah.” 

“I figured they’d probably give Connie all the big roles so he wouldn’t have any reason to leave. Everyone would know about Lana and Teddy and well…I don’t know if Sukuna would be on our side the way he necessarily ended up being.” 

You lean closer to him, interlocking one of your free hands in with his. 

“I don’t know if we’d stay together.” 

“We’d stay together.” you murmur. 

“Yeah. I do figure it would be harder though. We kind of lucked out, twice, with how isolated the set was and then the cabin.” 

And Eren reaches into his pocket, wrapping one of his free hands around you as he opens up a little green box, to a glimmering diamond ring. 

“I figure this would happen farther down the line if things went that route.” Eren mumbles. 

You’re taken aback as you sit up in the little pile of blankets as Eren follows suit, a sweet smile on his face as he presses the little box into your hand. 

“I don’t necessarily know how things would have ended up if we got to be together all those years prior. All I remember, really, is watching you drive away from me and feeling like I had just experienced the loss of my life. For a second time. It only feels right to me that we get to promise to seal the deal here, for good, like we should have all of those years ago.” 

Eren takes the box from your hands, plucking the ring out of its little slot, and takes your hand in his. 

“Will you marry me?”

You can’t help but lean forward, nearly knocking him back down into the pillows as you press a kiss to his lips, which he smiles into. 

“I’m taking that’s a yes?” 

“Oh my god, Eren. Yes, obviously.” 

Eren sits up again, this time carefully securing the ring around your finger, before lifting your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles. 

“Did you tell anyone you were doing this?” 

Eren shrugs. 

“I asked for your parents and Falco and Colt’s blessing. Then I remembered that Levi exists and asked him for good measure too. And Lana, of course, just because I can’t keep anything from her.” 

You smile. 

“Was there someone else I was supposed to tell?” 

You pinch your lips into a line. 

“No.” 

“Oh my god, there totally was. Who did I forget?” 

You fight the urge to laugh as he reaches forward, tickling at your sides as you shove him off. 

“No one, Eren. I love the ring.” 

Eren twists his face in confusion, before leaning forward. 

“Who said anything about the ring?” 

You pinch your eyes shut, before reaching forward and placing your hands on his cheeks. 

“I love the ring. And I love you, it’s really not –” 

“You told someone what type of ring you wanted, didn’t you?” 

You sigh, as you look down at the sparkling diamond on your finger, that really is perfect. 

“It was a tiny request that I had. I should have known that you’d tell Lana and not Mikasa, in hindsight.” 

Eren shakes his head. 

“That’s not a big deal. I’ll just get you another one.” 

“Eren.” 

“Really, I was planning on getting you multiple anyway. You have to have one that has a silver band and one that has gold, because I know that you hate mixed metals. So really, you can tell me what it is that you wanted and I’ll keep it in mind.” 

You sigh. 

“It’s kind of cheesy.” 

“I’m not lactose intolerant, Y/N. Just tell me.” 

You sigh. 

“I like the diamond, but I wanted it set with another stone.” 

“I do like unique rings. Which one were you thinking?” 

“An emerald. Because it’s green, you know?” 

And you watch as Eren grins, fully understanding your request this time, as he leans forward, his lips a few feet away from yours as he whispers. 

“Are you telling me you want a green emerald because my eyes are green?” 

“Sue me, Eren!” you deadpan. 

And it’s a lingering kiss that Eren presses to your cheeks, before he leans back and looks up at the fish. You follow his gaze to the two yellow fish swimming near the top, as they make their way down to the other side. 

And Eren looks over at you and smiles. 

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’ll just marry you instead.” 

--

You’re slightly late to Lana’s listening party and the two of you sneak in towards the back door, where you greet everyone waiting for you backstage.  And it’s quite obvious that Lana and Sukuna shared the news with everyone the second you arrive – because Mikasa reaches for your hand the second you walk up to her and Lana gives you a lingering hug. 

“Oh thank god, I was starting to get worried.” Mikasa states. 

“All the comments got to you the other day, didn’t they?” Sukuna asks. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“On the contrary, asshole. Though the comments did start to piss me off, because I was doing so well at hiding it before you all started bringing it up and making her think about it.” 

There’s a little dinging overhead, signaling that Lana had to start, as the group of you all head out to the little audience – filled with about fifty of Lana’s fans who nearly start screaming the second you all walk out to listen with them. 

“Hey.” Eren whispers. 

“What?” 

“I’ll be back, but you should keep your hair in the front.”

“What? Why?” 

“I left a mark earlier.” Eren responds, squeezing at your shoulder as you glare at his retreating form. 

He shoots you a wink over his shoulder, before he walks backstage and Lana walks on. And it’s sweet, the flowery dress she’s wearing and the purple guitar as she takes the stage. You feel a tap on your shoulder, to find Sukuna at your side, smiling at you. 

“Congratulations, stinky. There’s not many times that I find myself believing in things like this, at least not before anyways, but you’ve proven me wrong, time and time again.” 

You loop your arm in with Sukuna resting your chin against his shoulder, as you watch Lana start to tune the guitar. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” you respond. 

The two of you quiet down as Lana starts and Eren walks behind her, taking a seat at the piano. He shoots you a smile from his spot, starting to play the piano composition as Lana starts talking. 

“I’ve written lots of songs about people in my very long career of music, now. And I’ve had many songs written about me by my friend Eren here. I figured it was only fair that I returned the favor by writing about him and his beautiful fiancee, with his help of course.” 

Eren smiles as he leans closer to the microphone. 

“This song is called Margaret.” 

This is a simple song, gonna write it for a friend My shirt is inside out, I'm messy with the pen He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble" He had flashes of the good life He was like, "Should I jump off this building now or do it on the double?

'Cause, baby, if your love is in trouble Baby, if your love is in trouble Baby, if your love is in trouble When you know, you know When you know, you know

It kinda makes me laugh, runnin' down that path When you're good as gold 'Cause when you know, you know 'Cause when you know, you know And when you're old, you're old

Like Hollywood and me, that diamond on your ring The soul that you bring to the table One that makes me sing In a minor key Diamond on your ring 'Cause when you know, you know When you know, you know

--

The two of you tie the knot a year later, on a chilly December night, back in the old townhouse. It’s decorated to perfection – the walls that you originally took down are now covered again with polaroids of you and Eren, but all of your loved ones too. 

True to Mikasa’s statement all of those years ago, the flower girls at your wedding are Olivia and Lily – but they can’t exactly walk yet, so it’s only fair that Reiner and Connie carry them and their little flower baskets down the aisle. 

As busy as Mikasa and Jean are with the baby, they give up their spots as best man and maid of honor to the more seasoned parents, Lana and Sukuna. Though it feels entirely wrong to have Lana standing on your side and Sukuna on Eren’s, so you decide to switch the roles. Teddy’s quite possibly the best ring bearer and Levi’s the perfect person, who gives a sweet passionate speech about holding out for love, as the officiant of your wedding. 

Levi, however, is full of all sorts of tricks – which is something the two of you only note when it’s time for you to do your first dance. Because instead of the piano quartet that you organized, he’s sitting on the bench next to Hange instead, tapping on the microphone to get your attention. 

“I believe it’s time for the first dance.” Levi states. 

Hange rolls her eyes, before taking the microphone. 

“You’re so stiff, Levi.” 

“You talk then.” 

“No, you always tend to have a way with words.” 

You look up at Eren, admiring the two little pins on the lapel of his jacket – a crescent moon and the Saturn pin – before looking back at the two of them and their antics. 

“Eren and Y/N. You’ve written quite a few love songs, not only about the beautiful love that you share with each other, but the love that we all seem to have for one another as well. And really, we figured it was only fair that we all repaid the favor, by writing a song about the two of you for you to dance to.”

“And well, we know how much being surrounded by the love in the room means to you. So we’re going to invite everyone to join you on the dance floor, so you can be surrounded by it.” Hange states. 

The group of them all give you sweet smiles, as you all walk out onto the little makeshift floor, as Hange and Levi start playing the piano, Levi’s quiet voice filling the backyard. 

When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I could offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one there to dry your tears I could hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

You pause from looking at Eren, as you pull him closer – resting your ear against the beating sound of his heart – and catch it all again, the love in the room so warm it’s almost suffocating. Because it’s Falco still stepping on Gabi’s feet after all these years, Ymir spinning Sofia way too many times, and Jean and Mikasa dancing with Lily in their arms. 

“Can you believe they wrote a song about us?” you whisper. 

“I’ll fucking say. It was about time. Do you know how many weddings we’ve carried on our backs by writing songs?” 

“Don’t exaggerate, Eren. It was only like three.” 

“Three too many. I was expecting the damn fanfare when I walked in.” 

You both laugh, before leaning forward, and looking over at Hange and Levi – soft smiles that they give each other, as they play the piano together. 

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I will never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue I'd go crawling down the avenue No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do To make you feel my love

--

Eren makes his SNL debut three months after the fact and you figure that there's no better time to announce the fact that you and Eren are together. A silly little skit – where your fake characters are both named Margaret and Bruce – is the perfect end to what the two of you started at the beginning of the week, when you released your songs False God and Only Angel on the same day. 

But unbeknownst to Eren, you change the original plan you had – to play False God at the end of the show – and choose to play a different song at the end. Eren turns to you, giving you a last wink as the show starts rolling, and he turns to the camera. 

“Once again, Y/N L/N-Jaeger.” 

There’s a resounding sound of cheers as Eren takes his side next to Connie and Maryam at the front, as you start strumming on the guitar. 

Fatefully I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me Misery Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

And you passed right by I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides The knife cuts both ways If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

And I fell from the pedestal Right down the rabbit hole Long story short, it was a bad time Pushed from the precipice Clung to the nearest lips Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah

The first thing you catch sight of when you look out is Hange and Levi. And the first thing that comes to mind is that speech – watching Hange spilling tears into that microphone, watching it in your pajamas with Colt at your side and Falco fast asleep somewhere in the corner – and it makes your stomach jolt. 

Actually I always felt I must look better in the rear view Missing me At the golden gates they once held the keys to When I dropped my sword I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door And we live in peace But if someone comes at us This time, I'm ready

Ricky comes to mind next, but it’s only because you can see Lana and Sukuna in the third row – their heads leaned against each other as they hold hands. Because it’s not exactly the justice she exactly deserved, but years after the fact, his horrible mouth had landed him on a blacklisted list of actors – and really, he was never to be seen again. Hyla and Scott were always around, but never warranted a second thought after what you had done to them – tearing their once empire to the ground with your own bare hands and a pencil. 

No more keepin' score now I just keep you warm (keep you warm) No more tug of war now I just know there's more (know there's more) No more keepin' score now I just keep you warm (keep you warm) And my waves meet your shore Ever and evermore

Past me I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things Your nemeses Will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing And he's passing by Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky And he feels like home If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go

The raw spot of hurt that was reserved for Marco softened over the years and the over-consuming feeling it once used to give you was now open – for you to give to other parts of your life. To your friends, to your family, and to Eren. 

Eren. 

Now I'm all about you (and now) I'm all about you, ah (and now) I'm all about you (and now) I'm all about you, ah Yeah, yeah I'm all about you (and now) Yeah, yeah I'm all about you

You can’t help but smile at him, feeling your heart nearly pounding in your chest, as you look at him – smiling back at you from the front row, his hands pressed to his chest, with a silver band around his ring finger. 

Long story short, it was a bad time Long story short, I survived 

Hange had told you, indirectly all those years ago, to show people the real you. And as much acting as you and Eren had done - method and otherwise - you supposed there was nothing more real than the love that existed between the two of you.

Eren closes the distance and you swing your guitar to the side as he brings his hands around your cheeks and presses one last kiss to your lips before the camera cuts. 

--

an: a very bittersweet goodbye to one of the most special fics i've ever written. i truly do not think that there are enough words that i can string together (which as ironic as someone who is a fic writer) to explain what this fic has meant to me, what your interactions have meant to me, and everything else in between.

this fic has truly been a piece of my heart - not only because i've poured so many of my real emotions into each of the characters, but also because it's brought me so much joy to share with people - and to have them nitpick and find all the little clues i've been leaving along the way.

whether you've been reading since july or just picked it up in the few days before it was finished, thank you so much for being here 💌

PS: method acting fun fact! this fic was actually a REQUEST that I wrote for someone, if you can believe it. further proof to kind of interact with writers and show ur love bc u can ask for a fic and then be stuck with this mumbo jumbo of almost 270k words at the end of it.

peace and love!!! ronnie out <3

(if you request any side pieces about this stories/ask any questions/etc!!! I am more than happy to always answer. i've thought of so much lore in my head)

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon  @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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

[batsycline69]

Night & Day

Summary: Jason's night doesn't go as planned. As a result, neither does yours.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 4,365

Content/warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood

PREV

Jason wakes in a sweat.

He’s had this dream before; his body throbs, slick and sticky with blood. Each hit of the crowbar jerks his body.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his feet meeting the cold wood floors beneath him. He huffs, his head falling in his hands as he slumps towards his knees.

There’s no blood. Hell, there aren’t even the scars to prove what he went through anymore. It’s just Jason trapped in his own mind. The laughter echoes in his ears long after he wakes up, but the pain eventually fades into the back of his mind, a lingering nagging as he tries to grip onto reality and find something to distract himself.

