#the grief bit ‘you don’t have to do much’ god let the people know. Just showing up? plenty usually

[overbearingstruggles]

Happy new Marc Maron special release day to those who celebrate

#it’s not comedy for me it’s Church #the grief bit ‘you don’t have to do much’ god let the people know. Just showing up? plenty usually #not having kids forever my fucking favorite!!! Brendon and Mulaney let us down so Marc and Seth Rogan are the only men I trust #‘don’t you know you can not do that?’ stg literally using language I do. PLAGUE BABIES 😂 #gun bit?? ‘it just feels like it’s time’ gurrrrrl we are seeing each other #I want one so if shit gets bad I have an easy out and reader he also made a joke about that!! LOML #Maron #txt #update: watched the ‘95 half hour available on HBO and he has just updated his Jew bit from that but it’s exactly the same concept lmao luv #he’s definitely doing drugs at this point because he’s sweat.y. like I’ve never seen before #the height of his bootheel is interesting

[seeingivy]

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks. 

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities. 

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits. 

“Eren.” 

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too. 

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side. 

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll. 

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth. 

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself. 

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up. 

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion. 

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.” 

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words. 

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood. 

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door. 

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep. 

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?” 

“Eren. Oh my god.” 

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms. 

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove. 

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana. 

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders. 

“What is it? Who died?” 

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic. 

His first thought is you. 

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-” 

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

Because it’s Marco. 

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen. 

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it. 

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together. 

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight. 

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one. 

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this. 

Eren’s quick to respond to that one. 

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks. 

eren: phone is on. 

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking. 

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone. 

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-” 

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.” 

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers. 

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits. 

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-” 

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard. 

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-” 

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. 

“How long?” 

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil. 

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers. 

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing. 

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it. 

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death. 

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds. 

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren. 

In full flesh, that Marco is gone. 

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight. 

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t. 

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here. 

But he can’t. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air. 

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper. 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods. 

That he’s here and he’s got you. 

“Anything. What is it?” 

“Is he dead?” 

Maybe not anything. 

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him. 

“Y/N.” 

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller. 

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.” 

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind. 

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard. 

“Yes. Marco’s dead.” 

And you don’t even know the half of it. 

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest. 

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-” 

“Y/N, come ins-” 

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots. 

“Wait, is that-” 

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks. 

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-” 

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help. 

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks. 

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.” 

“It’s just grass. What’s-” 

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth. 

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch. 

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says. 

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back. 

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain. 

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair. 

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.  

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off. 

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table. 

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you. 

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years. 

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands. 

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond. 

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them. 

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead. 

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away. 

“Welcome back, kid.” 

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself. 

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back. 

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you. 

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind. 

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had. 

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you. 

All you know how to do is ruin people. 

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks. 

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?” 

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.” 

“We?” you ask. 

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.” 

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation. 

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks. 

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous. 

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats. 

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group. 

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress. 

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them. 

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress. 

“Hi guys.” 

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you. 

Mikasa and Jean. 

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest. 

“Hi princess. Missed you.” 

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.” 

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid. 

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees. 

“I asked Historia.” you respond. 

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir. 

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds. 

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations. 

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too. 

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks. 

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile. 

“Really funny story. Sooooo….” 

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans. 

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling. 

“Was it cool?” you ask. 

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds. 

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him. 

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states. 

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds. 

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.” 

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds. 

“Connie!” 

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile. 

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.” 

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject. 

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away. 

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this. 

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look. 

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging. 

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins. 

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect. 

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything. 

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur. 

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours. 

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room. 

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco. 

“How are you?” Mikasa asks. 

“Okay, Mika. How are you?” 

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first. 

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to  you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here. 

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.” 

She smiles, leaning her head against yours. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.” 

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond. 

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you. 

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.” 

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep. 

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-” 

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies. 

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-” 

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.” 

You swallow hard. 

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-” 

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-” 

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard. 

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you. 

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch. 

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers. 

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door. 

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off. 

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room. 

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.” 

“I found yours! But where is mine?” 

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist. 

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond. 

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it. 

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.” 

“Quit moving your hands.” 

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand. 

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar. 

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?” 

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there. 

“And that it’s cute that you did that.” 

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door. 

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand. 

“You left it in the bathroom.” 

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are. 

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks. 

“No.” you shrug. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander. 

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show. 

“Eren?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” 

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget. 

“Of course. On set, in the-” 

“No, no. I mean, for real.” 

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.” 

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

“Do you think he’s haunting us?” 

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now. 

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated. 

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!” 

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.” 

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.” 

“Eren. It’s more compl-” 

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.” 

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says. 

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds. 

You smile, giving him a nod. 

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?” 

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.” 

“That’s a lie.” you state. 

“No one believed him.” Eren responds. 

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other. 

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands. 

You still love him. 

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn. 

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper. 

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers. 

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk. 

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-” 

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his. 

“He knows, Y/N.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.” 

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head. 

“I have something for you.” he murmurs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.” 

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks. 

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.” 

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh. 

“Never could hold his drink, could he?” 

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.” 

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind. 

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks. 

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-” 

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you. 

“Your new name is Margaret.” 

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.” 

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.” 

“Bruce Wayne!” 

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.” 

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.” 

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks. 

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on. 

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night. 

--

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other. 

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him. 

“Good morning, Con.’” 

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.” 

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice. 

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat. 

“Sleep well?” he asks. 

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.” 

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.” 

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.” 

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile. 

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet. 

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you. 

“I want to apologize.” Connie says. 

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it. 

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-” 

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh. 

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead. 

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you. 

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond. 

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now. 

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-” 

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?” 

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-” 

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?” 

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him. 

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say. 

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom. 

“Sorry?” 

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?” 

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response. 

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur. 

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?” 

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.” 

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.” 

“Connie, that’s enough-” 

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks. 

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-” 

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.” 

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers. 

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs. 

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs. 

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder. 

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all. 

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams. 

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan. 

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren. 

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.” 

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand. 

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper. 

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head. 

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows. 

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean. 

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there. 

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on. 

“Good morning kiddos!” 

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing. 

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.” 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek. 

“Bruce.” 

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds. 

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. . 

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ” 

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius. 

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard. 

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring. 

And wander in silence for the rest of the day. 

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed. 

--

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black. 

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set. 

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room. 

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands. 

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him. 

“Oh. Hey, you look-” 

“Are you serious?” 

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things. 

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?” 

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you. 

“Wait-” 

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

“How could you do this? To him? To me?” 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out. 

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder. 

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Eren?” 

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction. 

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg  Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-” 

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at. 

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills. 

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-” 

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-” 

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.” 

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.  

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.” 

You nod. 

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.” 

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues. 

You’re here and you’ve got him. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.” 

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk. 

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper. 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper, 

“No. No, no. Stop.” 

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side. 

“Why are you-” 

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering. 

“Why not?” you ask, frowning. 

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.” 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur. 

“Y/N. We can’t-” 

“Who?” 

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.” 

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake. 

“Why were you in here?” you ask. 

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.” 

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask. 

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last. 

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only. 

--

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say. 

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together. 

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face. 

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles. 

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop. 

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks. 

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them. 

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead. 

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?” 

“With Mikasa.” he responds. 

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence. 

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera. 

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him. 

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds. 

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera. 

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds. 

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile. 

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?” 

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says. 

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.” 

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off. 

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories. 

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo. 

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans. 

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.” 

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug. 

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco. 

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.” 

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen. 

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?” 

“Damn right you will.” you respond. 

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile. 

“Good.”

--

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @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-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @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

#seeingivywrites! #method acting #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 yeager #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #aot #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #snk #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #aot actor au #actor eren #actor eren x reader #actor eren x you

[xiefuyu]

A fool

-- Sano Manjiro x sister reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — angst, hurt/no comfort, mcd, not proofread, manga spoilers

:a/n — it's been a while, i know, but here have some angst hehe. college is keeping me busy, i apologize for not updating the bonten series grr

Mikey thinks the world is playing with him as he stood in front of yet another funeral of one of his loved ones.

First Shinichiro, then Baji, and now Emma and Izana?

What did he do in his past life to attend too many funerals in such a short lifespan? He thinks it’s such a cruel world for his burning desire to achieve happiness and success alongside his family. He’s tired, lost, confused, and yet, he still felt your hand squeezing his.

Right. You're still there. Another sister, three months younger than Emma. You were still there like a last petal holding onto a single centre of a flower that is him. Will he lose you, too?

And God, if there is still a God out there, he’s starting to see a pattern.

Or maybe a fact.

Everyone around him ended up dying in a certain future according to Takemichi. He ended up killing everyone because of the darkness in him, engulfing them in misery in another future. He’s afraid that he’ll drag you with him.

So slowly, he detaches his hand from you but you didn’t even let him get away an inch or two. He looks at you and sees your tired eyes looking back at him. He wants to think that he’s seeing his own eyes as he does so but he’s mistaken because there’s still some light in your eyes while looking at him.

Why? Why are you looking at him as if he’s the light and not the darkness that caused all of these anger, grief, and losses?

Why are you smiling tiredly at him with those eyes turning a little into crescent moons as you squeeze his hand once more?

“Mikey-nii.” you call out, sounding like a fresh and soft breeze of wind. “Yeah?” he hums.

There, he sees it. Sees the way your lips are wobbling, sees the way your eyes are holding back the tears, and feels the way you're trembling in his hand. He sees and feels it all and it’s suffocating him because why are you trying to keep a strong facade around him?

You also lost people as much as him. You lost Shinichiro, your eldest brother who became your father figure with how he’s not even hiding the fact that you’re his favourite. 

You lost Baji, a rowdy boy with his loudmouth who was like another brother to you, letting you style his hair as much as you want even though you’re pulling out some strands sometimes. 

You lost Emma, God, you lost your older sister who you looked up to, confided in, cried with, and shared almost everything with. 

You lost Izana, another older brother who you met when you were younger, someone you always looked forward to seeing on the weekends, someone you wanted to take home with you and just shower him with affection everyday like you do to your other siblings.

You lost them all and yet here you are, smiling at your Mikey-nii.

“Manjiro-nii.” you called out again and he hums in return once more. “Please…” you whispered, lost in the wind but it reached Mikey’s ear. “What?” he pries. The first roll of teardrops drops on both of your hands that are intertwined. 

“Y/N-”

“Please don’t leave me, too.” you sobbed out, gripping his hand tightly. “You-you’re all I have now, Mikey-nii, so please…please don’t leave me, I’m scared.” you pleaded and Mikey wondered. He wondered if you somehow read his mind earlier when he decided to slowly let go of your hand. Wondered if you could hear how lost his heart was.

You further sobbed when he didn’t answer. Just empty eyes looking away. They were so empty yet full. 

Longing, anger, grief, sadness, and all other things that were overwhelming.

Were you not enough of a sibling to make him stay? Was…was something wrong with you that you’re currently failing to make him at least a bit happy?

Should you have died instead of Emma?

Granted, you came to their household a tad bit later than Emma and it took Manjiro a while to warm up to you but you like to think that he loved you all the same. 

You feel the same panic as earlier when you feel him pull away because he’s doing it again. He’s slowly detaching himself from you and this time, you were also late to grab him back. “Mikey-n–”

“Y/N.” he cuts you off. The both of you stare at each other before he pats your head, standing up.

Leaving.

“Take care of gramps.”

Ah…there is indeed something wrong with you, isn’t there? Just like how you came into their household, just like how you failed to grab his hand back, this time, you were late once more in keeping him besides you, watching his back disappearing from your sight.

It was the best way to do it, Mikey thinks.

Everyone is in danger around him because he’s the cause of the harm. He was right to abandon you, to leave you alone because he knows Draken will take care of you. The founding members of Toman will take care of you.