Lines of light fall across the floor from the streetlamps pouring in through the venetian blinds. He’s been meaning to get curtains. He feels too exposed, even if the blinds are always shut.

When he was first resurrected, there were only so many memories he had to comfort himself with. Anything from his life with Bruce was immediately off limits, so he usually sought out Talia. The comfort she’d managed to offer him after all of that just by showing a little kindness.

A few days ago, he met you. You’d been kind to him too.

He told you to just call a ride instead of taking the train. He knew what happened in this neighborhood at that time of night. But you didn’t listen.

Jason knew you weren’t going to get onto that train without a hitch. He chose following you over the stupid drug bust. He figured there’d be time to take care of them later. He’d been right, of course, but after that, he froze.

You hadn’t been intimidated by him at the shop. But you’d seen him—the real him—and flinched. Not that he can blame you. It was a hell of an introduction on his part, barrel of his gun up against some guy’s head. In a city like Gotham? God, he could have been any creep.

But he’s him. He’s the same he’d been at the shop, but you don’t know that. And you can’t.

That doesn’t stop him from thinking of you. As he wakes from his nightmare, you’re there, and he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because your kindness is so straightforward. It’s not shrouded by trauma and odd gestures meant to translate to kindness. You talked with him, laughed with him. You got him food that you insisted he eat.

You’re better off without him. There’s a natural path for the two of you to never see each other again. It’s more work to not lose contact with you. Even with every part of him saying no, Jason makes the effort.

How’s your tattoo healing?

It’s still dark out, but it’s nearing 6 am now. As he sends the email, he hopes you get the idea he’s some sort of early riser. Maybe you think he’s less of a mess than he is. He’d let you think that, if you wanted to.

Part of him also worries about you. Not in some wild way, but after your close call with the guys at the train station, he doesn’t want you to be scarred for life. That may be overdramatic, but the point remains. That’s normal shit for him, but that’s not something you signed up for. That’s just the bi-product of living in Gotham.

His body collapses back into bed in a heap, his breath finally evening out. He’ll try to fall back asleep for at least an hour before he realizes it’s probably hopeless and gets up.

Mornings like this, he cooks. It passes the time. Dealers aren’t making deals this early. The shop doesn’t open until ten, but he sure as shit doesn’t want to be sitting around dwelling in his thoughts for longer than necessary.

So when Jason finally rises out of bed, he goes to the kitchen. He pulls out eggs and bread. Bacon, tomatoes, and cheese. Good salt, the salt that costs extra. He doesn’t have a lot of good these days, so he takes it where he can.

The Gotham underworld is lucrative, no surprise there. Jason has access to things he never would have as a kid. The sort of stuff he was introduced to at Wayne Manor. Except now Jason has them on his own terms. He didn’t need Bruce for it.

Bacon is on the stove sizzling as Jason’s old coffee machine gurgles. He’ll drink most of the pot by the time the sun rises. By now, there’s enough for him to focus on that he can push the dream to the back of his mind. He doesn’t need to think about the past. That’s why he has his plans. He has a future to look forward to. And if he has to be alive again, he’s going to make something of it.

Just the light above the stove is on. Jason likes the dark. Old habits and all that.

He fries up an egg until the ends get crispy. Toast, egg, sharp cheddar, bacon, and hot sauce. He takes a mug of coffee and his sandwich over to the small table up against the window and watches as the city wakes up.

It’s the most normal his day is going to look. These moments where his brain isn’t completely fixed on the job. He’s not trying to parse through whatever lying scumbag is coming into the shop. There’s no blood. It’s quiet.

The quiet is nice until it isn’t. Until it’s too quiet, and there’s nothing besides the quiet.

When he woke up, buried six feet under, it had been quiet. Except for his breathing. The claustrophobic weight. The crushing weight of the dirt as it pressed against him, as he fought to the surface.

You reply while he’s out taking his smoke break.

The tattoo itches, but it looks good, you say. I’ll send a picture once it’s healed.

His second appointment of the day, the one he goes to after he sees your email, is the type he usually sees. Some asshole that wants a skull on his arm to prove he’s tough. Someone who definitely isn’t you. But it’s not his place to wish it was. He feels ridiculous being so attached to you like a lost little puppy.

He wants to think of an excuse to see you again, but his mind is blank. Can’t just lure you to a dark alley for a chat like the people he’s normally trying to get in touch with. Yet again, just trying to be a regular person, he falls short. He doesn’t know how to navigate this. He spent the years he was supposed to figure this shit out in a box beneath the earth. As much as Talia taught him when he came back, he didn’t get flirting lessons.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about you. Sure, he could dig around and fight out a thing or two. That’s what Bruce would do, but he’s not Bruce. He doesn’t want to do that with you. He wants to just be Jason in your eyes, so that means keeping Red Hood as far away from you as possible.

Are you taking care of it?

It’s not flirting. It’s not smooth, either, but it does keep the conversation going.

During his next appointment, he has to push you to the back of his mind. The guy ends up being a small-time dealer. A guy who works for a guy who works for a guy sort of dealer. His license was scanned when he came in for the tattoo, and that means Jason has his address. There’s a lot he can learn from a license, assuming it’s real. Lucky for Jason, the dealer wasn’t smart enough to use a fake. Now he’s got a new lead, more heads to bust.

After the shop closes, he goes home. As he’s researching, he gets another response.

Yeah, I’ve been going swimming every day and using dish soap to keep it clean just like you said.

He smirks. You’re a smart-ass. That’s part of what he likes about you.

As he eats the leftover fried rice he heated up to the light of his laptop, he thinks about your appointment. The way you’d laughed over your dinner. The mischievous look in your eye as you teased him. He wished he had paid closer attention to that look because when he thought of you now, he saw that look of fear. That look directed at him. Guilt sat heavy in his chest because of it. You couldn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you. It was a good instinct. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to blame you for it.

Tonight, he’s going to kill. Becoming a crime lord isn’t pretty work, but he’s not about to shy away from it. If he has to spill blood, that’s what he’ll do. But he isn’t willing to risk that colliding into his memories of you either.

You’re separate from all of this.

Jason doesn’t regret being there for you at the train station. How could he? But at the same time, now you know, and that’s a liability. He doesn’t think you’d go around asking everyone, but he also doesn’t know you, and that fact remains even when his mind runs away from him to focus on your skin. Sure, Jason’s got the training to be able to read someone, but he’s not one to get too comfortable about such things.

This whole thing is still new. It’s precarious. Jason’s been back in Gotham weeks. There’s still plenty to be done, and he doesn’t need to be distracted.

Jason’s night doesn’t go as planned.

The dealers he’d been meeting with had gotten sloppy. A crew that got way too comfortable talking about sales in public. Batman got wind of it, but Jason was one step ahead. He got out minutes before Bruce arrived, and he didn’t leave anyone left alive to talk to. It’s messier than he’d like, but he doesn’t leave evidence. Whatever trail Bruce has picked up through them will run cold.

Just when he thinks he gets away without a hitch, he runs into the boss of the men unlucky enough to cross his path. He gets a shot in, but not before the boss grazed his thigh with a bullet. It bleeds, but it doesn’t go deep. Still, he can’t ignore it. He takes shelter in a residential area. He can keep a lower profile here if Batman is in the neighborhood, so he finds a dark alley to lick his wounds. He steams over how much carelessness has set him back, when a door slamming breaks his concentration.

And there you are.

You don’t see him in the darkness. You’ve got a bag of garbage in your hand heading towards the dumpster just a few feet away from where his back is pressed against the wall. It’s only a matter of time you see the faint glow from his mask, and he’ll see that same startled look on your face. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear again.

The bag of trash clamors into the dumpster as you toss it in. You turn over your shoulder and freeze at the sight of someone standing just out of sight. And there’s that look. That same startled, caught in headlights look that’s been haunting him since he left you at the train station. He can’t stand it. So he raises his free hand and gives a small wave.

“Just me,” he says.

Recognition crosses your eyes as you fully find him in the shadows. “Oh,” you say, the sound getting drowned out by the light rain falling. Unconsciously—at least, he hopes—you take a half step away from him.

Yeah, maybe Jason should have thought this through a little more. So careful when he’s making his big plans, but all of the sudden, with you, he’s got his foot in his mouth and his brain where it shouldn’t be. Last you ran into him, he had been hidden out of sight, appearing suddenly to come to your rescue. And maybe doing the same thing outside where you presumably live isn’t a good look.

He should have gone on a rooftop somewhere.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not like the full version of the truth would offer you any comfort. I don’t think you’d like to hear that he’s on the run from Batman for killing a few guys. But is you potentially thinking he’s stalking you any better?

Your body is still rigid, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing down there?”

He wonders if you’ve got your pepper spray on him. You’d know better than to use it against him from your first run-in, but maybe you’re holding it now as a comfort. He’s not going to humor himself by believing you trust him. Even if he knows you’re safe with him, you don’t.

“Seemed like a good spot for a rest,” he replies.

The shadows across your face make it hard for him to really see where you’re looking, but he sees your back stiffen.

“Is that blood?” you ask, and now he’s sure your eyes are on his leg, fixed to the spot he was grazed. The concern is evident in your voice. Your eyes grow wide, and Jason all but sees the internal spiral happening on your face.

“Don’t worry, it’s mine,” he replies.

You stand, open-mouthed for a moment, the features of your face twisting further into confusion and worry. “Don’t worry?” you ask in disbelief. Your voice pitches slightly.

“Relax, it’s just a bullet graze. I’m fine.”

A moment of silence passes. Jason waits for the bleeding to slow a little. But once time passes without any sort of response from you, he looks up to catch your eyes wide in disbelief. Which is probably fair. At best, he sounds like an asshole being so casual about something like that. Sure, it’s Gotham, but even that’s a little much. Your obviously freaked out, and here he is acting cavalier.

Jason nods once. “Sorry. The people I’m usually around don’t get bothered about that sort of thing.”

You nod once, your arms crossing over your chest. “I bet.”

God, this is such a mess.

Your eyes flicker up from his wounded leg to the glowing white space where his eyes are beneath his helmet. Jason wishes so desperately to know what’s going on in your head. Do you see him as some sort of monster? Is there any bit of Jason you see beneath the helmet, even if you can’t actually know it’s him? Or has he blown all of this?

“Are you...okay?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He thinks it’s silly you would in the first place. People have never worried about Jason; he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You shouldn’t be the first one to take on the hopeless task of worrying for him, especially not over some graze. Especially not some graze relative to all of the other things that’s happened to him.

If this is what happens when he a bullet grazes his leg, he can’t imagine what you’d think of everything else.

“So...what’s your deal?” you ask cautiously.

“My deal?” Jason replies, even though he knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Yeah. I mean...what kind of guy in a mask are you?”

There’s a rough, modulated laugh from behind the helmet. “Well, I scared off those guys the other night, didn’t I? What kind of guy does that make me?”

“You scared them off with a gun.”

“And? They didn’t hurt you either way, right?” Maybe there was no room for you to see anything in Red Hood, and maybe he was foolish to think otherwise. He wonders if that still leaves any hope for you and Jason.

“And you conveniently are in the same place as me at the same time. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“So you think I’m stalking you, huh?” he asks with a light laugh.

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” you reply.

You don’t trust him. There’s no hesitancy to voice your skepticism. He has to admire you just a little bit, even if it is a stupid idea to be arguing with the guy you know is carrying a gun. Now he’s the one who’s going to start worrying about you, as if that wasn’t already the case.

“You live in a shitty neighborhood. You’re gonna see guys in masks around here.”

“It’s Gotham. Most of the neighborhoods are shitty. Are you always this evasive?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

There’s a pause as you look him over carefully. Even if you don’t trust him, Jason doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants you to believe that he’s not a threat to you. Not on purpose, at least. He showed up at the train station because the thought of those guys laying a single hand on you made his stomach roll.

He wants you to trust him now like you had trusted him with your skin.

“Listen, I was working in the area. Swear to god, it was a coincidence. I needed someplace quiet to patch up. I didn’t know you were here.”

You don’t seem totally pleased with the answer, but he can tell you could maybe eventually buy it. Again, you watch him carefully for a minute. Gotham is singing her usual song around you, sirens and rain hitting the rooftops. Somewhere a few blocks away, Jason swears he can make out a fight.

“Are you blinking under there?” you ask, sounding a little unnerved by the constant glowing where he can see what’s going on.

He laughs lightly. “Yeah, I’m blinking under here.”

“I tried to thank you the other day, but you were gone already,” you finally say. “So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason replies, even though he had heard it. When you were focused on the train rolling in, he’d slipped back into the shadows, waiting until the sounds of the train had long died down just to be sure there wasn’t anything else that was going to interrupt your trip home.

There’s another beat before he speaks again. “So are you okay?”

You look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just glad you were there when you were.”

Jason nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your eye darting nervously back to his leg.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

Your weight shifts. You’re hesitating, still not ready to accept his answer. “Do you...need anything?”

He wants to tell you not to offer help to guys like him. You’re being too nice, and not every guy is going to be like him. Maybe he’s just flattering himself, but he gets the idea this isn’t a universal openness. You’re testing the waters, weighing everything he says and does. He thinks about how you must be putting together one hell of a pros and cons list in your head right now.

Jason imagines what would happen if he said yes; maybe you would scurry up to your apartment. You would come back with three towels even if you thought he only needed one. You’d get him water or some food to keep his energy up. What would you bring out to share with the stranger who has a gun?

But Jason shakes his head. “I’m all set,” he replies. “Jacket’s got a lot of pockets.”

Thunder cracks overhead. You startle from the sound, gaze turning towards the sky as rain starts falling down harder around you both. With Jason’s helmet on, he’s not much bothered beyond the drops blurring his vision slightly, but you’re exposed.

“You should get inside,” Jason says, nudging his head back towards the door you came out of.

And, of course, you pause. He sees the way your eyes flicker nervously to his wound.

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t do it,” he says.

“Don’t do what?” you ask indigently.

“Invite me in to be polite and all that.”

You scoff. “Invite you in? Are you kidding me? You’ve given me next to no information about yourself. You’ve openly admitted you hang out with people who aren’t phased by getting shot--”

“’Hang out’ is an overstatement--”

“I am not inviting you up to my apartment. I’m sure you have dangerous friends you can stay with.”

With the helmet, you can’t see, but Jason smirks. You are warming up to him. The you from the shop is getting pulled out little by little. He’s glad to see you again.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn towards the door a little. “Well...good luck with your leg,” you say, fishing through your coat pockets. The movement picks up a little more, followed by a soft curse under your breath.

“Locked out?” Jason asks. He doesn’t bother to hide the pleased tone in his voice.

“I left my keys inside,” you grumble.

Jason rises to his feet, careful to stay off his wounded leg as much as possible. “Bummer,” he says. “Want me to pick the lock?”

You turn back over your shoulder, looking like you’re trying to suss out whether he’s joking or not. With the helmet on, he’s sure it’s hard to tell.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminds you. “Just gonna get the door open for you, and then I’m out of here. Promise.”

A bright flash of lightning illuminates your face, and you nod. “Okay.”

You take a step back from the door, letting him at the lock, gnawing on your lips nervously. “What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not worried about it,” he replies.

“And if someone catches me with you and I get evicted? I’m a little worried about that.”

“I get I’m not exactly at the top of the list of trustworthy individuals, but I’m going to need a little more confidence from you.”

There’s a crash of thunder. The rain gets even just a little bit heavier as Jason fiddles with the lock until it opens. It only takes him a few seconds, but you don’t comment on it. He’s not sure if it’s because you’re not surprised he can do it that quickly or because you’re exhausted with everything you’ve learned about him in the past few minutes.

You look at the open door, then back at him. “Thank you,” you say. It’s a little reserved, but he sees the echoes of you sitting in his station at the shop. A hint that maybe his chances aren’t so doomed as he worried.

“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble.”

One last time, your gaze drops down to his thigh before looking back up. “You too,” you reply, letting the door slam shut behind you.

He should take this as his sign to leave, but he lingers a minute. It’s long enough for him to just barely hear a window slide open overhead.

Above him, he sees your head peek out over the ledge of your fire escape. Your building has the old kind, the wooden ones that are without a doubt a safety hazard. When you see him looking up at you, you quickly disappear out of sight again. The shyness is a little endearing, he has to admit. Not that he’s been doing a great job fighting it to begin with.

He can’t tell what you’re doing, but he knows you’re still out there. The top level is about as tall as the tracks above him. You live close to the station. That makes him feel a little bit better about your trip home after your tattoo. At least the time you were exposed to more trouble was cut down because of that.

There’s a little movement up on the fire escape. You hang something off the edge, but he can’t quite make out what. He sees the top of your head as you climb back through your window, and then the faint glow coming from your window goes dark.

Jason waits one second longer, trying to decide whether he’s meant to see what you’ve left him or not. He decides he is, and makes the trek up the rickety ladder. Some steps give a little from rot. Even if his leg isn’t wounded too badly, he does feel it each of the steps up. He wonders if you left everything up on the fourth floor where you live to spite him for being so nonchalant about getting hit.

When he finally makes it up to where you’ve left him a surprise, he sees your curtains are drawn shut. There’s no sliver of light peeking through. He wonders if you turned the lights off so he couldn’t see you trying to stay hidden while getting a look at him.

Hung over the railing is an umbrella. One he knows you didn’t have with you when you were out with him. You put it out here for him, even with his helmet on. Maybe as a thank you for helping you inside. Maybe as a way of toeing the line of you saying you won’t invite him in.

He could be anyone, but you gave away where you lived. He’d done enough for you to trust he wasn’t going to take advantage of this knowledge. But as the rain starts to get a little harder, he leans up against the brick of your building and opens up the umbrella. He can keep his leg dry until the rain lets up, at least.

Sitting out of the rain in the safety of your rickety fire escape, Jason makes the decision he’s going to ask you out for a drink tomorrow morning. Not him, Red Hood, but the tattoo artist. He knows for certain he’s not going to be able to keep you off his mind now.

He hopes tonight, he dreams of you.

PREV

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason #x reader

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader Instagram AU

- (Mía is 18 and EZ is 15 here)

•

Liked by jackharlow, yourusername, urbanwyatt, ezharlow, cassiewyatt, and 5,887,345 others

alizemiaharlow We’re B🅰️ck 🩸

View all 2,00 comments

yourusername Yayyy, can’t wait to watch.

alizemiaharlow 🤝🏻 ❤️

jackharlow Proud of you 💜

alizemiaharlow 🥺 thanks dad 💜

urbanwyatt My niece is all grown up 😢 proud of you princess.

alizemiaharlow 🥺🫶🏼 thank you Nino

•

Liked by cassiewyatt, yourusername, jackharlow, alizemiaharlow, and 6,877,345 others

ezharlow Gazebo Festival ready 🤘🏼 let’s go!!!

View all 1,200 comments

yourusername 😍 That’s my baby boy!!!

ezharlow 🥰 love you ama’

alizemiaharlow 🤮 🙄

cassiewyatt Okkkkk basic fit goes crazy 🔥

ezharlow I hate you! Why are you always coming for my fits?

cassiewyatt Because you dress like every other white boy, step it up.

druski HAHAHAHAHAHA 😂😂😂

ezharlow Shut up with your fungus looking feet

jackharlow Angel Ezequiel

ezharlow Sorry uncle Dru

druski Nahh own that shit up 😂

•

Liked by jackharlow, yourusername, urbanwyatt, ezharlow, and 6,234,986 others

alizemiaharlow A time was had 💥 Day 1 was a success.

View all 2,300 comments

yourusername Yesssss today was fun.

jackharlow Thanks for showing up bug 🐞

alizemiaharlow Always 🤝🏻❤️

cozane It was soo good to see you kid. Don’t forget about us.

alizemiaharlow Uncle Avatar 🥺 never everrrr could I forget about you. Even though I’m upset that I didn’t get a care package but don’t worry, I made sure to cop on my own 🤘🏼🥰

cozane What the? I did send you a package, you were literally the only one who got everything.

alizemiaharlow 🤷🏻‍♀️

ezharlow About that 🫣

cozane Punk ass you got your own

ezharlow I needed more?

alizemiaharlow 🙄

•

Liked by jackharlow, alizemiaharlow, ezharlow, cassiewyatt, urbanwyatt, and 6,877,345 others

yourusername Proud of you baby! Always. I’m always team you and your art. I know things didn’t go as planned for day 2, but seeing how happy you were last night, made me emotional and beyond happy. You put in so much dedication, sweat and tears into this, you should feel very proud because I’m very proud of you. Thank you for allowing me to be part of night 1, it was so special to me. I love you for ever and always. I can’t wait what you have planned next.

View all 1,200 comments

alizemiaharlow Superstars ⭐️ ✨

ezharlow My parents are the shit 😎

jackharlow I love you 🥺 thank you for accepting to perform, I know you were a little thrown off by the idea. It’s us against the world, this is a new era and I can’t wait to takeover with you.

cassiewyatt ❤️❤️

claybornharlow 🔥

user of course she was going to perform 🙄 she was the bathroom break 😂

user no way was she going to perform after Queen SZA that would’ve been dead asf 😂

alizemiaharlow People like you is the reason why my mom was iffyyy about the idea to perform. But I’m glad she did, she did amazing, per usual. You’re just mad my dad is her number one fan and includes her in everything, sorry your dad can’t do that for your mom.

ezharlow 💀 Send me your addyyy, I’ll send some autographed pictures of my dad so you’re not so bitter!

allabouttheharlows One thing about Mia and EZ, they’re gonna defend Jack and Y/N

ezharlow They regret ever giving us permission to be on social media 🤣

jackharlow 🫣 We do.

•

- SURPRISE!!!!!!

I know it’s a surprise for me as well.

Life has bee, interesting, it’s been testing me daily, but I’ve seen some growth within myself and it did me good being away. I see all the messages you guys continue to send me, I feel guilty not replying but I didn’t want to give false hope of me being back 100%! I don’t want to commit just yet, but I do want to come with a schedule for me being here and posting. So let me know which days work for you guys best.

•

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree @toocriticalharlow @thefemalestorywriter @lightsoutstyles @violetslays818 @fantasywritersstuff @vanwritesfan-fiction

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow x you

[vodika-vibes]

Would it be too much of a cliche to ask for a monster au with Commander Wolffe being a werewolf, and him finding out a monster hunter took his human s/o to lure him into a trap.

Sins Of The Father

Summary: You are the daughter of the nation's most well known, and least well respected, monster hunter. When you and your twin brother were children, the pair of you, and your mother, were attacked by a werewolf who wanted revenge on your father. Your mother died in the attack, your brother was turned, and you survived unscathed. Your father threw your brother in a cage, buried your mother, and you were left on your own…until you ran away from home at 18 and vowed to never return. And then you met Wolffe, a werewolf, and fell in love with him. And then your father found out.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 2265

Warnings: Mentions of torture

Prompt: Monster AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I don't think I followed the prompt to the letter, but I had an idea and I ran with it. I hope you like it!

“Are you listening?” You lift your gaze from your heavily bandaged hands, to stare at your father, your lips turned down into a dark scowl. “Don’t you look at me like that, I am your father, and you will respect me.”

“Or what?” You bite out, “You’ll break my hands…oh, wait-”

He roughly grabs your chin, roughly enough that you can feel the bruises forming on your already badly bruised skin, though you just grind your teeth and glare at him. 

Your father gives in first, throwing you against the concrete wall behind you and turning away from you, “As if it’s not bad enough that you’re whoring yourself out to a wolf-”

“He’s a man, you’re just a bigot.” You bite out as you painfully rub your jaw.

“Shut up!” He rounds on you, “You…you’ve whored yourself to a wolf. Your brother is a wolf. Your mother would be ashamed-”

You surge to your feet, “My brother, your son, was only attacked because of you! We were punished because of your actions-” You cry out in pain as his fist slams into your cheek.

You glare up at him, and he glares right back at you. “I should slit your throat.”

“You won’t do it,” You counter, “You’re a coward. You always have been. You always will be.”

He strikes you again, and again, before he’s ripped off by his second, a timid looking man. “Sir, you can’t kill her. She’s bait, remember?”

Your father heaves for breath, “Right…right…” He turns his back on you, “Girl, take care of the cubs. Mattio…get her out of my sight.”

“Yes sir.” Mattio hoists you to your feet, and drags you out of the small cell that has been your room for the last week, and to the large building that houses the werewolf kids. “I’ll come and bring you back to your cell at the end of the day.” He says, without meeting your gaze.

You glare at him, and rip your arm out of his grasp, “I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.” Is all you say as you walk over to the large door and wait for him to open it.

Mattio sighs, and unlocks the door, allowing you into the large house. And then he shuts the door behind you with a final sounding click. 

The Cub House is home to over three dozen children between the ages of 6 and 12. All of them are werewolves. Many were plucked from their pack, some, though, were handed over to the Hunters when their parents learned that they had been turned.

Odds are, the second any of these children showed any violent tendencies when they’re transformed, they’ll be executed for being monsters. And it’ll be applauded.

Your lips twist with disgust, of course they’re going to lash out. Even young werewolves need space to run and to roam, keeping them caged won’t do anything but make the wolf angry. It is why so many packs live so far away from civilization. 

There’s the sound of light footsteps, and you lift your gaze from the dirty floor to the darkened edges of the room. Golden eyes, identical in color, though so different in every other way, peer at you from behind crates and beds.

You smile and slowly, painfully, sit down on the floor, “Hello little ones,” You greet, as you wait for them to come to you. A little girl, with vibrant red hair, crawls out from under a bed and she trots over to you.

Her sharp eyes take in your heavily bandaged hands and arms, and the dark bruises covering every inch of your exposed skin, and she frowns, “You’re not like us.” It’s not a question, so you tilt your head and wait for her to continue, “Yet…they hurt you anyway. Why?”

The little girl leans in and sniffs at you, and you immediately peg her as a pack born werewolf. That is a very specific action that you’ve never seen from people who were adopted into a pack later in life.

“You smell like an Alpha.” The little girl says, “But not my packs Alpha, but you’re not like us.” Her eyes narrow suspiciously. 

“I’m not,” You agree, “I am, however, the life partner of one of the Fett Alphas.”

The suspicion clears from her gaze, “Oh, you’re a mate.”

You allow her to believe that, although you and Wolffe haven’t quite gotten to the point in your relationship yet. Well, Wolffe hasn’t, at least. You’ve been there for months now, though.

The little girl sits in front of you, and the other children emerge from the shadows, some of them pressing against your sides for comfort, “Why are they hurting you if you’re not a wolf, like us?” A little boy asks as he lightly traces a burn on your arm, and then holds out his arm to show an identical burn.