What a fool. That was his job, wasn’t it?

He stood in his office, Kokonoi with him. He frowns, the thing called heart in his chest aching all of a sudden. “Boss, is something wrong?” Kokonoi asked. 

“It’s raining.” he mumbles. You have been afraid of thunder ever since you were a kid. Are you curling into yourself right now because of fear? Is someone with you to tell you that everything will be okay? To tell you that you are safe?

“I have a bad feeling,” he says, turning around to get his KMG coat. There’s something wrong. There’s a hand scratching at the back of his brain as if calling for help. There’s something in his darkness that’s wavering, letting in some bit of light.

There’s the phantom feeling of your hand squeezing his as he walks down the hallway.

Then there’s your voice; pleading to him not to leave you alone because you’re scared, because he’s all you have. Without a second thought, he hops on his motorcycle and drives off, letting his instinct take over to take him somewhere. Somewhere where you are.

“There’s this future where you…you ended up killing everyone, Mikey-kun.” Takemichi informs him, sobbing.

Mikey frowns because it was such a random memory passing through his mind. Why would he even remember that? Didn’t he already distance himself for everyone’s safety? Didn’t he already push everyone, even you, his little sister, away just so you could become happy?

So why?

Why was Draken’s fist connecting with his face at the moment and he’s letting him? 

“Why, Mikey?! WHY DID YOU LEFT HER?! You are all she had! Even though we told her we’re here, she only wanted you! Her brother!” Every word was ringing in his ear, every punch felt like a brick in his gut.

Why?

It was such a simple question, wasn’t it?

“Because it was for the best.” he thinks. It was supposed to be for the best. So why is he watching your body getting taken away in an ambulance? Why is he watching Takemichi apologising over and over again as he holds Draken back from beating him up more?

“She…” Draken starts, voice cracking. “She only wanted to stay beside her brother, Mikey, why couldn’t you give your sister that?” 

In a drowning state, he hears Sanzu informing him of what happened. Sanzu. Right, Haruchiyo, who’s holding his tears back because you were his little sister, too. You were also all sunshine and flowers for him. The path of carnage wasn’t supposed, wasn't meant, to be opened by your cold and dead body, he thinks. It was all wrong.

Wrong at how they targeted you. You, who’s Mikey’s sole light. You, who’s the last bit of your brother’s sanity.

Three gun wounds. That’s all Mikey heard amongst the clashing of Sanzu’s words.

Take care of Mikey-nii and yourself, okay? Tell him…tell him that it’s okay. That was you and your last words to Takemichi as you took your last breath with a small smile.

It’s okay.

What was? He wants to ask. What was okay? Nothing was okay. He wants to say.

“Everyone was killed…by you.” He didn’t think everyone included you. As a matter of fact, you weren’t included. Why?

What a fool. Him pushing you away was what triggered that future.

It was supposed to be for the best. You were safe from him. You had Toman to take care of you.

What a fool. That was his job, wasn’t it?

You were supposed to be happy.

“You-you’re all I have now, Mikey-nii, so please…please don’t leave me, I’m scared.” 

What a fool. You were also all he had left so why didn’t he stay?

A/N; we love angst don't we

@bontensbabygirl

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers spoiler #sano manjiro angst #sano manjiro x sister reader #sano manjiro x y/n #mikey x reader #xiefuyu's

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 4 (MBJ x Black OC)

Warnings: mentions of grief and death… NSFW, public sex, name calling, BDSM themes

A/N: lol remember when I said this was gonna be two parts? Well I finished both so I said why not lol long chapter ahead but I hope you enjoy!

***

“It’s really insane when you think about it,” she laughed. “I mean God, these people are saying shit I wouldn’t dare breathe out loud… to a complete stranger. Do your DMs always look like this?” 

Michael nodded, causing Raven to shake her head in complete disbelief. “I don’t see most of ‘em but my team likes to share the wildest ones sometimes. The people are mad creative.”

“You don’t ever feel objectified by it?” Raven asked, her nails tapping quietly against her screen as she deleted DM after DM. 

“Sometimes but it’s par the course in my world. And they do it to all celebrities. It’s also not like me and my team don’t play into that shit. So it’s kinda hard to get mad. When you get branded as a sex symbol, people treat you like one. And generally, people don’t mean any harm by it. As long as people, you know, keep that shit on social, I don’t get bothered.”

“Fair. People need to like get offline and touch grass. The amount of women in my DMs insulting me for ‘stealing you?’ You’d think I wrecked their fantasy home. It’s kinda disturbing, not gonna lie.” 

Despite the rise in explicit DMs, Raven was pleasantly surprised at how little her life had changed since she became the public girlfriend of a mega movie star. She had never seen so many follow requests in her life and the cameras swarmed the library for the first few days. However, other than that and one or two articles detailing the sparse details of her life that were available, things were pretty much exactly the same. It also helped that there was a major celebrity scandal each week so their relationship had quickly become old news. But they were the new “it couple” on the block. The world bought their act hook, line, and sinker. A few more months of this and the debacle of their first date would be a funny passing joke on SNL or Late Night tv and nothing more. 

“I feel bad dragging you to this shit on your birthday,” Michael mumbled apologetically. 

Raven scoffed. “It’s a dinner party at Ryan Coogler’s with the cast of my favorite superhero movie of all time,” she exclaimed, a bit of her fan girl side slipping out. “Hardly a punishment. We got our photo so you can post something cute and sappy for the gram and I get to do something fun completely unrelated to my birthday. Win, win.” She assured him with a smile. 

Michael still did not understand her aversion to her birthday, it was one of the many things about her that were a big question mark. He thought she was just being modest when she told him so when Ryan invited the couple to dinner at his spot, he felt bad for even asking her to give up her special day for a work event. However, she said yes immediately, clearly thankful for a work obligation to fill up her evening. 

Her phone rang, interrupting Michael’s response. She rolled her eyes when she saw her sister’s name pop up. She had been dodging her and her dad’s calls left and right since she and Michael’s first date weeks ago. She knew her sister would find out from social media and would tell their dad, and she knew they both were just calling with their hands outstretched. She could tolerate them asking for her money and the money she did not have yet, she always found it and, even if she complained, she would give it. But she would not entertain requests for money that was not hers to give away, nor would she give Michael the impression she was a gold digger trying to bleed him dry. He was upholding his end of the bargain, she would not milk him for anymore than that. She let it go to voicemail, however, soon the car filled with the constant dings of her texts.

“You gotta take that?” 

“Umm… yea,” Michael could feel her entire mood sour at the idea. “It’s just my sister. She’ll never stop calling if I don’t. You mind? Sorry,” her tone was apologetic, knowing how frustrating it would be to listen to half a conversation in a car you can’t escape from. 

She held the phone to her ear and waited for her to pick up, making sure to turn the volume down as low as possible in hopes Michael would hear as little of whatever insanity her sister would spew. She knew she was not calling to merely offer happy birthday wishes, if she even acknowledged the day at all.

“Raven! I’ve been calling you for days. What the fuck?” Kiara’s voice filled her ears. 

“Hi Kiara. Sorry, I’ve been a little busy. How are you?” 

“I’m fine.” She responded shortly without asking Raven the same. “And yea, a little busy all over the fuckin’ ShadeRoom. You know how fuckin’ embarrassing it is to find out you’re dating MY celebrity crush on Insta?? You didn’t even like that nigga or his movies.” 

Not true, Raven wanted to yell into the phone. She and her sister were not close enough to know each other’s favorite movies or actors, hell even favorite colors, let alone gossip about their relationships together. So she was not sure why Kiara even expected to know about her relationship, even if it hadn’t been a complete farce. 

“You have me out here lookin’ stupid as shit to my friends.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how it would impact you.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, which she could tell Michael picked up on as he choked back a laugh. However, she knew Kiara was too self absorbed to notice.

“When are you gonna bring him here for us to meet him? The girls want to meet him too.”  

“You and dad are always welcome to come to LA and meet him. O-Or just, you know, visit me?” she threw him an apologetic shrug that just made him laugh. She wished she could laugh at how quickly her family’s tune had changed about seeing her. She had invited them to LA countless times before everything fell apart but they couldn’t have cared less about her life and how she was doing. And when she tried to visit them, they made excuse after excuse about why it was not a “good time.” But now that she had a famous boyfriend, it was “when are you coming to visit?” As if the invitation had always been open. She had not seen her family in two years. “Don’t think either of us have time to come to y’all with his schedule. He’s going out of town soon for his new movie.”

“Maybe I can convince dad if you can get us tickets to the premiere of that movie…. What’s the name? I don’t remember. The girls would love that shit. Or… oh! He has to be invited to the new Black Panther premiere next month too. Maybe we can go to that? I don’t know what that shit’s about but it’s Black Panther so you know hella celebs will be there. He’s gotta be a brand ambassador for some fancy shit. Can you get us some Birkins or something?”

Raven clenched her eyes shut as her sister outlined her laundry list of impossible wants from her “boyfriend.” She knew she could never and would never ask Michael for a fraction of these things. And if she was going to ask him for something out of their contractual obligations, she doubted whether it would be to benefit Kiara of all people. She would do it on behalf of someone who would actually appreciate it.

“I’ll ask him. But maybe for now, you can settle for an autograph? Look, we are actually headed out on a date. Did you or dad need something?”

“Oh yea… I need money for a lawyer for that charge from a couple weeks ago. You know that fuck ass bar is suing us for damages? But that shit wasn’t even our fault.” 

Raven’s head lazily fell to the side as she half-listened to her sister complain for several minutes, drowning on with details from the fight  that made Raven think the bar was well within their rights to demand payment. But accountability was not Kiara’s strong suit. She offered lame “ohs” and “wows” to give the impression that she was truly paying attention. She was just waiting for the ask, there always was one and everything before it was pointless. She finally tuned back in when her sister demanded cash. 

“I gave dad the rest of my savings to bail you and your boyfriend out of jail. And I already sent money for the mortgage and dad’s car. I’m tapped out this month.” 

“Fuck you mean tapped out? You’re living like a fuckin’ big shot in LA with a millionaire for a boyfriend and you can’t slide me money for a lawyer? That’s fuckin’ foul, Raven.” 

Raven clenched her eyes shut. It had already been hard enough to keep up the appearances that she had a thriving career in LA. Adding a fake relationship to the house of lies she existed in did not help matters. Her family had no idea how much she was struggling now and while she knew she could tell them, she did not want to deal with their reactions, which she knew would likely be to blame her. She felt enough guilt and blame for her situation as it was. 

“I can’t just make money I don’t have materialize, Kiara.” She lowered her voice though she knew there was no way Michael was not listening. “You know just because I let you and dad treat me like an ATM, doesn’t mean I do that to other people. I don’t have the money right now but I can pay the bar in installments when I come into more in a couple weeks and just pay off the damages for you.” 

“No, we aren’t payin’ the fuckin’ bar cause we didn’t do shit. And wow… God. You’re so fuckin’ selfish, running off to LA and abandoning us here to make all that money with your fancy degrees and shit.” 

“Did I run off and abandon you or did you make it impossible to stay?” Raven asked, her exhaustion at constantly being the villain of her family’s story getting the better of her. 

“Poor Raven. Always the fuckin’ victim as if everything that’s wrong in this family isn’t your fault. And to pull that card today of all days when you know it’s the anniversary of mom’s death. If it weren’t for you…” Kiara started to say before Raven cut her off, tears welling up in her eyes as she already could hear her sister and father’s voice finishing that sentence. 

“I’ll figure it out and send the money, ok?” She called out, cutting her sister’s words off completely. “I’m getting an advance from my next book in a couple weeks. Find a couple lawyers, meet with them and get their rates and I’ll pay for it. No one crazy expensive, Ki.” 

She knew lying was wrong but she did not have any other option. She couldn’t tell her family where the money would be really coming from. Michael had a whole list of things for her for the next two weeks before he went on his press tour, which meant she would easily make enough to pay her sister’s legal fees and pass it off as an advance. 