“I’m bait.” You explain, and you don’t have to say anymore, as the children nod in understanding. 

“You smell like the wolf in the lower levels,” One of the oldest boys says.

You start, honestly surprised, “My brother’s still alive?” You blurt, “Stars, I thought that father would have killed him ages ago-” You take a deep breath, if you had known that he was still alive, you would have returned for him ages ago.

“It’s not your fault,” The little girl sitting in front of you says as she lightly pets your knee, “The Hunter keeps him isolated, there’s no need for such guilt.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” You murmur quietly, as your eyes close. You nurse the guilt for a moment longer, and then you exhale and shove the guilt to the side to focus on the children in your care, “This is the story of the Mother and her most beloved children-” You start in a sing song voice, it’s a story you learned from the pack, and now you’ll share it with these children.

All you can do now is hope that someone will come for you, though you also hope that it won’t be Wolffe.

The last thing you want is for him to be in danger because of you.

“Calm down, vod.” Comet says quietly as he folds his arms across his chest while watching his older brother pace, impatiently, from one side of the room to the other. “We’re moving as fast as we can.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Wolffe bites out, his mismatched eyes landing on the ribbon clutched in his hands. His partner, his mate, always wears a ribbon in her hair. Always. It allows him to find her, even in a crowd of people.

Several days ago, he came to pick her up for their date, and saw that her front door had been kicked in, and her braid, ribbon included, laid in the middle of the living room.

Her home was also trashed, clothes ripped to shreds, furniture destroyed, paintings slashed-

Whoever broke into her home, whoever took her, hated her. And made sure that everyone knew it.

Wolffe grinds his teeth, and then whips his attention from the ribbon in his hand to his brother, “Tell me you found something?”

Comet sighs and shakes his head. “The boys have gone through the entire house, Wolffe. And they haven’t found anything.” He taps his arm for a moment, “Are you sure that she doesn’t have any enemies?”

“She-” Wolffe pauses, and his gaze drops to the ribbon. An old conversation, had several weeks after they started dating, comes to the forefront of his mind.

“My dad is a terrible person,” She says, her voice soft as she lightly traces his fingers with one of her own.

“He can’t be that bad,” Wolffe counters, his gaze locked on her face, “He sired you, didn’t he?”

She smiles at him, his fingers gliding across the palm of his hand, and over his wrist, “My father is a werewolf hunter, one of the less well respected ones.” She admits, “When I was a child, mother took my twin brother and I to the market, and we were attacked by an Alpha who had lost their mate to my father.”

Wolffe exhales sharply, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No. It wasn’t. But mother still died, and my brother was turned…and I survived unscathed. I never saw my brother again after that day.” Her voice is soft and wistful, “I miss him.”

“What happened after?”

“I grew to hate him, and he grew to hate me in turn. No one was unhappy when I left.” She smiles tiredly, “I took my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as my own, and have tried to put it behind me.”

Wolffe’s hand comes out to cup her cheek, “If it’s in the past, then you needn’t tell me.”

She hums softly, and presses her hand over his, “If something happens to me, Wolffe, I need you to know that it was my father who did it.” Her thumb, soft and warm, brushes against the back of his hand, “He’ll never forgive me for dating you. Never.”

Wolffe’s gaze is serious as he leans in so his lips are hovering just over hers, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you-”

Wolffe is pulled from his memory at the feeling of Comet’s hand on his forearm, “Vod?”

“Her father,” Wolffe says, “He’s a hunter. You need to look into her father.”

Comet pauses, and then he smirks, “I can work with that.” He agrees, “You have a name?”

Wolffe smirks at him, “Of course I do.”

It’s the break that the pack has been waiting for. Once Wolffe gives his brothers a name, they get a location of the hunting camp. It’s not terribly close to Fett territory, which is reassuring, but it is a lot bigger than anyone was anticipating. 

Wolffe keeps his gaze locked on the camp, his jaw clenched and his hands curling and uncurling into tight fists. He can smell her. Her scent is strong. Too strong. The kind of strong that only comes with pain and suffering.

She’s probably still alive though.

He can hear his brothers bickering behind him, Cody and Fox’s packs are here as well, but it sounds like they have a basic plan in place. “I’m going to get her.” Wolffe says, interrupting his twin, “She’s suffering and in pain and I’m going to get here.”

“That’s why we’re here, vod.” Fox says, “But we need to be smart about this.”

“You be smart about it. I’m going. Now.”

Cody and Fox share a look, and then nod. “Fine. Go, we’ll be on your heels.”

The actual infiltration is a haze. Wolffe doesn’t remember how he managed to navigate the camp and make it to the small building where his mate is being kept without getting caught, and in the end it doesn’t matter. Because he climbs in the window and she’s there.

“Cyare,” Wolffe goes to say something else, I love you. I missed you. Are you hurt? How can I help? But he says none of them. Instead he walks over to her, and cups her face between his gentle hands, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Her hands come up to press against his cheeks, but Wolffe carefully catches her wrists to look at her shaking hands. Her fingers are bent awkwardly, and there are bruises peeking out from under the dirty bandages.

“Cyare?”

“Broken,” She whispers, “He…father was…he’s not happy about you.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have protected you-”

“I’m the one who refused to move in with you,” she rasps out, “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s his fault.”

She pauses and then nods once, accepting his words as a truth, and then she shifts to her knees, “Wolffe, there’s a small house not far from here where there are children being held and-”

“Shh, shh.” He bumps his forehead against hers, “It’s okay. Cody and Fox are here with me. They’ll take care of it.”

“My brother is here.” She says, “He’s here and he’s alive and you can’t leave him, Wolffe. You can’t-”

“Never. I would never. You’re my mate, which makes him family.”

She blinks at him, and there are tears in her eyes, “I am?”

“This isn’t exactly how I planned on asking you,” Wolffe admits, “I was going to take you out on the full moon so you could be there for my transformation and…” He sighs, “I had a plan, cyare.” He clicks his tongue, “Another crime to lay at your father’s feet.”

She watches him for a moment, and then lightly grips his shoulders, “Wolffe, I want to go home, please?”

“Of course, cyare. Let’s get you to the medic. And then I’m going to rip your father to shreds.”

He expects her to argue against it, for her to ask him not to, to offer mercy. But something icy slides through her gaze and she nods once. “Good.”

And Wolffe has never been more in love with her than in that moment as he leans in and kisses her gently enough to not hurt her, and then he pulls back to help her to her feet.

He knows that it’s going to be a bloody night. But he already has his mate’s permission for what’s about to happen. He’ll make sure that the massacre will be clean and quick, so he can get her home, so he can wrap himself around her and tend to her hurts to the best of his ability.

But for now, he has a battle to prepare for…and a mate to escort.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #monster au #answered asks

[miwsolovely]

—BROKEN PIANO KEYS.

combat medic!reader getting the brunt of gaz’s death + price who breaks. based on mito’s post !!

tw: heavy grief, character death.

it wasn’t raining.

on days like these, days where people are mourned and remembered, where people regret and forgive, it’s supposed to be sad.

it’s supposed to be sad, so why is the sun shining? why is the sky clear? where’s the bitter, dewy smell of the rain on the plants?

Why are the flowers blossoming on such a dreary day?

you thought the setting was bad, thought the world hated you with how the skies were free of dark clouds and droopy leaves, but when the 21-gun salute started, your knees buckled and your body started shaking; you want to go home.

home where you used to lay on the couch together, home where you used to cook meals together, home where his scent still lingers on the furniture, his clothes, his pillow. it was still there, his tantalizing scent, comforting you during the hard days where you can barely close your eyes, but tormenting you every day with what you lost.

each fire of their guns made you flinch, made you dig your nails into your palm until they bled, made you sink your teeth in your chapped lips until you tasted iron.

only when you looked down at your hands, seeing the blood trail out of the crescent marks you created and spread out on your palmar flexion creases like art, the trail of blood leading from your mouth splattering on your open palm and staining the dry grass, that you realized where you are.

you’re at a funeral, his funeral.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, a sergeant in the 141, your friend, your best friend, the man you found yourself falling for day by day. he’s gone.

if you’d have gotten there sooner, if you’d have—

the whiplike shots of the guns shake you out of your reverie.

but they also send you into a more poisonous one.

one where you see him. see his face covered in blood, his beautiful face, stained by the blood of enemies.

we get dirty and the world stays clean.

but he didn’t need to. he didn't need to get dirty to keep the world clean. he was the only one who had a clear mindset in the darkest times, who had stayed by you when your sheets would stick to your skin and your mind had been plagued by the cloying melody of the night.

to you, the world needed him to stay clean.

they needed him in the way he'd anyways go out of his way to make sure the elderly were safe after a bad day, who always check up on the kids he'd meet on ops after they went through a traumatic moment,

you needed him in the way he could just be there with you and listen to your hummingbird heart beat into his open palm when you’d lie in bed together.

you remember, his ebony hair that is, was, a rich dark brown, that always seemed to verge on black; it always reminded you of the grand piano he has.

. . . Had.

his voice was always so soft, just like the word ebony itself has a pleasing, melodic sound when it's spoken, his name, not his callsign, instead, the name given to him by his mother who has equally as shiny hair and skin;

Kyle. your kyle, your love. your everything.

though you were going through one of the worst throes since your late parents, though your grief was present in your breath, though the wail you let out scratched your throat like knives; others were going through the agonizing pain of loss.

others like johnny whose tear stained sketchbook is filled with kyle’s last moments smiling, where he was petting a stray cat on the outskirts of the battlefield a few weeks ago.

others like simon who can’t walk to his room without feeling his eyes sting and heart crumble; kyle’s room exactly across from his, with bouquets and letters and everything that screams Kyle blocking someone from entering.

others like johnathan.

johnathan, who can’t drink his tea without feeling like somethings wrong. kyle would make him tea early in the morning with his own special touch. though he’d never told price what it was.

johnathan, who finds himself gently moving the gifts left in front of kyle’s door and quietly moving inside after opening the door.

johnathan, whose tears come fast when he sees your sleeping body laying on his bed, tears flowing free even in your sleep.

johnathan, who gently wakes you up and guides you to the bathroom so you can wash up and get something to eat.

“kyle wouldn’t want this for you doe.”

johnathan, who after you wash up and after johnny drives you to a nearby diner, stands alone in kyle’s room.

johnathan, who falls to his knees and lets out a deep wail that comes from the hearth of his sorrow.

johnathan, whose tears cascaded down his face like a relentless waterfall, each droplet a testament to the profound sorrow that had hollowed out his heart.

johnathan, whose sobs echoed through the empty room, a symphony of despair that reverberated against the walls and seeped into the very air he breathed inside this grave of a room.

johnathan, whose grief seemed to bend him, much like how he saw you curled in fetal position, his shoulders were hunched as if carrying the burden of a thousand heartaches; his team’s heartaches, your heartache. his own headache that weighed the weight of the world ten times over.

johnathan, whose eyes, windows to a soul shattered by loss, glistened with the raw, unfiltered emotion of a man who had been stripped of all pretense.

johnathan, who, in that moment, he was the embodiment of human fragility, a poignant reminder of the universal capacity for suffering.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

#wrote this on like trwo hours of sleep bear with me … #MITO UR COOKING SO BAD #sigh go read mito’s fics they’re my life line #his writing id so yummy #x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle ‘gaz’ garrick #kyle cod #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john price x reader #john price cod #cpt price #captain john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #price cod #john price #captain price #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley #simon cod #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap cod

[simplydannie]

Hi Dannie! I just thought of another fanfic idea, what if the twins had some sort of redemption arc where they work at Bruce n’ Sons as community service for their crimes. I’ve seen fanart based on this but I would love to see it be turned into a story! No rush, take all the time you need! ❤️

Haii!

Sorry it took me awhile! There’s a lot I’ve been doing lol Omg I’ve seen that fan art too! Their time at Bruce n’ Sons would honestly be so interesting! Of course fun times await them at Bruce N Sons, but before all that, Velvet and Veneer’s name weren’t that greatly received when they started there:

Bruce didn’t like this one bit. No matter what Floyd would say, they were still criminals. Bruce just couldn’t see how he still wanted to give them a second chance, he couldn’t see how in the world they were redeemable, but he agreed, he’s doing this for his brother.

Bruce sighed as he put on his apron, “Well, time to get the day started.” He walked out the door.

It was 6:15 in the morning, he told the twins to report at 7 to debrief them in their shifts, he was definitely surprised when he saw the two Rageons waiting for him in the kitchen.

“Morning Bruce!” Veneer chimed. The kid was literally to happy for his own good. His sister, well, the complete opposite. She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Good morning. And nice to see you to princess.” Bruce said.

“Whatever. Can you just tell us what we need to do and get this over with please.” Her tone earned her an elbow to the ribs from her brother.

“Well since you did say please so nicely.” Bruce smirked. “Let’s see yesterday we had Velvet working the mini bar, Veneer you washed dishes. So far so good. So today, Veneer you seem like you have a likable aura, I want you waiting tables.”

“Oh!” Veneer said happily taking the notebook and pen by Bruce’s side, “I’ve always wanted to give this a try.”

“Velvet, you’ll be cleaning up tables today.”

“Why can’t I do the minibar again?”

“I want you guys experienced in every area. So we’re going to get the practice that you need while we can. Besides, it’s all going in your community service record.”

Velvet rolled her eyes as she reached over for an apron, “Fine. Whatever.” She walked behind the counter to collect her cleaning supplies.

“Vennie, Brandy has your waiter outfit ready for you. Go get dressed.”

“Okay!” He was off. Bruce rolled his eyes, a gesture Velvet noticed and scowled at. She waited till Veneer was out of ear shot before she walked over to the Troll.

“Quick word.” She demanded.

“Well thanks a lot for asking. What’s up?” Bruce turned around and looked up at Velvet… he still couldn’t get over how big Rageons really were, much taller than Vacationers.

“There are these young people at the resort that keep giving me and Veneer a hard time. Well, more Veneer now than me but….”

“Oh ya! What’s up with you beating up some of my customers?”

“They were asking for it! They wouldn’t stop…”

“You’re supposed to be redeeming yourself.”

“Yes, but Bruce I was defending-…”

“No excuses.”

“But Veneer, he’ll…”

“He’ll be fine. Now get ready.”

That day and Bruce N Sons was busy. More tourist were coming in day by day… and the one thing they came to see… where the twins.

Word had gotten out that the fallen stars Velvet and Veneer were spending the rest of their time doing some service hours there. People wanted to marvel and see how the twins actually worked… this panicked Bruce. He had to make sure the twins were on top of their game, his reputation was on the line.

But he didn’t hear what they would yell at them: “fakers”, “frauds”, “abusers”… Velvet pulverized a guy the other day for harassing her and her brother. He promised not to press charges on Bruce n Sons but Velvet had to pay his medical fee from her own check. After that incident, many left her alone… but Veneer was a different story.

Velvet watched him as he waited tables, many didn’t withstand giving him a nasty remark. Veneer would just smile and say, “May I take your order?” He loved earning his dues, he loved trying to make it up to the Trolls, despite them not trusting them… it made him feel good. So Velvet couldn’t stand when he allowed anyonento just talk down on him.

Velvet was cleaning near the mini bar when Veneer came up.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this! Look! I even got my first tip!” He pulled out a white piece of paper and opened it…. His face dropped to a frown… “Oh.” Was all he said.

“What? What is it?” Velvet attempted to grab the paper but Veneer withdrew.

“They didn’t have any money on them so they’re just thanked me…with very, colorful words….” He forced a smiled. He’s lying, Velvet thought to herself.

“Whatever. I don’t care.” She fumed and continued to clean.

“Here you go sweety! Order for table 21 is ready.” Brandy chimed as she brought out the food.

“Oh! Okay! I got this! Thanks!” Carefully grabbing the tray Veneer mad his way over to the table. Velvet rolled her eyes as she saw how hard he was working. Pathetic, she thought as she turned her back to him.

CRASH!

The sound of crashing dishes and broken plates echoed through the area. Velvet whipped her head to see Veneer on his knees.

“Oh, no, no, no.” He murmured to himself. Velvet saw that next to him, a group of teens were snickering. One bent over, she could hear the whisper he gave Veneer in his ear, she could read his lips.

“That’s what you get fraud.” The teen snickered spitting on Veneer. Everyone in his table laughed. An anger rushed over Velvet as she saw Veneer helplessly try to gather the fallen plates and food.

“Hey! That was my order!”

“Apparently he can’t even get that right!” People began to shout. The teen who tripped Veneer still hovered over him laughing, making it obvious what he did. Before she could comprehend, Velvet was at her brothers side, pushing the teen back against his booth.

“Hey!” He yelled.

“You leave him alone dickhead!” Velvet scowled.

“Vels!” Veneer warned.

“If I ever see you touching my brother again, I swear-…”

“Velvet!” Bruce’s voice was heard from across the dining area. The small Troll quickly made his way where the twins stood, the teen leaning back in his both in fear. “Vel’s, Ven, what’s going on?”

“She’s threatening me!” The teen pointed towards here. She scowled…Oh how she wanted to rip his arms out..

“He dropped all our food!”

Complaints and shouts began being yelled left and right, Bruces head began to swirl and hurt. This can’t be happening, this restaurant, this resort cannot be going downhill so quickly…he worked to hard for this. And all this, for a batch of criminals he decided to help, all for his brother. Velvet and Veneer had done nothing but mess everything up since the day they kidnapped his brother. Why did Floyd care what happened to them? He should care that his business was going down to the ground.

“Okay, okay!” Bruce held up his hands, attempting his best to keep his cool. “I hear all your complaints, and I’m sorry. I have no control what these two have been up to since their prison days. We agreed on community service to help them…” He turned to look at them directly in the eye, “But they have yet to prove themselves.”

“Are you freaking kidding me! He tripped Veneer on purpose!”

“This is the second time you harass a customer. You CANNOT be doing this! You’re costing me customers, money.”

“She’s just trying to protect me Bruce.” Veneer said as he finally stood up.

“Stop making excuses for her. And could you NOT be clumsy for a second! You keep dropping and breaking things. It costs a lot to replace EVERYTHING you break.”

“But…but sometimes it’s not my fault…It’s…” Veneer casted a side eye at the teens who sat at the booth.

“No excuses. I’ve had enough. I can’t do this anymore. Get out.” Bruce stated with a rising anger in his voice.

“But…but Bruce…” Veneer began to say.

“Out! We’re done.”

Velvet narrowed her eyes at the Troll, “Fine! Screw you!” She grabbed her brother by his wrist and pulled him away before anyone could see the tears forming in his eyes. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose…a gut feeling that he had just done the wrong thing, made the wrong choice, but it was done. One of his other associates picked up the mess and took over the customers, attempting to satisfy them. Bruce needed some time…he walked away and headed towards the back…he needed some space to think, some time away from this chaos. He stopped when there in the hallway, leaning against the wall…was Veneer. He was hugging his knees, tears falling down his face. Velvet was attempting to sooth him, comfort him.

“…Why are things always my fault…” He heard the boy say.

“This isn’t your fault. That jerk kid is going to get what’s coming to him, you’ll see.”

Veneer wiped his tears away, “….Vels….You need to start a new life on your own. People need to see that you really aren’t bad, that you CAN change. I’m just ruining it…You don’t need me doing that…”

“Shut up!” She cut him off.

“But…”

“I said shut up! I’m not leaving you, and your’e not leaving me. You hear me you idiot!” She wiped away some tears that were beginning to fall down her face. “It’s just us two. And we need each other now more than ever. Everyone is going to be mean and we have to be careful..”

“….We deserve it though…After what we did…I don’t blame the Trolls for not forgiving us…”

“I know…I know…” The twins fell silent as they contemplated on what their next steps were….Bruce N Son’s was done with, they messed that up along with everything else they have tried. A feeling hit Bruce in his gut, seeing them now, he began to see the twins in a different light…They were still kids, misguided kids. He couldn’t imagine having his own children misguided into doing things they weren’t supposed to. Luckily they had him and Brandy to guide them along. Who did Velvet and Veneer have? Their parents were gone…They trusted Floyd, and Floyd trusted his brothers to help him…Finally now, Bruce understood why. Both twins sat next to each other against the wall, Velvet leaned her head on her brother’s shoulder, both of them feeling cold and distant…The way they looked, reminded him of his own kids.

With a deep sigh Bruce made his way towards the Rageons. “Hey.” He stated simply. He earned a scowl from Velvet, but a small, weak smile from Veneer. “Listen…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have went off on both of you the way I did. I should’ve heard both sides of the story. You guys have been trying…and you’re not perfect, so why should I expect the work to be perfect. I’m sorry.”

Velvet opened her mouth to say something, but for the first time, she was speechless, she didn’t know what to say. Instead she looked at Veneer. He pursed his lips, “Maybe we should go. Having us here probably isn’t the best…given our reputation. But Floyd tried, you tried….”

“Stop right there kid. I didn’t try. What I did try was to blame you and get rid of you, yeah, that ain’t happening anymore. No you guys deserve a redemption. People need to see the REAL you and not some peacock, pop stars you guys painted yourselves to be. What do you say? Want to give it another shot?” Bruce extended his small hand. The twins looked at each other: Veneer gave his sister a smile and small nudge, Velvet knew this look…he wanted to try again.

She sighed in annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She finally replied.

“Oh! Before we begin again, there’s a small announcement I need to make.” Bruce turned around and headed back towards the busy dining area. The twins looked at each other questionably, they scurried to their feet and quickly followed after Bruce. The small Troll stood on top of the mini bar, with a booming voice he called out…

“Attention all customers of Bruce N Sons!” The crowd quieted and hushed as they heard his booming voice, “Early on, there was a misunderstanding. An accident caused by a reckless load of customers that caused one of my associates to fall.” He eyed the teens, “Don’t deny it! We have cameras! Listen, we all know, and word has spread quickly, that the one and only Velvet and Veneer are here. Rest assured, they are, and they are working for me in hopes of redemption. While they work for me, they will be provided with the same care I give all my associates, and that includes protection from harassing customers.” He pointed out the group of teens, “You guys, out!”

Security came and removed them, sending a wave of talk and murmurs amongst the crowd.

“You may not like it, and you are more than welcomed to leave. I was too worried about loosing customers rather than helping two kids in need. Rest assured, the twins are trying their best, a little socialization never hurt anybody. If you decide to stay, please expect them to be regular faces here for a good while.” Bruce turned and smiled as the twins watched by the door. Turning to face the rest of the crowd, he was surprised to see no one leaving… everyone stayed…, “Alright then, let’s enjoy the rest of the evening!”

Music began to play again, laughter and talking filled the room. Bruce walked over to the twins to find that two of his kids were at Veneer’s ankles.

“Can you play with us pleeeaasssseee?” One begged.

“I uh…” Veneer didn’t know what to say.

“Later kids! He’s got work to do. Veneer start waiting those tables again. We need that happy smile out there.”

“Yes sir!” Veneer chimed as he headed towards the tables. Bruce turned to face Velvet.

“I have something else in mind for you.” He smirked, “How would YOU like to be our bouncer?”

#trolls band together #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer #veneer #velvet #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer trolls #velvet trolls #trolls 3 veneer #trolls 3 velvet #veneer trolls #trolls velvet #trolls bruce #trolls fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #my asks #answered asks #asks

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 22

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19 / Part 20 / Part 21

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: Life carries on...

WC: 2.7k

In New York, your Sunday always starts with Sunday service at your new parish. Plenty of the members you mingle with afterward are as taken with your daughters as the Howards were. Still, none become like family to you like they were. 

You and Melissa slowly rebuild. You get a reputation in your community. Except this time it isn't hidden behind covert speech and business fronts. You and Melissa both slowly become well known as reliable people. Your girls make new friends at their new school, and somehow your house becomes the house all the kids are usually at. Which finds you and your wife sharing looks of exasperation more often. Though those looks are always followed by smiles. Your house is always filled with children, and it’s messier than ever. You and Melissa often find yourself on your hands and knees scrubbing the floors, the walls, and every other surface to keep it as clean as possible. Is this what a normal life is?

Both Cat and Rosie making friends that want to spend most nights and free time around your place is heartwarming. Seeing your twins slowly grow up, without the looming threats of before, is its own blessing. Plus, the children are the ones both you and Mel can immediately care for like family. Especially since there's a decent overlap between the kids your wife now teaches and your daughters. It makes you chuckle when the friends that the girls make go wide-eyed at seeing one of their teachers open the door dressed in sweatpants as opposed to her usual teaching look for the first time. 

The adults, the parents, you're friendly with but neither of you get as close to anyone else as you might have before. You don't have adult gatherings or large Sunday dinners with your house filled. Unless the girls have their friends over. So, your kids’ friends you open your home to with the open knowledge it's a safe place and that Melissa or you are always there if they don't feel they can go to their own parents. Your spare room quickly turns into a safe haven for other children, and your wife’s cooking becomes a fan favorite of your girls’ friends’.

It takes a long time for the girls to stop asking to go see their grandparents, or ‘uncle’ Luca or their other cousins. You don't think they ever fully understand why you always say you can't but eventually they stop asking. Just like they eventually stop trying to correct you on the rare occasions they hear you call Melissa her new name instead of a pet name. Or vice versa. At this point, she’s Raphaela and you’re Saoirse more often than not. So even sometimes in the comfort of your own home, you end up lovingly calling her ‘Raph’. Still though, she’s almost always Mel or whatever Irish pet name you decide to call her at that moment. 

You're careful to overlook their homework whenever they're assigned anything like family trees or their heritage. Most of it, you don't have to lie, at least. Though if you see names not your alias’, you're swift to change it before it's ever turned in. 

You feel like you blink and your little kindergartners are in middle school. Cat's injuries she'd had when you moved here are nothing more than a scar that she tells a different story for anytime anyone asks. You blame your wife for that one. Once she'd been old enough to start being self-conscious of it, Melissa had told her she could have it mean anything she wanted it to. So, of course, your oldest took that advice to heart. The scars mean whatever she wants them to, given a story to match at any moment.

Rosie still has nightmares about the shooting and the days and weeks spent holed up in that one little hall at the hospital in Philly. You think Cat does as well though she never says so. She doesn't wake up screaming some nights like her sister does.