“This is me and Jay’s lives, Raven. It’s not like you don’t have the money or access to itto pay for the best.” 

Raven focused her eyes on the ceiling of the car, a sorry attempt to stop tears of guilt and frustration from falling. She felt a tidal wave of shame hit her knowing Michael was seeing her like this. “Whatever you need. But once my advance money is gone, I’m tapped out for a while. Seriously, Kiara.” 

“Yea yea yea. I gotta go. I’ll call you in two weeks about the lawyer. Bye.”

Raven clenched her phone in her hand with a fist, her entire body turning away from Michael as a small frustrated sob escaped her that she couldn’t quite keep in. She tossed her phone down on the seat and wiped her eyes. 

She had hoped to make it through today, the annual reminder of the worst day of her life, without thinking too much about it. But there her sister was, picking at the threads of her composure, forcing her to unravel. 

The worst part of all of it was she could not even be mad at her sister or her father and how they treated her. She deserved it and she knew it. She had ruined their lives and this was her atonement. So she endured it, every slight, every barb, every wound because she - perhaps foolishly - hoped that if she kept reaching out her hand and kept giving, one day they would reach back and not expect something in it. They would forgive her and she would have a real family again. 

It did not matter how they spoke to her or treated her, she just repeated the same mantra over and over and over again.  

Keep reaching out your hand, she reminded herself as she took a few deep breaths. 

“You good? We can drive around for a bit longer if you need a minute.” 

“Yea, yea.” She sniffled and cleared her throat. “Just stupid family shit. One day we’ll have a date without me crying o-or having a panic attack,” she let out a watery laugh as she forced a smile onto her lips. 

The smile was wide, and Michael knew, to a stranger, it would likely seem authentic and bright. It would certainly be enough to fool everyone at dinner tonight. But he could see its inauthenticity in her eyes, that’s where all of her emotions shown through. And her eyes? They were void of even the minuscule amounts of light and joy he typically saw and that were present moments before that phone rang. Now, she just looked torn down. And this version of her did not have enough energy to do more than put on that facade and pray no one looked too closely. But when it came to Raven, Michael always looked too closely… and he knew that was the problem. 

Michael slumped back in his seat for a few moments, the wheels turning in his mind as he studied her. He knew he could continue with their plan for the night, that she would play her part and play it well. However, he could not, in good faith, allow that. All their dates thus far had been about him. She deserved for the one day to celebrate her to be all about her. He pulled out his phone and went to Google. After a few minutes of searching, he closed that and opened his call log. 

“Hey Coog.” His voice filled the car, Raven glancing over to him as she continued trying to reign in her emotions so she could play her part.  “My bad, man but we ain’t gon’ make it tonight. Send my apologies to the rest of the team and your wife.”

Raven’s head whipped to the side as she listened to his words. She could hear the faint accent of Ryan Coogler asking if everything was ok. She immediately turned to him and threw an expression at Michael before mouthing, “What are you doing??” 

Michael merely winked at her before answering Ryan. “Yea yea. Just somethin’ came up I gotta take care of.” Michael chuckled. “Aight, ‘preciate you, brah. I’ll make it up to you. Talk to you later.” 

As soon as he hung up the phone, Raven immediately spoke up. “What was that? Why aren’t we going to dinner?” 

Michael ignored her and directed his next statement to Allen. “New plan, Allen. Just sent you the address.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He continued to avoid her confused and wide eyes. He could not sit at a dinner party, regardless of how fun it was going to be to see the entire cast, knowing Raven was in pain. And even if he did not know or understand the extent of it, he could empathize and recognize she needed a night of someone caring for her, not the other way around. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.” 

When Allen finally stopped, Michael helped Raven out and handed one of the cards out of his wallet to Allen, whispering something in his ear that Raven could not hear. With that, Allen sped off, leaving the two behind. Michael placed his hand on the small of Raven’s back and directed her down the block. 

“What about your dinner party?” 

“That nigga hosts a dinner party for everythin’. My role in the movie ain’t that big. Just settin’ up future shit so they won’t miss me. He’ll host another after the premiere next month and at the end of the award season if it gets nominated. Trust me, we ain’t missing shit.” 

“But you’re paying me to go to work events with you?” Raven hated that once again, he felt the need to cater to her and her emotions. “I don’t need to be coddled. O-or for you to rearrange shit to celebrate a day I don’t even want to celebrate. You’re paying me to do a job, let me do it.” 

“Yea and now I’m paying you to have a relaxin’ evening with me. This’ll be more fun anyway. We can still pretend it ain’t your birthday if you want.” 

“Relaxing… at a rage room?” She glanced up and gestured toward the sign outside of the building they were standing in front of. It was quiet, no one but a front desk attendant gawking at them. But she was not surprised it was quiet for a Wednesday night. 

“You tellin’ me you don’t have some rage you wanna exercise a bit, ma?”

She chewed on her lip, she had more than enough rage to get out, but she needed to fix that on her own time, not his. “I do… we all do, I’m sure but… then you shouldn’t pay me for the night. This isn’t work. You’re just doing this to make me feel better and I’m good. We really should go to that party. You can’t just blow off work obligations because your fake girlfriend’s having a bad day.”

Michael closed the distance between them and used his fingers to pry her lip out from between her teeth. He wanted to smile at how she rolled her eyes and pouted a bit, clearly resisting the urge to draw her lip back where it was.  

“You aren’t ‘good.’ I don’t know you that well but I do know that much. Just because this ain’t real doesn’t mean I want to watch you suffer on the one day of the year that’s supposed to be about you. A dinner party isn’t what you need. You need fun, seems like you get little of that shit anyway. So since I’m payin’ for your time, I’m tellin’ you not to worry about my shit. And I’m tellin’ you that your only job today is to have fun. And I don’t like having my money wasted, baby girl.” His voice dropped to his commanding tone, a tone that let her know he’d pull out the flogger again if she did waste his time. 

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Fine. But this really isn’t necessary.” 

“It’s my money. Let me decide what’s necessary and what’s not. Now come on.” He pulled her in the door, using his award winning smile to get them into the largest room that was clearly meant for more than two people. 

The attendant got them set up in their protective gear and closed the door behind them, locking them in the room for an hour. 

“So what do we do?” Raven muttered as she glanced around, quietly giggling at their absurd bee-keeper style gear. The room was filled with breakable items, bats and golf clubs and other makeshift weapons. There were holes in the walls and punching bags and dummies and stacks of plates. 

He picked up a vase and chucked it at the wall, the glass shattering against the wall. Then he picked up another one and handed it to her. 

His hand pressed into her chest, right above her heart. “Every negative thing you feel in here? Destroy everythin’ in this room til it doesn’t feel like you’re drownin’ in it.” 

She grabbed the vase from his hand and held it for a moment before she threw it as hard as she could at the same spot on the wall. Lacking his strength, it did not make it to the wall but she did enjoy the rush of adrenaline and satisfying crash it made as it shattered to the ground.  She did not even need further prompting as she picked up the discarded baseball bat near her and started using it to break everything she could see that was breakable. 

Michael spent most of the hour cheering her on as she released every bit of pent up frustration and anger and pain and shame she felt. She was so tightly wound all of the time, never letting any of it show so she could never let any of it go. But this was a cathartic release that she did not even know she needed. She knew she would feel it all again tomorrow but every crash, every piece of glass shattered, every dent she made into the walls of that room felt like a small bit of everything she kept in started to vanish piece by piece.

By the time the buzzer rang, signaling the end of their session, she was exhausted, her arms tired but she had never felt lighter. 

“That was…” she breathed heavily as they walked out toward Michael’s SUV. “Amazing. I didn’t know I needed that. Thank you.” 

“See? You gotta trust me more, baby girl. I know more than just what your body needs.” He winked at her as he closed the door behind him. “And now, we have one more stop.” 

They spent the entire drive recapping their favorite things to break in the rage room, which “weapons” caused the most damage. 

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Michael joked as Allen pulled off onto an overlook. 

“What do you mean??” 

“You were downright terrifyin’ with that damn bat. Can’t have you goin’ all Jazmine Sullivan or Carrie Underwood on my car.” 

“Whatchu know about Before He Cheats?” 

He let out a barking laugh. “Enough to know niggas go up for that song, me included.” He admitted. “But if you try to sell that to a gossip site, I’ll deny it.” 

“Wow, learning something new about you every day. And please, I’m sure there are more effective ways to hurt you if you pissed me off,” she teased. “You’d have a new car before I even finished taking a bat to the old one.”

“You might be right about that.”

“Where are we?” She asked as Michael helped her out of the car and she followed him around to the back of the SUV. He opened the trunk and laid out a picnic blanket and soft pillows that Allen had purchased while they were raging and jogged up to the front to grab the box of Prince St. Pizza that had made Raven’s stomach growl the entire ride and a bottle of white wine. 

“Overlook by the Hollywood sign. Perfect view of the city with my favorite white wine and favorite pizza.”

Raven smiled as he helped her climb into the back of the SUV, both of them leaning on the back as they looked out over the city. The silence was comforting, both of them eating their way through the giant pepperoni pizza and several glasses of wine. When they finished one bottle, Allen just produced another from the front seat and handed it back to them. 

“Thank you… for tonight,” Raven smiled as he poured her another glass of wine. “I… did really need this. And you didn’t have to.” 

“Don’t mention it. Seemed like you needed this more than I needed a dinner party.” He paused. “So your sister… did she even say happy birthday to you?” 

Raven let out a cold laugh as she took a long sip from her glass. “Nope. But I didn’t expect her to. Told you,” she whispered as her fingers played with the strings on the edge of their blanket. “Just another day. 

“So that’s why you don’t celebrate your birthday? Your mom?” At her startled expression, he shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t hear everythin’ but your sister was talkin’ loud as fuck toward the end. When’d she die?”

Raven sighed. “She died in labor. Had some condition, doctors told her no more kids… she got pregnant by accident. My dad wanted her to have an abortion, she refused. She gave birth and died a couple hours later.”  

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, his hand rubbing her thigh. He had tuned out most of their conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop. But the moment he heard frustration and pain in Raven’s voice, he could no longer block it out. He heard every word her sister hurled at her and he hated that they treated her so callously. “And they blame you?” 

She wiped her tears for a moment before muttering. “I blame me.” 

“You were a baby, didn’t ask to be born. How is her choice your fault?” Michael reasoned, hating that she blamed herself for something so out of her control. But he also knew grief was not the most logical of emotions, particularly grief as deep seeded as this.

“My dad could barely look at me as a kid, wanted nothing to do with me beyond keeping me clothed and fed. The only person who didn’t blame me was my grandma, she basically raised me until she passed when I was in middle school. And I get it,” her voice broke slightly with her grief. “If it weren’t for me, my dad would still have his wife and my sister would have a mom. So yea… I was born and she died for that… not much worth celebrating in my book… or anyone’s really.” Her voice trailed off to a soft whisper before she shook her head and rolled her shoulders back as if she could shake out the negative emotions. “But you didn’t bring me to this gorgeous spot to trade childhood trauma. Thank you for helping me take my mind off all that for a bit.” He could tell by her tone that she did not want to discuss it anymore. “I don’t know why you’re so nice to me,” she mumbled as she took another bite of pizza. 

He wrinkled his nose. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“No, no. I just… still waiting for you to be what I’d thought you’d be, I guess. What Tasha warned me you’d be.” 

“And what was that?” 

“An asshole,” she answered bluntly, Michael chuckling as he bowed his head. 

“I am… an asshole,” he admitted. “I’ll never deny that. Couple bad decisions after a bad break up and Hollywood bad boy became the image so I leaned into it. Self-centered, arrogant, cold… Aside from my family, that’s the version of me people see.” 

“But that’s not you.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “How you know? We just met a month ago.” 

She examined him with a soft smile before sitting up a bit straighter. “Because a self centered, arrogant asshole doesn’t do half the things you’ve done for me. You don’t treat me like a body or a business transaction. You treat me like… a friend? Even when you have no reason to. You may be a jerk but hell, plenty of niggas are jerks. You may even be a little selfish, not shocking when the world caters to you. But I think the real you is kind and thoughtful. I don’t know why you don’t want to show the world the side of you I see.” 

“Cause that nigga gets taken advantage of, gets heartbroken.” 

She nodded, she knew more than a thing or two about being taken advantage of. 

“Who was it then?” 

“Hm?” 

“The girl that broke your heart and created this version of you?” 

He let out a humorless chuckle and placed his hand on her knee. “One day, I’ll tell you.” He paused, glancing at her. “I treat you like a friend because I think we are… friends?”

He wanted to be so much more than friends. Every date, every moment with her he realized that more and more. However, if friends was as intimate as their relationship could ever truly be, he would settle for it. Anything, just to have her nearby. 

The small smile on her face turned brighter. “I think we’re friends too.” 

With the declaration of their friendship, both of them laid back against the pillows on their backs so they could stare out of the sunroof at the midnight sky. The sky was so perfectly clear, she could see endless stretches of stars. 

“What made you decide to be a writer?” Michael asked as they laid there. 

“I used to dream of being anywhere but where I was,” she admitted. “Still do most of the time. And when I was a kid, books, particularly fantasy books, were just the one place I could always escape to. Other worlds and lives so vivid so I could leave this one behind for a short while. And they always gave me hope that things could get better, maybe. I wouldn’t get saved by a dazzling prince or whatever. But they made me think things could turn around somehow. But when I was young, so few books had characters who looked like me or were written by women who looked like me.” 

“‘If there’s a book you wanna read, but it hasn’t been written, then you have to write it,’” he quoted the quote she had above her desk in her room. 

“Exactly.” 

“Why’d you stop after one book?” 

She clenched her eyes shut. “Didn’t have much of a choice. A… misunderstanding,” she muttered the word bitterly, “with my editor at my publishing house… and they dropped me, wasn’t able to find another. So I got the job at the library to tide me over till I figured shit out.  That was… about a year and a half ago? Haven’t been able to write much since.”

“A misunderstanding?” He repeated, glancing over at her, his question clear even though he did not explicitly ask it. However, when he felt her body shift uncomfortably next to him, he quickly backtracked. She had already rehashed so much that she did not need to tonight, there was no need to unearth anything else. She kept giving him more puzzle pieces but the picture remained a mystery. However, he could tell that it was one that held as much darkness as it did beauty. 

His hand grasped hers and squeezed. “You ain’t gotta tell me. Add it to the one day list?” 

Her eyes were still closed but he felt her squeeze back. “Thanks.” 

Silence fell over them as they laid there. Michael rarely just laid and did nothing like this. It was contemplative and nice, to simply exist beside her. He spent so much time being on, playing a part or an image. But he liked that he did not have to do that with Raven when they were alone. She let him be Bakari… the version of him that was only safe with his family and closest friends. 

“Tonight… I needed it too,” he offered, ending the silent reprieve. “So thank you for indulgin’ me.”

Raven turned and propped her head up on her hand, turning her body to face his profile. He looked different bathed in the moonlight. He was gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that. But he seemed more youthful to her, his features more relaxed than they typically were when they were on dates. His jaw was relaxed, his lips settled into a smile that was effortless… not his movie star smile, which she had seen enough times to recognize the nuances that signaled its inauthenticity. This one though, his real smile,… it made him heartbreakingly gorgeous.  

“Thank you for caring about me a-and for today. Haven’t had anyone do that in a long time,” she admitted before settling back on her pillows.

He knew she had that void in her life but hearing her admit it out loud broke his heart in places he was not expecting.

“What about right now?” 

“What about right now?” She asked, her tone filled with confusion. 

“Do you wish you were anywhere else but here right now?” He asked.

She tilted her head to glance at him, finding his eyes trained on her and not on the sky above. She let out a deep breath as she studied him. 

“No, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

He smiled. “Good.”  

They turned back toward the sunroof, content smiles on both of their faces. They did not talk much beyond that, both of them enjoying the silence and each other’s company. 

She did not even know how much time had passed when something finally broke that precious silence, the buzzing of Michael’s phone. Instinctively, she glanced over and caught a glimpse of his bright screen. Tasha’s name scrolled across, Michael sighing a bit as he sent the call to voicemail. 

Suddenly, Raven felt overwhelmed with discomfort. He was still seeing Tasha… why did that upset her so much? He had never promised not to, at least not to her. So she knew she had no reason to be mad. But she could stop the claws of jealousy from sinking their talons into her heart and soul. And when that subsided, all she felt was inadequacy. Another moment where she was not enough for someone. 

She cleared her throat. “It’s… um kinda late?” she glanced down at her watch before sitting up and sliding out of the back of the car. “L-Looks like you’ve got plans?” She tried to hide the bitterness in her voice but she knew she failed, knew Michael could see all of it.  

Michael shook his head. “Nah, it’s not wh-” 

Raven cut him off. “I have an early shift tomorrow… would hate to oversleep. Mind taking me home?” She did not know why she lied, her shift was not until noon. However, she knew it was an excuse he could not argue with. 

Raven started to walk around to the car door when she felt Michael’s grip around her arm, halting her movements. Michael hated that she saw that. Similar to her, but for entirely different reasons, he had been dodging Tasha’s calls like they were the plague. Usually he reached out to her to set up dates but when two weeks passed with radio silence from her best and most frequent customer, she started calling more often. He met up with her once, an act he regretted the morning after when he woke up. But she had promised discretion, if anyone knew how much of a farce he and Raven’s relationship was, it was Tasha. But he did not even enjoy it in the same way, he felt like he was just going through the motions. So when she reached back out earlier that week to set up another date, he ignored it. And ignored all the subsequent messages. He could not avoid her forever, but he knew he needed to put her on pause until Raven was out of his life and out of his system. While he was drugged up on her, no other fix was as worthy or quite as right. 

But he did not know how to explain that to Raven. He had not promised her exclusivity but it had most certainly been implied. He would not be pleased if he found out another man she had fucked was calling her.

“Tasha and I aren’t…” he started to say but Raven pressed her hand to his chest to stop him. 

“You don’t gotta lie to me. You’re allowed to sleep with other women, Michael. This isn’t real, we’re just friends at the end of the day. All good. I’m really tired though and need to get up early.” 

With that, she gently maneuvered her arm out of his grasp and slid into her seat in the car. She was thankful with every passing mile that took her closer to her apartment and out of his presence. She did not have a right to be upset but she could not change the fact that she was. She enjoyed being his only and she wasn’t, and she was wholly unprepared for how that would make her feel. But that’s what she got, for thinking his feelings for her extended past their business relationship. He was kind but she had signed up to be used and he was getting what he wanted. She had to accept that. 

“Thanks for the ride, Allen,” she said as she opened the door. She fixed her face and offered him a smile that was a bit forced but, despite the end to the night, still was partially genuine. “Thanks for tonight, seriously. I had fun.” His phone buzzed again, causing her to grimace. “And have fun with Tasha. Night, Michael.” She did not let him respond before she let the car door slam shut and she raced inside as fast her legs in her heels could carry her. 

Michael groaned, his head thudding back against the headrest as he looked at his phone screen. 

“I fucked that up, didn’t I?” 

“Wasn’t your shining moment with her, sir.” 

He clenched his hand into a fist before answering the phone. He never wanted to see that look on Raven’s face again and truthfully, he did not care to frequent Tasha anymore. He knew Raven and he had a shelf life that would expire but even when it did, he was not sure he could go back to fucking Tasha like Raven never existed. She had infiltrated every aspect of his being in the last two week and tonight had only made him fall deeper for her, made him want to give her everything she did not have. It was strange to feel this emotion again, to long for someone like he did her. Even if it could not be something long term, he wanted to savor it while he had her. 

But that was not something he was truly ready to admit to himself, let alone to Tasha. So he decided to take the easy road out and blame it on something else: the image and his manager. Tasha would have to respect that, right? And he would spin some lie about seeing her after Raven and he broke up, even though he was not sure if he had the desire for dispassionate, unattached sex in him anymore. 

“Hey Tash,” he muttered coldly into the phone. 

“Hey baby… wanted to see if you wanted to meet up tonight? I miss you,” her voice was sultry and inviting, a voice that, once upon a time, would have had him racing through LA to get to a hotel with her. But today, it did nothing. “And a little birdie told me you were headed to Paris in two weeks for press. Should I pack a bag?” 

Michael rolled his eyes. That was his own fault. He flew her out once last year to Cannes Film Festival and now she thought she was invited on every trip. There was only one person he wanted to take on this trip with him and after tonight, he was not even sure she’d say yes. 

“Yea… listen Tash. You know how I feel about you. But I can’t see you anymore… just for a few months.” 

“What?? Why?” 

He rolled his eyes, she knew why. “Well, you know… I got this relationship with Raven that is really important for my career and I can’t be seen with other women. We’re gonna have an amicable split in a few months and then I’m all yours again. But until then, we gotta keep our distance.” 

He could hear the frustration and bitterness in her voice, though she tried and failed to hide it. “You’re my best customer, Michael. You can’t just… drop me outta nowhere.” 

“It’s just temporary. Just a couple months. And I’ll send you some money to tide you over till you get a new client. Also means no Paris. Sorry, I just really gotta focus on cleaning up the image over the next few months. You understand, don’t you? You know you’ll always be my favorite girl.”

There was a long pause that made Michael check to ensure the call had not been disconnected. 

“Yea I understand. Just a few months though, right? Then you’re droppin’ the new girl?” 

Michael rolled his eyes before nodding, though she could not see him. “Of course, baby. Just a couple months and then she’s gone. Promise.” 

They shared a few pleasantries before Michael hung up and prayed she did not call him again for a while. His fingers itched to text or call Raven and explain. But something stopped him, the part of him that still adamantly rejected his feelings toward her roaring. He did not owe her an explanation, he did not owe her anything but the money he paid for her dates. She did not ask for an explanation either so why would he volunteer one? Those two parts of him battled until he threw his phone to the side in frustration. 

He sighed and took a deep breath as Allen pulled up in front of his family home in the hills, his oasis, Raven’s perfume still lingering in the car… that hint of lavender danced on his nose. He fell asleep with that phantom smell haunting him, Raven finding ways to pop up in every dream he had that night, leaving him no escape from her or his feelings for her. 

***

“Here you go.” Michael handed her an envelope filled with cash. “I’ll be gone by the time you wake up.” 

Raven nodded and stored it in her overnight bag before grabbing her clutch. They were finally alone after being poked and prodded all afternoon by his stylist and glam teams to get ready for the premiere. They had ten minutes before the car would be there to take them. And then Michael would be jetting off at an ungodly hour to New York and then Paris for press. Raven was actually a bit sad to see him go. 

Though they never discussed the Tasha debacle from her birthday two weeks prior, she and Michael were slowly but surely getting closer and closer each day. They had had an event or something to go to almost every night, Raven was shocked at the amount of money she had been able to make in such a short window of time. Even helping her sister with her lawyer, she felt as if she could actually breathe easy for the first time in a while. And on the nights they were not together, they generally texted or talked on the phone at some point. They hadn’t had sex again, Raven finding any and all excuses to avoid that since he was still seeing Tasha. He never pushed or seemed angry, albeit a bit disappointed when every date ended with her asking Allen to take her home. It was petty she knew it but she did not care. She had no interest in competing with Tasha, she knew who would win every time. 

“Thanks.” 

“You sure you’re gonna be good while I’m gone?” 

Raven glanced at him and rolled her eyes as she threw her lipstick in her clutch. She did not quite understand how the small bag was even functional, it did not even fit her ID. But Michael’s stylist said it fit the look so she did not question it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Jordan. I’ll be just fine without you for a few weeks.” 

Michael came up behind her and laughed. “You ain’t gotta pretend like you ain’t gon’ miss me, baby girl. I mean… you know, financially. I’m in New York for a week then Paris for a week. That’s a while without dates. I can slide you some extra if you need it.” 