It absolutely broke your heart the first time it happened. It was almost two in the morning when you heard shrill shrieks coming from their bedroom, followed by frantically whimpering out “Moms, moms!” Both of you had bolted up in bed, terrified at what you might find. Your life flashed before your eyes before you got up to see what the ruckus was- did someone from Cosa Nostra find you out again? Their bedroom door was whipped open to see a teary-eyed Rosie curled up with her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth and clutched at her scar. Cat looked genuinely terrified at what was happening with her sister.

“Stellina,” your wife had whispered as she pulled your trembling daughter into your lap. “What has you so upset?” You perched yourself on her bed too, a hand reaching out to rub soothing circles on her back in hopes of calming her down.

Your little girl had hiccuped her way through her nightmare as she clung to your wife. All Melissa could do is whisper her love for your youngest and promise everything would be okay before whisking her away and into your own bed for the night. Cat promised she was okay to stay in their own room. 

 As they age, it isn't as frequent. Still, there are some nights you wake up to your youngest accidentally elbowing you in the ribs as she squeezes between you and your wife. Just like the two of them had been that night. You thank your stars that she feels the need to stay with you both to make sure everyone's alright instead of avoiding doing so at all.

As they grow, other things change too. At this very moment, it’s the idea that the girls pick out their own outfits that is on your mind. 

“Uh uh.” Melissa says firmly, her hand raising to twirl her index finger around. “Go change. You’re not goin’ nowhere dressed like that.”

Your brows raise at the sound of your wife, though you don’t look up from the work you’re doing at the kitchen table. You’re trying to get ahead on next week's numbers so that you can have a staycation of sorts. You’ll still be available if anybody at the business really needs you but you’ll be home. Melissa’s, and the girls’, school is going on summer break. You can’t take that much time off, but you try to take some. Especially the first week. The next few sees both Cat and Rosie away at summer camp.

You and Melissa had been reluctant the first year they asked to go, worried out of your minds about if it would be safe or not. Until you’d talked with some of the other parents who were sending some of your daughters’ friends as well. You’d done a bit of research into the facility as well. It wasn’t until you and your wife were awake well into the early hours of the morning that you had started laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?” your wife asked you as you continued to full belly laugh, almost manically. 

“We don’t have to do this shit anymore.” You had answered as you shut your laptop, blindly tossing it down your bed before rubbing your eyes. “We don’t have to be paranoid ‘bout a fuckin’ summer camp. That’s the whole goddamn point. Nobody knows.”

Melissa had sighed, slumping into your side. “Christ. It’s been years and we’re still living like we got ghosts over our shoulders.”

You had turned your head enough to kiss her temple as your hand shifted to get your fingers through her hair. “We do. It’s always gonna feel like we do, anyway. But we’re awake at fuckin’ two am researching every fuckin’ person that works at a summer camp.” You can’t help but laugh again. “We should let ‘em go. They can be normal. I keep forgettin’ that.”

“Me too. We’ll tell ‘em tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow evening.” You had bargained. “I can’t handle screams of shrill excitement until dinner time.”

Now, you tap away at your laptop at your kitchen table, listening to the brewing argument. The girls are only going to movies with their friend group and dinner after. A few of the other parents are chaperoning, though you and your wife aren’t. She’s up to her eyeballs in grading and prepping for the end of the school year, and you’re flooded with the financials you’re handling. You haven’t looked away from your screen to see your eldest’s outfit but considering it’s Melissa vetoing it; you’re pretty sure you agree. Your wife tends to be more lax between the two of you.

“Mam! Will you please tell Ma that this is not inappropriate?” Cat calls for you, trying to drag you into the argument.

You see Melissa flinch from the corner of your eye at being called ‘Ma’. She’s still adjusting. It was only recently that both the twins had said it was embarrassing to call her mommy still. 

“Mommy, it’s embarrassing,” Cat had groaned at lunch after church. “Rosie and I are twelve now.”

Your wife glanced over to your youngest, who looked to be at war with herself in her head. “Rosie?”

The girl in question just shrugged her shoulders. “It is a little embarrassing.”

Melissa frowned. She didn’t want to be embarrassing to her girls. If she’s being honest, she remembers having this very conversation with her own mother, probably around the same age. 

She hadn’t let them see her cry about it, waiting for when you both retired to your bedroom that night to let her heartache over it out. 

“My love,” you had tried to placate that night. “It will all be okay.”

“Our girls are embarrassed by me!” she whimpered into your chest.

“They’re not embarrassed by you,” you promised her. “They’re just a little embarrassed at the name they call you.”

“I’ve been mommy their whole lives!”

“Yes,” you sighed softly, dropping a kiss to her hair. “But they are getting older now, and things change. You and I know that so well.”

“But I didn’t want this to change,” she told you quietly, wiping at her tears. “Dammit, Y/N. You got lucky, always being ‘mam’.”

“I know, my love. I know.”

“God, is this what my mother felt like when we stopped calling her ‘mommy’ out in public?” Melissa laughed bitterly. 

Reluctantly, she said they could call her Ma to keep from getting confused with calling you both variations of mom. She hated the stereotypical Italian way to refer to her, even though it was how she referred to her own mother. Still, she relented. Except she refused to refer to herself that way.

“Nah uh, don’t go dragging Mam into this, Catherine Ann!” Melissa retorts swiftly before you can even look away from your laptop. “Mommy already said no! Now go change or you’re gonna be stuck stayin’ home instead of the movies while your sister goes without you!”

“Ugh!” Cat sneers at the use of the nickname. “You said you’d stop sayin’ that!” She reminds your wife, though she sounds more snobby about it than anything. “It’s so embarrassing, and so is what you let me wear! All our other friends dress like this, it’s fine!”

“I said you and your sister could stop callin’ me Mommy; I’m still gonna say it in the comfort of our own home. I don’t care if it’s embarrassin’- it’s just us! Just like I don’t care if Carla’s Ma lets her dress like that! I ain’t Carla’s Ma! I’m yours, and you and your sister are not leaving this house dressed like that. Now, for the last time, go change. You sass me again, and I swear you’ll be stuck here with me and your Mam all night.”

You wince at the very pointed stomping of feet back up the stairs that signals Cat’s reluctant retreat to change. If you listen closely, you can hear her grumbling too.

“God, I’m already gettin’ a migraine,” You mutter, bracing yourself when you hear more timid steps coming down the stairs a second later. You don’t have to look to know it’s Rosie. Your youngest took a little more time getting ready, likely debating how much she could get away with unlike her sister who had come down in whatever she wanted.

You finally look away from your screen, scanning your youngest twin’s outfit from head to toe. You raise an eyebrow- there are a few pieces of it you’d veto if it were you and she’s definitely wearing too much makeup, but you have no doubt it’s all more tame than what her sister was wearing. You glance up to Melissa standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her arms are still crossed and she’s still fuming a bit from arguing with Cat.

“Those my heels?” Melissa finally mutters when she gets to looking at Rosie’s feet. She looks back up to your daughter with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t have any shoes that didn’t clash with the belt, Mommy,” your youngest says softly, averting eye contact. 

Oh, Rosie was good. She knew when to pull out the Mommy card, unlike Cat. You knew she didn’t like calling Melissa it around their friends any more than her sister did but right now, it was just the four of you in your house. Rosie wasn’t afraid to use the affectionate term to her advantage, especially in the wake of her sister being sent back upstairs. She also knew that if there was fashion faux pas, your wife would be more lenient.

Finally, Melissa hums. Her arms uncross enough for her hand to wave away your youngest. “Go. ‘fore I change my mind.”

Rosie beams a smile, quickly kissing both of Melissa’s cheeks. “Thank you, Mommy. Te amo. I promise we’ll be back before eleven.”

“Before ten, Rose Marie.” You correct her attempt at a later curfew sternly.

“Before ten.” She parrots in confirmation before she kisses your cheek. “Te amo, Mam.”

“Te amo.” You echo as she hurries to get out of the kitchen before either of you can find fault with what she’s wearing. “Make sure your sister stays out of trouble, huh?” You add just before she disappears from sight. You get a shouted promise of it before you hear the front door open and shut for Rosie to wait on the front porch for her sister. No doubt a small gaggle of their friends are already there waiting, too.

Your eldest comes stomping down the steps a few minutes later, a deep frown written into her face.

“Are you happy? I look like a nun now,” Cat huffs as she shows off her new outfit. She’s completely covered. Melissa raises a brow and folds her arms again. You glance at her look.

“Catherine Ann, stop being ridiculous. Go change into something that you know we’ll approve of while still being a pre-teen,” you sigh.

“What the-”

“That sentence better end with ‘heck’,” you warn quickly. Cat groans and heads back up the steps.

“She takes after you,” you mutter as you put your head into your hands. “Attitude.”

“She shouldn’t even be going,” your wife tells you. “I told her anymore sass, and she wasn’t going.”

“Please don’t put me through a night of a hellish Cat,” you practically beg her. “Please, mo ghrá. My head is already pounding with everything that I’m trying to get done tonight so we can relax during the first week of summer.”

“You’re lucky I love you so damn much,” Melissa grumbles as she walks over to where you sit . She pecks your cheek and sets a hand on your shoulder.

“I know,” you chuckle as you reach a hand up to set over hers. “I love you too.”

Your daughter comes down again, appropriately dressed. “Better, Ma?”

Your wife glances over it, and then she frowns. “Are those Mam’s shoes?”

“Rosie is literally wearing yours!” Cat points towards the door in emphasis.

“Just go, honey,” you tell your eldest. “Before I lose my sanity entirely.”

“We’ll be back by eleven,” your daughter tells you as she begins to walk away.

“Ten!” you call back. “And don’t think I won’t be texting Lexi’s mother to make sure that you’re back by then!”

[romanarose]

You'd Love Me If I Was a Worm, Would You Love Me If I Was A Man?

Santiago Garcia x transman!reader

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist

Made for the Oscar/Pedro Pride Event

Summary: You're Santi's wife or so he thinks, he loves you very, very much... You're scared to ruin it with honesty.

Or

You come out as trans to Santi

Warnings: Pretty mild, Santi is perfect. Gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, mentions of conversion therapy.

AN: This is just based on my feelings right now. IDK exactly how I identify, but doing things like cutting my hair and dressing more masculine has helped me a lot. No one needs to cut their hair short to be a man, trans or otherwise, nor does a trans person NEED surgery or any changes. This is simply based on my experience. People feel this differently.

1k words

“How’s my favorite girl?”

Santi greeted you as he came home, finding you in your bathroom staring at your face and your body in your underwear, cringing at him calling you a girl but trying to hide the visceral reaction. You hated your hair, you hated how feminine it made you look, but you knew Santi loved it, so you kept it long and usually in a ponytail.No matter how hard you tried, no matter the body positivity, no matter how good you objectively looked and how Santiago worshiped it, none of it felt right to you. You’d been considering telling him how you’d been feeling for some time, but it felt selfish. How could you tell him you thought you might be a man when he fell in love with a woman?

He clocked your cringe, as he always did your discomfort. “What’s wrong, bebita?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, just tired.”

“I don’t believe you for a second, c’mon.” taking your hand, Santi pulls you into the bedroom and sits you down with him, his eyes pleading with you for honesty. “You can talk to me, it’s okay.”

Your eyes fill up with tears, stressing out and over thinking it all so much. “It’s not fair to you.” You begin to cry, and it isn’t. This isn't what Santi signed up for when he married you. He married his wife, not whatever was happening to you right now. You should’ve told him, you should’ve been honest with from the start. “I thought this would go away, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I lied to you!”

Horrified at the tears, Santiago pulls you into his arms. “Oh honey… whatever it is, you can tell me, please. Nothing is too much, you’re my wife, and I’m gonna take care of you, always.” 

It couldn’t be hidden anymore. You had to be honest before you wasted more of his time. Pulling back, you look him in the eyes, your own still watering. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m your wife…” You watch his eye widen and you realize your choice of words was poor. “Nonono! Not like that!” You’re quick to reassure him you aren’t leaving him. He’ll probably leave you, however. “I just mean…” Big breath. “I feel… like I’m a man.”

He looked confused for a second before recognition registered on his face.

“Oh… how long have you felt this way?” You couldn’t get a read on his reaction yet, but he still held your hands.

“I really, really long time, Santi. I thought I’d grow out of it…”

He nods. “Since you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “I tried to tell my parents but… they… They sent me away.”

Santiago’s face hardened at that. “Conversion therapy?”

Memories flooded back to what you suffered there, creating a fresh bout of tears down your face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I tried to put it away but nothing worked! I know you probably don’t want me any more but please, please I’m gonna try, I can go to therapy again-”

You try to tell him that you can change, to give you a chance and you’ll fix it, trying to walk yourself back into the closet after being out less than 5 minutes, but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Baby,” He stresses, pain on his face as cups your cheek with his hands, thumbing away a tear. “I’m not leaving you, and you are not going to conversion therapy, you hear me? That is not happening. We’re gonna do whatever we need to do to make you feel comfortable with yourself, okay? If that means transitioning, then we’ll make it happen.”

In shock, you blink. “But… Santi, you’re not gay…”

Santiago chuckles a little. “I don’t really know how this works, to be honest. I didn’t think I was either but… I love you. I’m attracted to you. That’s what I know.” When you didn’t look convinced, he continued. “Remember all the times you asked me if I’d love you if you were a worm?”

You giggle a little at the memory, beginning to feel better. “Yeah, you were confused.”