Raven bristled at the idea, she did not want him to view her as a charity case. 

“No,” she responded shortly, immediately regretting the sharp edge in her tone as his face fell. “S-Sorry. No, thank you but I’m good.” 

“Even after your sister’s legal shit or whatever?” 

She let out a small huff. “Yea… she managed to pick the most expensive lawyer below the damn Mason Dixon line but I got it covered, I think. And with this,” she gestured toward her bag. “I’m good on the other stuff too. Seriously, you shouldn’t worry yourself about my finances. I always figure it out.”  

He grabbed her wrist to stop her from walking away from him.

“It ain't charity or worry. Don’t want you stressin’ and shit while I’m gone. And I like to know my friends and everyone on my team are good. You’re both… why would I treat you any differently?” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. Or fix my problems.”

“You’re here fixin’ my problems. I can’t  return the favor?”

“Because… that’s not what we agreed to. This is a job, you pay me… we go out. That’s it. My family shit has no part in this and isn’t your concern. I’ll deal with them.” 

“Why do you?” At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Deal with that?” 

“You don’t give up on your family. You reach out your hand even when they swat it away. And one day, they’ll see all I’ve done for them and how much I love them and they’ll come around.” 

“Seems to me that you let them bleed you dry as if it’ll pay whatever debt you think you owe them. And they seem content with lettin’ you bleed out in the street.” 

She chuckled mirthlessly. “They’re all I got… so I don’t have much of a choice. It’ll pay off. All of it,” she forced more conviction in her voice. “One day.” 

“You really believe that?” 

She turned to look at him. He could tell there was genuine hope in her eyes, true belief that things would get better. A dreamer, indeed. 

“Yea… I have to.” 

“I dunno... There’s gotta be better out there for you… you certainly deserve better.” There was a not-so-small part of him, a part that grew with every moment he spent with her, that desperately wanted to be that more for her. 

“This world is filled with people who deserve better, Michael. But we’re stuck with the hand we’re dealt until better comes along. And I don’t see any better hands coming my way. Just a long game of this shitty hand,” she whispered the last part under her breath as she checked herself in the mirror once more. She grabbed her clutch and started toward the door. “You ready? Car should be here, right?” 

He hated how resigned she was to her fate and treatment. He had more than enough money to give his family and friends, more than enough for them to take advantage of if they chose and none of them did. Raven had none of that and still gave her last to people that clearly did not appreciate it. And to know, she had every intention of doing it under some misguided belief they would thank her for it later broke his heart. It reminded him of how pure and kind-hearted she was but he knew her efforts would likely be wasted. But he would have loved to be proven wrong. 

He did not know her family so he knew it was wrong to judge them but all he felt was red hot anger. Quite frankly, the only benefit he saw to the reality that this arrangement was fake was that he would not have to meet her family himself. He did not know if he could even sit in the same room with them. 

“Before we go… got somethin’ for you.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need a gift. It’s your special night.” 

“Yea but wanted to give you somethin’ to remember me by. It benefits both of us, don’t worry.” His face was a sly smirk that told her the gift was not a normal one. “But first, Tasha and I aren’t hookin’ up anymore.” 

“Michael… you don’t have to…” 

He shook his head and interrupted her. “Nope. You didn’t let me finish that night and you’ve been weird about it ever since. So now, I’m talkin’ and you’re gonna listen. It’s ok to be annoyed. We should be exclusive. I called her and put that shit on pause until our arrangement is done. We’ve only hooked up once since we started dating and it was early on. But either way, you don’t gotta worry about her callin’ or me seein’ her while I’m with you. I got my hands full with you anyway,” he winked at her. 

Raven tried to limit the smile that wanted to blossom at his words. She was happy to hear she was not “competing” with Tasha as she thought. It was a narrative her own insecurities and anxieties created and fueled, a narrative that now seemed foolish. She still did not know why it mattered so much to her. Or rather, she knew, but she would never admit it out loud. 

“So we’re good?” 

“Y-Yea we’re good. Wasn’t worried,” she lied, trying to make her voice sound aloof and unbothered. She did not know why she bothered, she supposed she did not want her pride to be anymore damaged than it already was. 

Michael merely pursed his lips and chuckled before nodding toward the bed. “So you ready to be my slut again or am I still on pause?” 

Raven smiled. “I’m all yours.” 

“Good. Lay down for me, panties to the side.” 

Raven laid back on the bed, hiking up her dress to her waist so she could part her legs. She pulled her thong to the side, Michael licking his lips as he took in the mess between her thighs. 

“Already so wet for me. You missed me too, huh? This is gonna be fun,” he muttered to himself as he pulled a gold vibrator out of his pocket before sitting on the bed beside her, careful not to ruffle his perfectly-tailored tuxedo. 

He wasted no time sliding the vibrator inside her, Raven moaning lightly at the intrusion, the way his finger brushed against her clit. She wanted more, desperately. Her hips rolled to find his touch, his hand, her body begging for more action. But he denied her. His other hand fiddled with something small that looked like a remote control. 

“Know what this is?” 

“No, sir.” 

“It’s the controller. Tonight, you’re gonna keep that in you and I’m gonna have a little fun with this.” 

Raven let out a shaky breath. “Y-You expect me to keep this in… while we’re at a movie premiere? No way.” 

He nodded, a mischievous grin in his eye. “I recall you wanting to explore some fantasies. You tellin’ me sex in public ain’t one you’ve had?” 

She bit her lip as she contemplated it. The idea was certainly an intriguing one… but the risks?? 

“When would you use that?” 

“Whenever I want. That’s the fun part… for me anyway. And you’re gonna spend the night making sure that sexy ass face when you cum isn’t plastered across TMZ tomorrow.” 

Raven shook her head. “I dunno, Michael. I’m all for risk but this seems insane.” 

He let out an exaggerated sigh, his voice playful and teasing. “I thought you’d be up for it, thought you wanted to have fun but I understand if you’re too scared.” 

She heard the challenge in his voice. He was testing her, trying to see if she was really up for anything. She could not deny that the idea was intriguing. Having her orgasms at his mercy in public? Per usual with him, she knew she could say no. But as she ran over the risks, all she could think of was the thrill of it. She wanted it. She hated that she wanted it and hated that he knew she wanted it. But she did. 

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She clenched her muscles to ensure the new addition to her ensemble stayed tucked where it needed to be and she shimmied the delicate fabric of her gown back down to its proper place. 

“Car’s waiting,” she offered with a smirk as she grabbed her purse and walked out of his bedroom, deciding then and there that she would win whatever game he was playing tonight, and would show him that she was indeed up for any and everything. 

Michael watched her ass sway as she exited and smiled. 

“Gonna have a lot of fun with this.” 

***

Raven was so overwhelmed by the screaming fans and reporters and flashing lights that she almost forgot about the “gift” nestled in her core. She kept her smile bright as she and Michael started down the red carpet, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist. 

He looked down at her like the perfect image of a doting boyfriend, with love and protection in his eyes. He played the role so well, Raven almost caught herself falling for the act. But she supposed that was a good thing because it made her glances back at him more genuine. She knew they looked like the picture perfect couple, every gossip site raved about them after every date. She knew tonight would be no different. 

She was so focused on keeping her smile intact and her eyes from blinking too much as they stood on the red carpet that she failed to notice Michael slip his hand into his pocket. Her smile faltered for just a second as she felt the device come alive, sending shock waves directly against her g-spot. It was a steady soft buzz, just enough to make her feel it, causing the heat to rise throughout her body. But it was not enough to overwhelm her.  

Once she got over the initial surprise of the vibration, she was able to recompose herself with ease. She played off the change in her expression by adjusting something on her dress and continued posing with him.

Minutes passed and the vibration continued at its low pace, Raven enjoying the small jolts of pleasure. This was what she was supposed to be worried about? This was a piece of cake.

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek before turning her head from the cameras and whispering in his ear, “This is easier than I thought it’d be.”

Michael let out a deep laugh as if she had told a funny joke and pecked her sweetly on the nose, continuing their slow march down the carpet. 

Raven genuinely felt like she could deal with that all night as she listened to Michael give an interview. She remained tucked at his side with a smile on her face. The interviewer did not really ask her any questions, thank God. So she just smiled and concentrated on keeping her thighs together. 

“So Raven, I have to say, you look gorgeous. Who are you wearing?” 

“Th-” her words were cut short as the vibration pattern changed, this time a long vibration that steady increased before pulsing against her g-spot and starting over again. She coughed awkwardly, pretending as if she had swallowed wrong before saying. “T-thanks. V-versace.” 

Her answer was clipped and short, afraid her words would betray her if she opened her mouth. This was far different, this was ecstasy. Each vibration felt like the slowest, most tantalizing march up a mountain before someone pushed her back toward the bottom to do it all over again. And that pulse at the top? It sent a shockwave through her that made her see stars. Each time, she felt her fingers grip the fabric of Michael’s tuxedo jacket harder. The longer it droned on, the more her legs started to shake. 

“You ok, baby?” he asked sweetly, kissing her on the cheek innocently. 

“Y-Yea, of course.” 

“You two are so cute. Thanks for chatting with me and I can’t wait to see the film.” 

Michael said his goodbyes to the interviewer before guiding Raven away. 

“What’s harder?” he whispered in her ear as they walked inside the venue. He stopped her in the corner of the giant atrium before they walked into the screening room and tucked her against a wall in a corner. Only official photographers were allowed at this point. To anyone passing by, they just looked like a couple having a sweet moment.

“W-what?” She found even such a simple word laborious to get out and it sounded more like a moan than a word. With him mostly covering her body from view, she could not stop the way her hips rolled as the setting changed again. The pattern was the same but the cycle was faster, the intensity overwhelming as he  increased it to the next setting. 

“What’s harder?” he leaned in and whispered in her ear so lowly she almost could not hear her. “Keepin’ that pretty smile on your face when all you wanna do is close your eyes and bite your lip while you cum? Hidin’ your moans so no one here knows you’re a loud filthy slut? Or stoppin’ yourself from beggin’ me to fuck you in the bathroom over there?” 

She felt as if her entire body was in a frenzy. It was not just the vibrator, it was his hands gently pressing her to the wall innocently, it was the courses of people walking by them having no clue that she was on the cusp of the greatest pleasure of her life, it was that she could not stop it or him if he decided he wanted her to cum right then and there in front of everyone. 

“A-all… of it,” she whispered, her face burying itself in the nook of his neck, which helped hide the pleasure swimming in her eyes but only increased it as she took in his scent. His signature cologne had become intoxicating to her. 

“You wanna cum for daddy, baby?” His words were a light whisper that they knew could not be heard over the conversations and music playing throughout the hallway. 

It was taking everything in her not to collapse in front of him, his arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her standing. Her legs were pure jello, every inch of her body was on fire, boiling with pleasure and humiliation at being brought to orgasm at the nicest event she’d ever been to in her life. All she wanted to do was cum but she did not trust herself to hide it. 

“P-Please…” she whispered. She did not know if that please was to stop or to keep going. 

Michael smirked as he felt her hips buck against his again. She was so close, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her hips ground against nothing but air. It was subtle, not obvious to anyone else from the angle they stood at but he could feel it. 

“Beg.” He demanded. 

She clenched her eyes closed. All she wanted was to fall over this particular edge, right then and right now. She was so close, so close, it was almost agonizing to hold it in until he gave her permission. She glanced down as his finger hovered over the button to increase the setting again, knowing that she could not will him to hit that button. She would have to give him exactly what he wanted, what he always wanted. Submission. 

“P-Please… m-make me cum,” she muttered in his ear. “I-I need… it… p-please.” Tears stung in her eyes as she struggled to fight the urge to let go right then and there, hearing her own needy voice in the space. 

“Hm.” he offered quietly. “I don’t think you deserve it.” And with that, the vibration stopped completely. 

Raven could not stop the groan that escaped her lips as he stole her orgasm, her body screaming and protesting at her in pain at the sudden loss of pleasure. 

She let out a soft gasp as she glanced up at him. “You mother-” 

He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, completely silencing her. Raven’s entire body fell into his as they kissed, she could hear the soft snapping of a camera nearby on her right side. 

He offered her the sweetest smile before leaning to her left so the camera could not catch what he was saying.

“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I wouldn’t finish that sentence.” He straightened up and pressed his lips to her forehead, his arm still around her waist. His voice returned to a normal volume as he fixed her hair and ran his hand over the front of her dress. He looked like he was helping her adjust herself but he also wanted to make sure there was no evidence of their crimes. “It’s time for us to go to our seats. You ready?” 

Raven felt like she had whiplash from the last 5 minutes. He was good, far better than she gave him credit for at these games. She thought this was just going to be a fun experiment. But Michael never did anything small. And she was foolish to underestimate him. 24 hours ago, she would have never thought she would enjoy something like this. But now? She could play this game all night long, even though she was losing miserably. 

She peeled herself off the wall, her own hands running against the bodice of her dress. Her legs still felt a bit wobbly so she wrapped her arm in Michael’s to steady herself. She nodded and allowed him to lead her into the theater. 

She barely paid attention to the movie as she spent the entire two hours watching Michael like a hawk. Every time he shifted in his seat or moved one of his hands, she wondered if he was going to turn the vibrator back on. Halfway through the film, she realized it was not because she was dreading it. She wanted him to. She was internally willing him to turn the stupid thing back on, even if it was only at its lowest setting. Because even at the lowest setting, she knew she was sensitive enough to get where she wanted to be. She wanted to feel the tidal wave of pleasure, she wanted to drown in and bask in it and feel the adrenaline of doing so in public. Besides, the dark theater seemed like the perfect time if he truly wanted to push her completely over the edge. When she wasn’t praying to God that he would turn it on, she was wishing it was his fingers or his dick filling her and not a toy. 

She needed him so bad and truth be told, would have begged him to fuck her right then and there if they weren’t surrounded by hundreds of people. 

However, nothing happened. He paid her no attention throughout the entire film except for the hand that rested on her thigh. The minutes ticked on and on and on as the cast went up on stage to say a few words when the film ended. By the time they finally finished and were in the car to the afterparty, she was a horny, disgruntled mess. 

She kept her eyes trained on the window, even though it was tinted, when she felt Michael slide into the seat next to her. Two could play the ignoring game, she decided. 

His hand slid into the slit of her dress, pushing the expensive material to the side so he could have full access. When she did not part her legs for him immediately, he let out a disgruntled growl that was meant to be a command. She pretended she did not hear him and ignored it. 

He merely shook his head and laughed. “Aight, baby girl.” He pushed her knees apart with his hands, it took everything in her not to moan and keep her face stoic. 

His fingers immediately slid into her panties, the heat of her arousal hiting his skin before he even made contact with her body. He caressed soft circles into her clit. She gave him nothing, no moans, no humping into his hand. Nothing. So he upped the ante and turned the device on to the highest setting it had available. 

“Fuck!” She cried out, unable to keep it in as her body was assaulted with pleasure. The vibrator was more than enough to make her cum but adding his thumb against her clit was just simply unfair in her opinion. 

His free hand grasped her chin, firmly but loose enough that it was not painful and forced her eyes on him. Her breathing was heavy as she felt pleasure building fast in her core. Tears pricked her eyes, not from pain, but overwhelming, soul shattering pleasure, “You wanted me to make you cum in that theater, didn't you? In front of all those people like the filthy whore you are? Didn’t you? Upset that I ignored you? But guess what, baby girl?” he switched the setting to a lower one to keep her on the cusp of pleasure without sending her over. 

She let out a soft sob of agony as he held her there, suspended right at the cusp of her orgasm. This was more tortuous than him stopping cold turkey because she was so close she could taste it. And he kept it just out of reach. Every pulse, every caress of his finger was so much and overwhelming but still was not enough. And there was nothing she could do to force him to give her more. 

“Your body is mine, your pleasure is mine. And I decide when to fuck you, when you cum, when you suck my dick… I decide when you’ve been good… when you’ve been bad and what to do about it. It’s all mine. You can ignore me all you want but see how quickly you fell apart? You can’t win against me, baby girl. Daddy always wins. You understand?” 

She nodded rapidly, her body shaking lightly as she teetered on the edge, pleasure was consuming her every cell. She could barely think of anything but the raging inferno in her core.  “I-I understand. P-Please…” her voice broke. She felt as if she would quite literally perish if she did not come soon. He had never kept her on edge this long, a few seconds sure. But time was stretching into minutes. 

“You think you deserve it?” 

She didn’t deserve it, she knew the answer he wanted. “N-No, no… I’ve b-been bad, a bad girl. I d-deserve to be punished b-but I’m begging you… l-let me cum. I c-can’t… P-please,” her voice begged him for mercy. 

Deciding that she would pass out if he continued this game any farther, he pressed the button to return it to its highest setting. Her scream was nearly inaudible as she came on his fingers, her body shook as she gripped the door handle, shuddering through an intense orgasm. 

“That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s a good girl…” 

“Thank you, t-thank you,” she babbled back to him as he talked her through her orgasm. He turned the vibrator off completely, finally giving her a break. 

“Allen, circle the block a few times.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

At the sound of Allen’s voice, Raven’s eyes flew open and shock and humiliation set in. She had just cum… with another person in the car. And she had completely forgotten he was there. Once Michael had started going, the presence of another human being in their vicinity had completely vanished. She glanced up, surprised to find the limo divider up. She didn't even know when that happened. However, she knew that that barrier was not sound proof. However, instead of being utterly turned off by that idea, it just turned her on more. 

“You like knowing Allen heard you?” Michael whispered in her ear. 

“No,” she shot back as she fixed her dress and used the compact mirror she had stored in the limo before the premiere to fix her makeup. Thankfully she still looked pristine, despite feeling physically depleted. She did not know how she and Michael went round after round when one orgasm made her want to cuddle up under the covers and fall asleep. 

“I keep tellin’ you how much I hate lies. But you never listen. Might think because we have a long night and I got an early mornin’ that you’ll escape punishment. But you won’t. Means I have a couple weeks to think of the perfect punishment for such… insubordination.” 

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” she offered with a sweet smile and a wink that made him laugh. 

He did not get a chance to retort when Allen pulled up at the venue of the after party. He gave Raven a once over before getting out of the limo and grasping her hand. He longed to bury himself inside her but he knew he did not have time, at least not enough time to satisfy the urges he had. And while he would toy with public sex, this was not the venue or event to be caught fucking in the bathroom, as much as he wanted to. 

No, he supposed he would just deal with cold showers for two weeks until he could fuck her again, and spank her until she begged for mercy. Her pleas had done something to him, sweet music to his ears. The perfect orchestra. And he would use every free moment of the next few weeks to think of ways to get that sound again. 

***

Michael rubbed his eyes as he scrolled through his email. He knew he would sleep well on the plane. He hated the first thing in the morning flights but he knew they were the only way to keep up with his crazy press schedule. 

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Jordan,” Allen called from the front seat, Michael immediately hopping out. Allen grabbed his sea of bags as he waved at his castmates who were also just arriving to the tarmac. 

“Thanks, man. See you when I get back. Make sure Rae gets home ok today, aight? Then enjoy your time off.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Allen responded as he handed off his bags to the baggage attendants who would ensure they made it onto the plane. 

Michael started to walk away and head to the flight when he heard his name behind him. 

“Mr. Jordan!” Allen called after him, causing Michael to turn around. The older man jogged up to him. “A word of advice? If I am not overstepping my bounds?” 

Michael nodded, allowing the man to continue. Allen rarely spoke, he was the type who liked to do his job quietly and fade into the background.  And he preferred to keep it professional with Michael though there were a few topics they could shoot the shit over while in the car like basketball and the like. But Michael knew that meant Allen likely knew more about him than anyone else on this planet, which meant he would have been a fool not to hear him out. 

“Avoiding love and companionship, even when it is right there waiting for you to take it, will never bring you happiness. And some would say such an ill-guided venture was foolish and selfish, particularly when the world is filled with people like Ms. Turner who love and seek out love with their whole souls and it's denied to them at every turn. And you may be a bit selfish, Mr. Jordan,” Allen admitted. “But I never pegged you as foolish.” 

“What’re you sayin’?” 

“I’m saying that it does not matter how this whole thing between the two of you started. It only matters how you end it. And whether you are brave enough to admit to her and yourself that perhaps you don’t want it to end at all.” Allen patted him on the arm before taking a step back. “There’s no reward for loneliness, Mr. Jordan… no Oscar to win for denying yourself more when you know you want it. The only prize those actions will give you is a lifetime of regret. And I believe you’re living a life too bright to have it dimmed by regrets.” he paused. “I hope I have not overstepped too much. But… well, there was a time a decade or two ago when I would’ve liked someone to overstep and tell me that.” 

Michael stared at him for a few moments before he nodded. After his last very public and embarrassing breakup, he vowed never to fall in love again. Years of women warming his bed before he kicked them out before sunrise. He got what he wanted and gave nothing of himself… to any of them. But Raven… from the moment he watched her staring out that window, he gave without even realizing how much he had given. And now, he felt things for her that he had not felt for a woman in so long. Hell, he wondered if he had ever felt this strongly for another person in his entire life. He wanted more… not a contract or a business dealing. He wanted her. Was he being utterly foolish by pretending that was not the case? 

 “You did… overstep.” His tone was a bit cold but he was unsurprised at how Allen did not backtrack or shrink. He said his piece, called him out and was willing to accept whatever the consequences of that were. “But maybe I need more people to do that. Will you do me a couple favors when you go back to the penthouse to pick up Raven?” 

“Anything, sir.” 

***

Raven groaned as she turned over in Michael’s soft bed. She had fallen asleep in his master bedroom alone, as she always did when they slept here. He always took the guest room. She wondered if she should be more sad that they slept separately but she agreed that that was not intimacy either one of them truly needed. She groped around the bed for her phone, groaning when she realized it was already 11 a.m. Thankfully, she had another two hours before her shift but she knew she needed to hurry up so she could get home and change into her real clothes, not the fancy designer ones she kept there. 

She pulled herself out of bed and stretched, part of her sad that Michael opted to go to sleep instead of fucking her. She understood he had an early day but she could not deny that all she wanted was for him to bend her into a pretzel after that orgasm in the car. But last night was, for the most part, strictly work. They did not get home and go to bed until 3 am and he had to get up shortly thereafter to catch his flight. And now she was left with nothing but a vibrator and fantasies of him to occupy her until he returned. But he had succeeded in giving her something to remember him by. She walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, rubbing her eyes as she dragged her feet across the hardwood floors.

Michael gave her free reign of his penthouse, even when he was not there. She did not spend the night there often but she had started to learn her way around, figure out where the sparse things he kept there were. A few dishes, a couple glasses, a fridge filled with coconut water and little food. When she slept there, so did he. But she had never really stopped to wonder where he spent the rest of his time. She guessed he had some giant mansion in the hills like every other star. But she wondered if that one was just as cold as this one, just as void of comfort and love, just as sterile. 

She guessed it was not. Otherwise, he would have her come there. No, that one was the sanctuary for the real him, she imagined it was warm and overflowing with his favorite things. Japanese anime artifacts and art and memorabilia and his awards and family photos and all the things that meant something to him. And this one was merely for his image, sterile and artificial. 

She blinked a couple of times, shocked to find a neat and perfectly packaged gift bag waiting on the counter with a long envelope sitting up against it. 

She sucked her teeth and chuckled, “This nigga. I thought I said no gifts,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a glass of water and sat at the barstool. Part of her contemplated not opening it. What had he even given her a gift for? Her birthday was weeks ago. But her desire to know what he got her won out. 

She went to the envelope first, her name written in handwriting far too nice to be Michael’s on the front. She flipped it over and smiled as the person had written on the back: Open me last :) 

“On the other side of the damn country and still giving commands.” 