He nods with a smile. “Yeah, so were most of the guys. But Will told me it’s not about if I’d actually love you if you were a worm, because you’d never actually be a worm. It’s about being reassured that no matter what, I’d still be yours and you’d still be mine. So I told you I’d make you a little garden like Oscar the grouch has for wormy.”

You’re smiling now too. “And read me worm versions of fairy tales before bed.”

“And kiss your little worm head, because I love you. So, if you feel like you are a man, and you want to live life as man and if that makes me gay then yeah. I’m gay. I don’t really care about that. I care about you.”

"And... maybe, maybe its not even that I'm a man... just maybe not fully a woman?"

"Like, one of those in between things?"

You laugh at his wording. He may not have the best terminology, but he tries.

He sighs softly, holding your face. "If you feel like you're non... binary?" He asks questioningly, and you nod so he continues. "Or half and half or non at all... that's okay too. Whatever you are, i's what you are, and you're still you to me. But, baby." He kisses the tip of your nose. "Don't try and lessen it for me, okay? If you want to live and be fully as man, then that's what it is."

Letting his words sink in, your heart fills with love at his unconditional affection. “So… what next? What do I even do now?”

“Well,” Santi considers next steps. “I think we try to get you in with a doctor. I don’t think it goes straight to surgery,” He says with a tease. “But maybe hormones? I don’t know. I can talk to Ben whenever you’re ready for me to, I know he knows more of this than I do.”

“Can we maybe…” Your reach for a tissue, blowing it as you calm down more and more. “Can I maybe start with a haircut.”

This makes Santi laugh, standing up and taking you with him to capture you in a full body hug. “Of course we can! You don’t need my permission to get a haircut, mi cielo!” You notice how he immediately changed to masculine gendered terms of endearment. “Santi peppered kisses all over your face. “Wanna go today?”

You’re so excited at the idea, you readily agree.

An hour later, the kind stylist is chopping off your hair. As she gives you a moment to sit with the cut, Santi comes up behind the chair, wrapping his arms around you. “How do you feel, mi amor.” He says with a kiss to your neck.

You take in this first step, the start of a journey that you knew wouldn’t be easy but you had the best person ever by your side.

“I think… I actually feel like myself.”

shout out to @hee-blee-art for these cute ass dividers that were wierdly specific to this story lol

Most unrealistic thing about this fic is reader saying Santi isn't gay. Did we see the same movie? homosexual activity was hapeing on those mountains

HAPPY PRIDE!!! I can't wait to see what everyone did for this event <3

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #bi santiago garcia #bisexual santiago garcia #pride #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 #trans reader #trans masc reader #Santiago garcia trans masc reader #triple frontier x reader #santiago garcia fluff #fluff #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fluff #pride 2024

[wrongdodo]

Waiting

Characters: Dad!Whitney, Mum!Reader, and your daughter Riley (featuring GN!River and GN!Robin)

Genre: Fluff/Angst (it DO get angsty...)

Warnings/Content: Unplanned pregnancy, brief allusion to abortion. Parenthood angst. Swears.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Riley’s turning 5 soon, and will be finishing pre-school in spring. You and Whitney meet with a local principal to discuss her enrolment – and it’s a familiar face.

A/N: I might do a longer A/N in another post because I have some THOUGHTS. This was super hard to write, but I’m so glad I persevered (thanks @propertyofwhitney67 for being my sounding board) First version was too fluffy, second version was too angsty… hopefully this one is just right. I like it :)

A/N 2: I posted some thoughts.

The ticking clock is deafening.

You’re pretty sure life never used to involve this much waiting. But now, it felt like there was always a reason to wait.

It’s a battle to stop your foot tip-tapping against the tiles, and Whitney’s not faring much better. Oh, he tries to hide it, but you’ve known him long enough to spot the signs. Nibbling lightly on his sleeve, eyes glued to the clock. He’s tense, and it’s understandable given the circumstances. Whitney had insisted on arriving early to make a ‘good impression’. So far, it just meant more time sitting anxiously in the school corridor.

You hate waiting. You’d done your fair share, and it never got easier.

You remember waiting in the orphanage bathroom, where it took 3 minutes for tiny lines to appear on a piss-dipped stick. You were alone then, perched on the bathtub – so nauseous you might splatter the ceramic with vomit. Responsible boyfriend Whitney had insisted on using protection… Well, there were a few occasions where it might have been overlooked in the heat of the moment. You remember how panic’s long fingers wrapped your throat. And the guilt, too. Fertile little slut, aren’t you? Your own words. Whitney never blamed you, but there was no need when you were so good at that yourself.

You waited to tell Whitney you were pregnant – 12 lonely hours that left you feeling hollowed out with worry. You’d never discussed kids – because you were teenagers.  Better tell him in person, you thought, staring at the ceiling through raw, reddened eyes. It’s the right thing to do. Ironic how you were so sure of yourself then –so naive. Parenthood raises so many questions, and not nearly enough answers. You wished you could still be so sure of the right thing to do.

Part of you still wishes you hadn’t waited to tell him in person, because you wish you’d never seen the colour drain from Whitney’s face. Rarely one to offer you the comfort of privacy, he’d insisted that whatever his slut had to say, it could be said on the roof in front of everyone. All you could manage was a whisper, but the impact was blinding. He vanished like smoke. You didn’t see or speak to Whitney for two days.

So, you waited.

He was waiting, too, ‘til those nasty, fearful, fucked up feelings could be gathered up and squashed down in the pit of his stomach - right where they fucking belong. He waited ‘til his knuckles were bruised against bricks, until his eyes stung dry in their sockets. Only then did he come to find you. When he did, Whitney clung to you fearfully as he waited for the right words to come. They didn’t for a long time.

You waited together for the first appointment, in a room much like this one – beige floor tiles, fluorescent light and walls tinged with pale piss-yellow paint. Whitney was nervous then, gripping your hand hard enough to hurt. You’d let him.

Despite fear, he never pushed you. Right off the bat, he told you he’d support any decision you chose to make, as any noble impregnator should. At the time, you tried hard to feel grateful – because it felt shitty not to be. Wasn’t he being so supportive, letting you take the lead?

But… it was lonely. It wasn’t until recently he’d shamefully admitted how it was easier to distance himself – leaving you to make that tough decision on your own. He’s sorry for that.

That was a long time ago, in another life. It would be Riley’s birthday soon – 5 years old, holy shit. Hard to believe she’d be finishing pre-school in summer, and starting Primary School in autumn. Picking the right school for your daughter was one of those Big Family Decisions you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to making. Now, you’re waiting to meet with the principal, to discuss Riley’s admission. You know to expect a familiar face.

River had been in charge of Willow Primary School for 3 years. From what you’d researched, they’d switched jobs shortly after Leighton’s arrest – who could blame them for wanting a fresh start? This school was going from strength to strength with River at the helm – and that’s exactly the reason you’d chosen it. All that remained was to convince them that Riley would be an excellent addition. How hard could it be? She’s a star.

“D’ya think River’ll remember us?” Whitney whispers, his eyes fixed on the clock. There’s no need to keep your voices low - there’s nobody else around, and the receptionist clearly doesn’t care. She’s busy clacking at her keyboard while the phone rings endlessly.

You smile wistfully. “Oh, they’ll remember you.” Easy answer – River probably still had flashbacks.  

“You think?” Whitney stretches in the uncomfortable seat, leaning back. The flimsy chair creaks in protest. “Yeah… probly right…”

It startles you when the office door finally swings open; the sudden noise causes you both to stiffen in your seats. River looks… much the same as they did years ago, in all honesty. Only their hair’s a little greyer and they’re dressed a little smarter – a sharp suit befitting their new role as leader of a successful school. They look the part.

But practiced, professional composure is no match for the shock of seeing Whitney sat opposite – older, but still completely recognisable. In fact, you’re not even sure River notices you. When they speak, it’s not to you.

“Whitney,” they stride over, palm outstretched. “Always thought I’d be retired before any of your offspring made it into the school system.” You wonder how long River’s had that line rehearsed. You’re surprised to feel yourself relax; there’s some comfort in the familiarity of the teacher’s face.

Your eyes flicker to Whitney; he seems a little less anxious too - the sight of his old maths teacher must be reigniting a relaxed confidence. It’s not like Whitney was ever afraid of River – far from it. But it was safe to say they always had an interesting dynamic.

“River,” he nods, grasping the outstretched hand. Knowing Whitney, it’s sure to be an overly-firm handshake.

“And…” River’s expression wavers as they turn towards you – it’s painfully clear they’ve forgotten your name. Still, it doesn’t stop them from thrusting a hand into yours. There’s no choice but to reintroduce yourself. Maybe you can forgive their lapse in memory – you’re a pair of ghosts, after all.

Tentatively, you’re led inside the small office. It’s neat and organised – nothing like Leighton’s was. If anything, it’s little soulless, despite a few little touches of character. River settles behind the large wooden desk, and you perch on two chairs opposite. The air smells of… nothing. A vase of artificial sunflowers gather dust on the windowsill. There’s a school motto emblazoned on the wall, in an aggressively cursive font makes it impossible to read.

“Is little Riley not joining us?”

“No, she’s with a friend,” you explain. “They’re meeting us here after, though.”

It never actually occurred to you to bring Riley along – it might have been a smart move, actually. Your daughter regularly has strangers eating out of her hand.

“So,” River leans back, trying their best to look comfortable. “What can you tell me about Riley?”

Whitney glances to you expectantly. Looks like Mum’s fielding the first question.

“Well… she’s a great kid…” Already, you feel your shoulders ease into shrug, because it’s hard to know where to begin. Still, River seems to be hanging on your every word. “She’s turning 5 next month… She’s happy – really smart for her age. She’s can write her name, and her reading’s coming along really well, and-”

“You wanna see her, right?” Whitney doesn’t need a response - he’s tapped open his camera roll and is leaning over - fully prepared to give River a detailed context for each and every photograph. You smile knowingly. There’s likely to be a whole lot of photos.

You wonder which particular album River’s being treated to. Riley feeding ducks at the park in her brand-new raincoat… or maybe Riley wrapped in a striped football scarf, cheeks flushed with cold in the stands. Maybe it’s Riley throwing a tea party for her sizable plushie collection – you can never remember all their names like Dad can, or do the voices right. Whitney’s, beaming of course - once he gets started, there’s not much that can stop him.

But as extensive as the collection of snapshots is, you know it barely scratches the surface of what goes on at home. For instance, there’s probably no photos of Whitney tending Riley’s grazes after she fell off her first bike last spring – you still remember the pep-talk he gave her, because she parrots it back to you all the time. There’s probably no video of Whitney reading the Gruffalo for the 7th time in a row, just to soothe his feverish girl back to sleep after a nightmare. You’re pretty certain there’s no picture of him anxiously fiddling with his keys all day, just in case Riley needed picking up early from her first day of preschool. She didn’t.

“She has her dad’s eyes, then,” River turns to you, appealing for a little help getting the meeting back on track. Whitney’s far too engrossed to notice the teacher’s growing indifference – it’s a little funny. Who wouldn’t want to see all the awesome stuff his kid gets up to? Just look at her, she’s the best.

 Anyone with half a brain could see that Riley had inherited most of her looks from Dad – those striking blue eyes were probably the best evidence. Her hair was beginning to darken now, as blonde hair often does as children reach Riley’s age. You’d not seen many photos of Whitney as a kid, but the few you had seen made it clear that the resemblance was spooky.

“Yeah,” Whitney beams, running a hand through his hair. “Not just my eyes, though. Same nose too, right River?” He’s gushing, in his element - full Dad-flow. In that moment, anyone in could be forgiven for thinking fatherhood is something Whitney always saw for himself. It’s pretty special.

After humouring a couple more photos, River politely slides the phone back across the desk. On screen, your daughter grins back – a smattering of freckles kiss the bridge of her nose, just beneath her sparkly purple sunglasses and a big straw hat. Whitney must have taken this one at the beach last summer.

River’s nodding briskly as Whitney finally pockets his phone. He looks relieved. You chat a little longer about the academics, with the teacher guiding conversation. You hear about Riley’s class, and who her teacher is likely to be. And you notice you’re… kinda rocking it. For a moment you wonder why you’d ever felt so nervous.

“What about… socially? Any issues?” River queries, tenting their fingers curiously.

It’s an innocent enough question, of course – exactly the sort of thing they’d asked at Riley’s pre-school. And it’s easy to answer honestly, because you couldn’t have been blessed with a more perfect kid.

You tell River everything – how Riley could find friends in an empty room, and how she always says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. From dance class on Monday, through to football training on Sunday morning… she’s a total ray of sunshine.

“Okay, let me rephrase…” It’s clear that River is considering their next words carefully. “Any… behavioural problems we should know about?”

Subtext hangs like a foul smell. Ah, there it is - judgement. You were no stranger to it as young parents – but you hadn’t been prepared for it to take this particular form. River wants your crystal-clear assurance. Can you blame them for asking?

What they want to ask is this - is your daughter going to cause us any trouble?

Whitney’s quick to respond like a whip. “No, she’s great. Like, the greatest kid ever… Everyone just loves her as soon as they meet her, y’know?” You sense his guard rising. The quiver in his voice is subtle; River won’t have noticed. Later, you wonder if it hurt Whitney to hear his daughter assessed against on his own misdeeds as a teen.