And you’re still following them, she imagined his voice shooting back at her as she placed the thick envelope to the side and reached into the bag. She made quick work of discarding the multi-colored gift bag paper to reveal two books. She pulled the first one out. 

“Whoa,” she muttered as she took in a first edition copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. She turned it over in her hands, mouth agape as she studied it. It was beautiful and she knew it cost a pretty penny.  

Her hand reached into the bag and pulled out a book she knew all too well. Her own. An odd gift, she thought, though she supposed it was sweet that he went looking for it in the first place. She wondered how he found it as she published under a pseudonym but she imagined a man with his resources could find out almost anything he wanted with time. 

She flipped it open as she sat back down on her bed, a smaller envelope the size of a card falling out of it. He had stuck it in on the acknowledgements page, which read: From one dreamer to another. 

She opened Michael’s card and took in his handwriting. 

Thank you for sharing what you did with me on your birthday. I know the day isn’t easy. And apologies that this gift was so late - but I figured this was a loophole in the no gifts rule if you got it weeks later? And it took some time to track down your book. You didn’t make it easy. I’m looking forward to reading it on my flight. I generally agree with everything you say but I would disagree with one thing you said that night. The first time we met, you said Maya Angelou’s book saved you and gave you hope. I’m sure somewhere in this world, a young girl is reading your book and it’s doing the same for her. That’s something good that came out of October 15: the world got you. And that��s worth celebrating in my opinion. 

I hope, one day, you see that too.

Happy Birthday

Michael 

Raven let the tears that streamed down her face fall, one of them splashing against the glossy cover of her book. She wiped it away before rereading his card over and over again. She hated how he seemed to see her, really see her, and everything she truly needed. There he was again, caring more than anyone else, more than he should have, even when she was mad at him.  It just made her want him for every reason she shouldn’t. She should want to fuck him… she should want his money… That was all she signed up to get. A few months of cash and to let him dick her down better than she ever had been before. All her problems and loneliness solved, at least temporarily.

Instead, her heart and soul were slipping deep into dangerous territory, he was dangerous territory. She still tried to force herself to resist it, her body hanging by a rope that was fraying at the middle as if an invisible force was taking an ax to it. And she did not know if she wanted to scramble back onto the ledge or let herself fall.

After a few minutes, she picked up the other envelope and slid the folded up pieces of paper out of it. The first one made her gasp… a flight confirmation for a first class ticket to Paris dated for one week from today. The second page was a short list of the things she should pack.  And the third was her hotel confirmation, a suite at a hotel she could not even pronounce but one quick google search let her know it was one of the nicest and most expensive hotels the city had to offer. 

The last page only contained two sentences in Michael’s handwriting. 

I hope you have a passport. See you in one week.

Raven spread the pages out on the counter, her face paralyzed in shock. 

“What the actual fuck?” She examined all of them, rereading as if the information on them would vanish or change right before her eyes. But the flight confirmation had her name on it, the hotel room… her name. It was all there in black and white. He was inviting her to Paris. 

“I should say no…” she spoke to herself, a false ring of conviction in her voice. “I can’t accept this.” Her internal debate raged as she paced up and down by the kitchen island, her eyes studying the papers with each pass. 

You know you want to, the devil on her shoulder reasoned. And fuck, did she want to. It’s fun… when’s the last time we took a trip or did anything fun? 

She had never wanted to accept anything as badly as she wanted to accept this. She chewed on her lip so hard she was surprised she did not draw blood as she debated and debated. Until her phone buzzed with a text from Mr. Surprises himself.

Michael: damn you sleep late as hell. 

Michael: Am I gonna see you in Paris in a week?

Raven: This was a huge gamble… What if I didn’t have a passport? 🤔

Michael: It was a huge gamble but not because of the passport. Consider it PTO… Come live a little. 

Michael: So did my gamble pay off or nah? 

She read through the papers one more time, deciding then and there that she was 100% going to Paris. Even her pride could not allow her to deny herself this experience. However, she decided to make him sweat a little, though she doubted he actually would. 

Raven: I guess you’ll find out in seven days. Thanks for the gift.  

Raven locked her phone before chuckling to herself. She grabbed her phone and the itinerary page and let out an excited squeal and did a happy dance before she raced off to her closet. She had a trip to pack for. 

Tag list: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333@roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc

***

A/N: Wellllllllll… a lot happened! A little angst, a little fluff, a little smut lol just gave y'all the full spectrum of things. And it wouldn't be one of my fics if I didn't give you a character or two to despise along the way lol

Next chapter, we go to Paris, which not gonna lie… that wasn't in the OG outline of this haha but inspiration struck and now I'm very excited lol Drop a comment and let me know all your thoughts lol Thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[theshushdragonsleeps]

So I'm pretty bad at expressing myself through writing cuz I'm pretty shit at it, but I can't get out of my head the scene of Jaiden comforting and confronting Roier during Festa Junina. It's the fact that Jaiden, through her own grief and self isolation, grabs a hold of a drowning Roier. Looking at him and truly seeing him and accepting him at his lowest point. Loudly declaring that he deserves kindness and love and she is his partner and that she is here for him. 

And I believe she will not waver about her conviction and affection for him. And while she may need time and she may be hurt beyond comprehension, she will never actually leave him until the day she is no longer wanted. (Even then she will leave with kindness and understanding.) 

In fact, until the day when one or both are ready to come apart and become their own person again, I believe that together they will be holding each other up. Unwilling to let the other fall despite their own pain.

And just, I love their partnership so much. I know other people in this fandom have been upset that Jaiden or Roier haven't been there for each other enough since Bobby's death, but I need people to understand that both are the type to self isolate when upset. Like Roier might still be a part of the bigger group and acting dramatic around others while Jaiden is acting fine with her usual silliness and then completely disappearing, but both doing the same thing. Both are trying to make a “joke” about how much of a mess they have become after Bobby died without ever having to open up and talk to anybody about it. Both are giving a show as if to say “I wont let you see how much I’m actually hurting because if you actually saw me grieve without my mask of silliness, I will become a burden and you will leave me” 

And by god if I don't feel this to my very core which might be why I’m so obsessed over this. Cuz despite their own fear of being perceived and the feeling of becoming a burden or being looked down upon and used, they are still reaching out and offering others nothing but love.

Like if I remember correctly there was a time when someone (I can't remember who, sorry) asked Roier what he wanted and he said that he wanted someone to fully accepting him and give him a place to feel like he was being cared about, and to be the one on the receiving end of love rather than always being the one to reach out. And here is Jaiden with the sun rising behind her with arms wide open bathed in the new dawning warmth, only offering love and asking for nothing in return. 

Bobby may have been their sunset, but together through the love they have for each other they are creating their own sunrise. 

 And just, ahhhh, sorry I know all of this was overly long winded and badly written and I'm deeply embarrassed by the fact that I can't write better than this but I wanted to try out being a part of a voice in the void of a fandom for once and get a little bit of my love for these two out there.

#qsmp #qsmp jaiden #qsmp roier #I've actually edited this down a lot and still feel like I'm not properly articulating myself #like there are things in here Im worried will come across wrong #or im miss remembering roier talk about how he wants someone to care about him #did i make that up?? #ahhhhhhhh #im so scared so im posting this late when no one else usally posts to minamize who sees this #also i understand my gramer and uses of commas and periods are wrong #Ive always been bad at writing and I feel guilty making other people read it #sorry

[arent-i-the-fairest]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

some staff members taking care of a sick reader. (platonic)

characters : dire crowley, divus crewel, sam

dire crowley

“headmaster, are you sure you’re fit for this? because this place has plenty of nurses that are.”

your comment made crowley gasp and stop what he was doing. before he had the chance to start running around bawling, you had to backtrack.

“i mean— i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to call you incompetent or anything! it’s just that i, uh… don’t wanna inconvenience you? yeah! y’know, since you’re so busy all the time..” you sputtered, offering him an awkward grin.

crowley held a hand up to his heart, tearing up. “oh! how kind of you, child! it seems my benevolence has rubbed off on you! but not to worry! why, i have plenty of time to finish my work later!” he sniffled.

you immediately relaxed. thank god he bought it! but man, are you gonna make it out alive in his care? is it too late to call someone a bit more reliable?

“i will nurse you back to perfect health! ohoho, how incredibly kind of me~!” he laughs as he skipped away to god knows where.

he’s outraged at the assumption that he doesn’t know how to care for sick people! taking care of you can’t be that hard! he can cook you a hearty meal, and… and read you a bed time story! that’ll make you better! hell, maybe he can even sing you a lullaby! he’s pretty sure he’s got a bandaid or two too if you need them!

—yeah, no, he’s not the most ideal person for the job. the most helpful things he could do is fetch you your medicine and refill your glass of water when it’s empty. and cheer you up, you suppose. he’s very entertaining despite not meaning to be.

you flinch as the door suddenly slams open. standing there in the doorway is crowley with a bowl in hand with a goofy smile on his face.

“please excuse the wait! now here, i’ve made you some soup! i taste tested it, and it’s delicious, if i do say so myself!” he smiles proudly, not at all hiding his haughtiness.

looking at the meal, it actually did look quite good. smelled really good too! you frowned, feeling a bit guilty. maybe you were a bit too harsh, thinking he was totally incapable…

“now, enough of my chatter! open wide, here comes the airplane!” crowley cooed as he started waving a spoonful of the soup towards your mouth.

“i’m not a child, headmaster!” you complained, yet still opened your mouth as the spoon came closer. you drank the soup— and immediately recoiled at the taste. “it’s repulsive!”

divus crewel

“good grief.. i told you not to go out in the rain with those other pups!” crewel hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “look where you are now!”

though the scolding was a bit harsh, he was right. you were sitting in bed with a runny nose, itchy red eyes, and a high fever. while running around and playing in the rain with your friends was fun, it was definitely not worth this.

“honestly, just what am i going to do with you?” crewel looked at you with a softer expression. you sit in silence as he sighs, unboxing the medicine he brought for you.

he’s strict, even while you’re sick. he watches you like a hawk for most of the day, cooks you only the healthiest of meals, doesn’t let you leave your bed unless you absolutely need to, and keeps track of how much time is left until you need to take your medicine down to the second. he’s aware he’s being a bit overbearing, but he just wants to see you better as soon as possible.

“hey, now that i think about it, classes are still in session right now. are alchemy classes cancelled today since you aren’t there?”

crewel scoffs. “of course not. i wouldn’t just give everyone a free day off. but i also don’t trust a single pup using chemicals unsupervised, so i have the headmaster substituting for me.” he said. you quirked an eyebrow and he returned the look.

“you seriously trust the headmaster enough to let him look after a class full of rambunctious, clumsy— and sorry for saying this, but sometimes downright dumb students? who are all handling dangerous chemicals?”

you could see concern growing on crewel’s face as he considered the chaos that could be happening right now in his classroom.

“... perhaps i should check up on them.”

sam

“knock knock, little imp! i heard from my friends from the other side that you’re sick. is that true?” sam asked as he entered your room.

you weakly turned over to look at him and nodded. “it sure is.”

“no worries, i’m here to help ‘ya! just tell me whatcha need and you got it! i’m only here for half an hour though. i’m sorry, kid.” he frowned. “i gotta get back to my shop, but you can always call me!”

sam, while he hates to leave you alone sick, still has to manage his shop. he’s not too concerned though, he knows you’re plenty capable of caring for yourself! but every few hours, he’ll come back to check up on you. each time does, he brings you food/snacks and sometimes a weird (but ultimately cool) knick-knack to come with it. just a little something to brighten your mood!

you perk up at the sound of knocking.

“hey hey~! guess who’s back?” sam whistled. “i brought you some dinner. and your favorite drink! and this little clay statue. ain’t he neat?”

you nodded, thanking him as he put the stuff down beside you. the statue caught your eye, so you picked it up and played around with it. it looked oddly familiar.