You offer your own thoughts, trying to diffuse the building tension – it’s probably standard question, after all. “Well, there was a hair-pulling phase, but she grew out of that pretty quick…” you pause, searching your mind for anything else that might be worth mentioning. There really isn’t much. “She doesn-“

“I get it,” Whitney’s cutting you off. “You want to know she’s a little shit, right? Like me?”

His pointed tone takes River entirely off guard. You grip Whitney’s thigh under the desk, aiming to reassure him. It’s bouncing restlessly.

You’d sensed River’s prejudice too, of course… but despite the past, it’s not exactly fair. Riley’s 4. A familiar pallor plasters the teacher’s face as they stutter and backtrack, but Whitney’s on a roll now. He was never going to take any shit from his ex-maths teacher – be it real or perceived.

“Don’t worry. My kid’s nothing like me,” Whitney’s indignant, spitting words like venom. “That’s what you’re asking, right?”

Fear of fatherhood isn’t something Whitney discusses. But those feelings have to get bottled up somewhere… occasionally they explode – spitting and hissing like a wounded cat. That’s what’s happening right now in River’s office. Becoming a dad had changed Whitney in many ways… but clearly, his distrust of authority figures still runs pretty deep.

Not that yelling was a common occurrence at home. Whitney so rarely raised his voice, unless in response to some perceived danger or delight. Actually, you were a little envious. How did he manage to stay so chilled out, when you were both exhausted and running on fumes? Riley was far from a bad kid, but she could be stubborn, cheeky and opinionated. No prizes for guessing where she inherited those traits.

You know there’s probably no coming back from this - it’s all gone to shit. Whitney’s risen from the chair, still going.

“Know what?” he shrugs fiercely - gripping your arm, ready to leave. “You don’t deserve my daughter at your shitty school.”

At this point, there might still be some salvaging this – it’s a good school, after all. A grovelling phone call, or a heartfelt email detailing the stress you’re under. Maybe River will understand. Parenthood’s not easy, after all – and it’s not like either of you have much family support. It’s hard – and you’re sure lots of parents snap from time to time.

As Whitney pulls you away from the office, he leans back through the doorway, fixing his ex-teacher with a final sour assessment.

“Fuck you, you old cunt.”

Yeah, maybe there’s no fixing this after all.

You’re dragged down the corridor, past the stricken face of the receptionist… and the phone’s still ringing as you’re yanked through double doors into the crisp afternoon air.

When you reach the school gates, Whitney huffs deeply and leans against the railings. He’s lighting a cigarette, wasting no time in an effort to settle his adrenaline. The weather’s dry, but he hoists the hood of his jacket around his head.

You wait. It’s impossible to know what should be said. Sentence starters flicker through your mind, but none of them taste quite right. You let him smoke in silence for a bit.

“… There’s other schools,” you extend to the stillness. Whitney’s staring anywhere but your direction, waiting for uncomfortable feelings to simmer down enough before he speaks.

“I fucked up,” he mumbles. It’s painfully clear from the tightness in his jaw how much he knows it, too.

Still, he lets you squeeze his hand.

“Yeah, well… I’m proud of you for sticking up for her,” you offer in reply.

“Fuck off,” he scoffs. As he squeezes your hand back, you wonder if he might mean thank you.

You check your phone – there’s 1 new message from Robin. You hastily tap a reply. “They won’t be long.”

Whitney nods. His shoulders fall in a sigh; turned protectively away, avoiding your eyes. You can tell he’s gathering words.

"I mean what I said. Riley’s nothing like me… and I’m fucking glad. Because she’s awesome.”

It stings. It’s hard to see Whitney so insecure after all this time – still unable to see the amazing parent he’s become, and how adored he is. A fucking natural. You were jealous.

“She’s a lot like you, Whit…” It’s easy to list the ways – they’d been staring you in the face for 5 years. “She’s funny, feisty, loving, fearless... Not to mentionsuper clever… people just flock to her… Want me to keep going?”

He hums dismissively – studying the pavement. He takes a long, deep drag of nicotine before speaking.

“I just… I can’t believe she’s not messed up, y’know? Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing…”

Now that feeling was all too familiar. Your hand cluthes his in wordless solidarity.

It’s a while before the right words find your tongue.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

Emotion needles at your throat. Because all too easy to remember a time when you thought he might not do this with you. You remember how scary that felt.

He’s wrapping an arm around your shoulder, squeezing firm enough to knock a little breath from your chest. “Wouldn’t do it with anyone else, idiot…” A kiss brushes your hair. “Get used to it.”

You smile, tucking yourself against Whitney’s chest. Over your shoulder, he’s looking down the street beneath coiling smoke. Waiting.

Sure enough, Riley and Robin round the corner, holding hands. It’s hard to tell exactly, but it looks as though your daughter is carrying a big stick in one hand – joyously tap-tapping it against the railings. Robin waves.

Whitney waves back, extinguishing his cigarette against the ground. He’d grown to appreciate Robin – they were a total godsend. Riley adored them, and the feeling was mutual.

“It’s cool that you two are still close,” Whitney muses. “Might be cool for Riley to have a little brother or sister or something…”

Before you can reply, Riley’s sprinting over – almost like he planned it. Her stick lays discarded on the pavement, and you can see a crown of daisies looped around her head. Little arms outstretched; she’s running over to you both with the biggest grin wrinkling her freckled nose. No, she’s running to Whitney.Of course – Daddy’s girl.

Whitney scoops her up easily, spinning round as she laughs and squeals and snorts with laughter.

“This my new school?” Riley asks breathlessly. You pick a stray daisy from her dark blonde fringe.

She’s tumbled her over in Dad’s arms; dangling, giggling and wriggling.

“Nah, not here," he kisses her squirming cheek. "You’re gonna go to a better school, squirt.”

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fluff #degrees of lewdity fanfiction #dol fanfic #whitney the bully #whitney x reader #dol whitney

[rendy-a]

Hi! Apologies if this request is too vague or specific but can I request a fic of Jack Howl x reader who’s a night owl kind of person and is much shorter than him, thank you!

Thanks for requesting. I don't get a lot of asks for Jack, so its a nice exercise to write something for him. I hope I captured him correctly.

‘Crazy,’ Jack thinks for the hundredth time after befriending the strange Prefect of Ramshackle dorm.  You can see this thought pass through his face, but it only makes you laugh more.  “Come on, you know you’ll enjoy it.”  Jack sighs, “Why can’t you ever pick anything to do that occurs during a normal person’s day?”  You lift your hand high to pat your tall friend on the shoulder and laugh, “I’ll convert you eventually,” and chuckle at the resulting scoff.

It is said that opposites attract, and nothing could be more fitting to describe the closeness that has developed between you and Jack.  You were short and he was tall.  You were always laughing, and he was so serious.  The point that seemed to cause you the most contention was that you lived for the late evening hours when the darkness crept in and the sky awoke with stars.  You loved the way the insects would sing in the night and the dampness of the coming dew that settled over everything.  Jack, on the other hand, went to bed early and woke up at some god-awful hour in the morning.  He would tell you any time you brought it up why he liked it, but you just didn’t see it.  Noisy birds chirping?  Bright and garish sunrises?  Having the whole campus to yourself for a jog?  What was the charm in that?  So, you’d taken it upon yourself to show him the beauty of the night whenever you could.  You’d change his mind eventually or at least have fun trying!

“Tell me again why we can’t just watch these movies on the weekend?” Jack asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.  You grab his arm and lay your head pleadingly on his bicep, “Awe, come on!  Late night movie marathons are the best!”  When you see him turn away as though he can’t meet your eye, you know you almost have him.  Time for your most convincing argument.  “Please, please, please, please, please!!!”  Jack sighs with a huff and gives in to your demand but makes you promise to at least have something healthy for a snack.  “Ok, fine,” you offer conceding, “I’ll even prove my commitment to healthy snacks by asking Vil for some suggestions.”  Jack thanks you for going so far out of your way for him and gives you an approving pat on the head.  Finally, your late-night horror fest with your best pal Jack is a go!  And you got a head pat; way to go you!

You were halfway through Horror from the Deep when you could feel the sleepiness creep up.  Jack had fallen asleep twice, for which you teased him relentlessly, and so you were determined to make it through the entire retro horror movie marathon without missing a second.  “Should we call it a day?” asked Jack with a raised eyebrow.  You force your fluttering eyes to full-open and ask, “What?  Why?” as though you didn’t know the answer.  He huffs at your ridiculous defiance and remarks, “You’re no better than my kid brother at admitting when you are tired.”  You frown, “So what, I’m like your sibling now?”  Jack seems disturbed by this suggestion and lowers his ears as he stammers an apology.  Well, this was awkward now.  You turn your attention back to the movie, forcing yourself to focus on that instead of the warm (and firm) arm you are leaning against.  Just like friends.  Only friends. 

By the time the monster emerges onto the beach, you are sleeping deeply while pulling Jack’s arm into a hug.  He gives a half-hearted tug before deciding to abandon the effort and leans to rest his head on top of your own.  Sleeping like this won’t be so bad.  But only because he has too, not because he’s been dreaming about this.  No, certainly you didn’t have a friendship like that.  Of course not.

In the deep hours of the night, when you’re not quite sure if you should refer to it as night or morning, you awaken.  Your sleepy noises bring Jack to alertness before you can really take in how close you were.  You sigh and look at your movie partner bashfully, “Guess we will have to rewatch that one later, huh?”  Jack gives you a smug smile in response and suddenly you are laughing together.  There is a strange magic to the twilight and perhaps that is why Jack suddenly asks, “Walk me home?”  You smile at him, glad to have an excuse to drag this time out, “Sure.” 

You walk side by side in the misty fog that rolls off the grass during the pre-morning hours.  The effect was mysterious, like the setting of those late-night horror movies you’d watched.  You decided that you liked it.  You lean toward your companion to share your insight, “See Jack, this is exactly the sort of reason I love the night so much.”  Jack gives you a bit of side-eye and dryly remarks, “That fog is there because its nearly morning.”  You are startled by his comment, “Wait, what?”  Looking around, you realize he is right, it has grown so late that it was nearly morning.  The stars still gleamed in the sky, but you couldn’t deny the hint of brightness that was creeping from the horizon and the music of insects was slowly intermixing with the earliest of bird calls. 

You look around, taking in the atmosphere of the hour, “So this is the death of night, huh?”  Jack scoffs, “So dramatic.”  You smile, secretly pleased at getting such a response from him.  “Is it always this…fresh smelling?” you ask him pensively.  He takes a deep breath and lets out the most satisfying exhale, “Yeah, it is.”  You continue watching him with a smile, “I kind of like it.”  Jack’s ears twitch as though thinking something over, “Yeah but sometimes it’s too bright.  This is nice too, easy on the eyes.”  You give his arm a tap with your elbow, as though to let him know you’d noticed what he did there.  Jack was always fast to reconcile with you when you argued, especially if you admitted you understood his side.

You execute a little hop step and remark, “We should get moving, I don’t want to get any of your morning cooties on me.”  Then you set off in a mild run, laughing as you go.  Jack quickly catches up to you with a smirk, as though to remind you here is a far better runner than you.  You don’t mind, in fact, this is nice.  You reach out and grab his hand, pulling him along after you.  You feel him squeeze your hand but aren’t brave enough to look back and see what expression might be on his face.  You didn’t really need to though.  You went together like morning and night.  They were both great apart but when you combined them, like fog rolling off the grass, it was magic.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader

[heroictoonz]

What is your favorite RvB arc? What’s you’re favorite RvB season?

(I ask them as two different questions cuz sometimes they don’t always match up: my favorite arc is Recollection but my favorite season is 10) :)

EASY. CHORUS. NO FUCKING DOUBT IN MY MIND.

Now, I’ll preface this with I have yet to see past season 16 for my own reasons (though I intend to watch them now) but Chorus has always been my favorite seasons full stop. Favorite season? Yeah still Chorus.

Chorus makes me insane cause it’s Tuckers best set of seasons and personally I wish they would write him like that again. I wish they’d write all the reds and blues like that again. I really do just thing they were the best seasons for the characters especially my favorites.

Watching a character who for so long was nothing more than a walking sex joke have to face the fact that he had to step up and be a leader is insane to me. Not even to talk about the fact that Tucker through this whole time is under so much pressure in so many ways.

Firstly you have Wash and Kimball constantly telling him that he can be better that he can do better and where they think they’re working to uplift him they’re really just unknowingly bringing him down cause Tucker physically can’t see himself as anything even close to a capable soldier

Tucker has like actual fucking insecurities but we never see them cause he’s got so much bravado to him to mask it all like THIS is when we see that it’s so fascinating

Also just lots of people die in RvB and most the MCs don’t bat much an eye even when they cause it but Tucker’s reaction to getting some kid killed in a mission that he was supposed to be running is fucking EARTH shattering

Also the characters in this arc are so amazing. From Locas and Felix to Kimball and Doyal and all Polomo and all them like god what an amazing supporting cast holy shit

ALSO THE ANGST! THE DRAMA! TUCKER GETTING FOR REAL AND ACTUALLY STABBED! THEM THINKING THAT THEIR FRIENDS ARE BEING TORTURED! THE TUCKINGTON OF IT ALL!!!!

Anyways best arc best set of seasons full fucking stop I have seen RvB in it’s entirety at least five maybe six times but the Chorus arc I have watched more times than I can remember I will just flip on those three seasons and go ham

#I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT CHORUS! #RvB #red vs blue #toonz talks #toonz asks #ozcarma