“hey wait! i swear i’ve seen this thing sitting on your desk for the past few months..” you flip it around in your hands, analyzing it.

“yeah, it’s been a favorite of mine. there’s actually a funny story behind it if you’re interested in hearin’ it.” sam said, leaning against your bed’s headboard. you looked up at him with interest clear in your eyes.

“ooh, tell me!”

“heh, alright!” sam laughed, ruffling your hair. “so a couple years ago…”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #dire crowley x reader #divus crewel x reader #twst sam x reader #gn reader

[wrenwinchester]

As much as I love the Jody is the boys real mom idea, I would just like to say, Jody was only 3 years older than Dean, and 7 years older than Sam. She’s more like their big sister who took care of them, took them in, and made sure they were taken care of. And especially in later seasons that’s how they seem. However, it’s also weird because of her thing with Bobby. So like. I don’t know I just. Anyway. It’s fine. I’m not sobbing as I watch season 12 episode 6 “celebrating the life of Asa Fox” as Jody acts more like a sister in the first half but later becomes more motherly, but also I think that’s just because of when the boys came into her life (right after she lost her son.) and I don’t know. I just… it’s fine.

And excuse me while I scream as Sam comforts his MOTHER and reassures her like Dean used to do when he was little. Like she’s a full grown adult, so why is she constantly acting like a baby. And also the fact that she just I don’t know man. Just Fuck Mary Winchester. And her antics. This, and the whole British Men of Letters thing.

Also. Straight up, the fact that Mary left her barely over 1 year old son to go “tie up loose ends” like how could you do that to any 1 year old, let alone your own kid. Like I know she left him with his dad, but still. Most moms I know have trouble leaving their own kid for more than a couple hours, let alone the potential weeks it would take to complete a hunt. Like, what did John think she was doing? Did she leave Dean with John, or someone else. Like. God. What the fuck is she doing.

Also, I’ve said before that Millie Wren doesn’t particularly like Mary, especially after the whole initial men of letters thing, she kind of despised her, still loves her, but doesn’t like her one bit. After the whole brainwashing thing, it just gets worse. Mary had to actually shoot her to get her to back down, she didn’t take her out, it was a leg shot or shoulder shot. But despite all that, she didn’t forget. She knew it wasn’t really her Mom, but seeing her mom shoot her with no remorse, even if it wasn’t a kill shot. Again, she forgave her. But still, it was hole after hole after hole put in her heart, killing her slowly. The grief she felt was immense, the pain and guilt of it all was a lot.

And yeah, of course Millie loves Mary, adores her even, but god does she hate her. The choices she made, the deal to save John, the deal that sealed her brothers’ fates as vessels for the divine, vessels for the apocalypse. And the fact that once she was back, she barely called or texted. She lied to them over and over again. Her decisions always served to better herself, her own life, but never seemed to help her kids. The people she claimed to love. The people she once died for.

This was supposed to be a short commentary on Jody and the boys, but here we are.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #the winchesters #the winchester brothers #millicent winchester #the winchesters sister #middle sister winchester #millie wren #millie wren is my roman empire #mary winchester #fuck mary winchester #millie winchester #winchesters #jody mills #millie wren my beloved #millie wren is my roman empire and i can’t stop thinking about her #fanfiction #supernatural brain rot #supernatural brain rot is real man.

[multifariousqueer]

Precautions and Passings| Shurix Reader

Pairing: Shuri x scarlettwitch!reader

A/n: Hey guys! I’ve wanted to write something like this for a while now and the fact that I did is really just crazy to me. Request what else you’d like to see. This pic is dark asf and probably the darkest thing I've ever written. Also I didn't proofread this so if their are errors anywhere...ignore them?

Summary: Grief takes a toll on all of us doesn’t it? 

Word Count: 2.6k(it's a long one ik)

Warnings: ANGST OMG SO MUCH ANGST, death, m!rder, the dark hold, some suggestive undertones, explicit language, fluff, time jumps, dark!Shurixdark!reader

10 years ago:

“It’s so fascinating, her powers are unlike something I’ve ever seen before.”- Shuri said

“Is she a threat or not?” The elders asked.

“If we don’t play our cards right, yes. She has the power to create and destroy realities and universes including our own anytime.” Shuri answered.

“Bast have mercy on all of us” The elder of the merchant tribe said.

___________________________________________

You had met Shuri during a mission when your lip revealed that you were part wakandan. T’challa saw this and immediately took you back to Wakanda where Shuri was there waiting to run tests on you. She spoke so confidently and moved like she knew what and where everything was. Even though you practically had the powers of a God, you were still intimidated and afraid but you had to put on a facade and pretend you too knew everything.

“Do you speek Xhosa?” Shuri asked.

“Barely. Do you speak English?” You answered.

“Barely.” She smirked.

“Oh. Well um-” You started but you were immediately interrupted.

“I’m kidding. I guess your kind doesn’t understand basic humor?” She said.

“What do you mean “my kind”?” You said, sitting up and attempting to cross your arms but it seemed you were in some type of restraint.

“Just a precaution. We don’t know your power capabilities yet and we didn’t want you to lash out.” Shuri answered

“It’s okay.” You said, half insulted and half curious as to how they made restraints strong enough to hold you.

“So… from looking at your file, it appears a meteorite hit your house filled with some sort of substance that we don’t have in our records and it gave you your powers. Is that correct?” Shuri asked.

“Who am I kidding, it is correct” Shuri answered her own question.

“Well actually if you would’ve shut up and let me talk, you would know that while yes the basic information is correct, the ‘substance’ was actually a glowing red rock and the meteorite that hit my house, killed my parents and when i tried to go to the funeral…” You trailed off, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” Shuri said looking down.

“It’s fine.” You said looking down at the floor. You tried to fiddle with your powers but immediately heard an alarm and a shock flew through your body.

“Just a precaution?” You smirked at Shuri

You could tell she felt a bit embarrassed but she called off the alarm.

“We would like you to stay in Wakanda for a bit longer, just to keep you safe and run some more tests.” Shuri spoke.’

“Do I have an option to object?” You asked with a smirk

“No,” Shuri said, walking away.

“Get her set up in the reformative program” She spoke in her native language and left you alone on the table.

2 years later

It had been 1 year since you and Shuri made it official that you were dating. You were in her lab when you overheard T’challa talking about Thanos coming to Wakanda in search of the infinity stones and Vision coming to get it extracted by Shuri. It was bittersweet when you saw the avengers, of course these people practically raised you but at the same time, they gave you up so easily. You knew that this was bigger than you however so you prepared to fight and protect Shuri and Wakanda at all costs.

“I’ll stay by you, sthandwa.” you said to Shuri.

“Your Xhosa is getting better my love.” Shuri said to you.

“Thank you. I can now hold a basic conversation about the weather.” You chuckled

“And ask where the bathroom is,” Shuri laughed back.

You just smiled and looked at her for a moment.

“Are you okay?” She said

“I’m perfect, why?” You asked

Shuri had opened her mouth but was interrupted by the avengers waking in and Vision sitting on the table. You stayed with Shuri even after Thanos invaded Wakanda and fought off one of Thanos’ goons but in the end, it was too late. Vision had left the table and Shuri was injured. You stayed with her, healing her with your powers and asking her if she was okay.

“I’m fine it’s just,” She trailed off

“If it’s about Vision, I’ll go get him.” You said getting up

“No no it’s too late, the stone reverted back to its original state in his head, all that we can do now is hope that Thanos gets defeated or at least, doesn’t win” Shuri said.

You put your forehead against hers and you held her hand. You heard Thor scream out “WHAT DID YOU DO?” to Thanos and that’s how you knew that you were in the Endgame now.

You saw Shuri fade to dust and shortly after, you did too.

6 years later

“I now pronounce you wife and wife.” The officiant said.

You and Shuri had decided to get married after the blip. It made both of you realize how much you loved eachother and how much you needed eachother.

You smiled at how beautiful your Shuri looked and she smiled at how beautiful you looked. You kissed and she practically picked you up off of the ground. The ceremony was certainly grand because of the fact that you married a literal princess. Everyone danced and sang happy cheers for you and Shuri. There wasn’t a point in which you and Shuri weren’t smiling or laughing. You kept the tradition of the dance between you and Shuri so you slow danced to a song that had meaning to the both of you. It was the song you played while cleaning your room when Shuri walked in during the first night of your stay in Wakanda.

“I like this song. It has a nice beat.” Shuri said.

“The beat is one of my favorite parts of the song.” You said.

You laughed and took off your dress with your magic and let your hair down. You undid Shuri’s dress in one swipe of your hand and kissed her forehead before pulling Shuri closer to you.

“Mmmmm we haven’t consummated our marriage yet you know?” Shuri smirked.

“That’s about to change.” You said, waving your hand to turn off the lights and move you both to the bed.

When you woke up the next morning, you kissed Shuri’s forehead and rested your chin on her head. Your heartbeats were beating in sync and your legs still were entangled together from last night. She woke up and lightly kissed you on the lips before Griot alerted you both of you.

“Princess, T’challa’s vitals are incredibly low and he is not doing well.” Griot said.

“What??” Shuri jumped out of bed and threw on her robe.

“I don’t understand, he was moving just fine yesterday and everything was fine, what happened?” Shuri shouted to her frenzied staff.

“It doesn’t matter, find me the solution to recreating the heart-shaped herb from the fibers in this piece of vibranium.”

“Yes princess.” They said, running around

You sat beside T’challa’s bedside and held his hand. You attempted to heal him of the illness but it was too deep to fix. You held his hand to the very end and spoke to him.

“It's okay, you can rest now. I’ll take care of Shuri.” You said kissing his forehead.

You cried with Shuri when he passed and walked beside her at the funeral. You made sure she had your full love and support at this time. The Queen appreciated you being there and you used your powers in any way you could. You felt heartbroken that you couldn’t heal him or heal Shuri’s sadness but you could only do so much.

1 year later

Shuri had been in her lab for 3 days now. She wasn’t taking breaks like she used to and was pulling more all nighters. You knew why so you just held her hand through all of the pain and let her do whatever she needed to do.

“Hey I made you breakfast.” You said taking her dishes from last night’s dinner. It was picked over and barely touched despite you making her favorite dish.

“Didn’t you just make me a meal?” Shuri asked.

“That was dinner, honey it’s breakfast time. It’s 9:00 so you’ve been down here since Sunday.”

“I KNOW THAT Y/N. AND I’D APPRECIATE IF INSTEAD OF DIRTYING UP MY SPACE YOU WOULD JUST LEAVE.” Shuri shouted

“I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’VE BEEN DOWN HERE FOR THIS LONG, I HAVE NEEDS TO YOU KNOW. AND INSTEAD OF PUSHING YOU TO BE PRODUCTIVE, I’VE BEEN LETTING YOU DO WHATEVER YOU NEED TO GRIEVE SO BE CUT ME SOME FUCKING SLACK.” You screamed, levitating off of the ground and your powers coming out of your hands.

“OF COURSE YOU HAVE FUCKING NEEDS BECAUSE THAT’S ALL YOU TALK ABOUT.” Shuri shouted back.

“I JUST WANT MY WIFE BACK.” You cried.

“SHES DEAD. SHE DIED WITH HIM” Shuri sobbed

You hugged each other and sobbed. This was the part of grief and loss no one talks about; the part that makes you indulge in destructive habits and hurt the little family you still have. Shuri never meant to hurt you and you knew that but it was still painful when she would lash out. You got up and took her with you. You went up to the shower and cleaned her up a bit. She was still the most beautiful person you had ever met, despite the depression setting in. You got her in her favorite t-shirt of yours and put her in the bed. You laid beside her and cuddled her in as close as possible:

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. And I’m sorry for not making that clear enough and I’m sorry for everything I haven’t done for you…” Shuri trailed off. Her voice shook a bit and you could tell she was crying.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay. We’re struggling right now, we’re both grieving and that’s okay. Let’s just take it one day at a time.” You said softly

“Okay, sthandwa” Shuri said.

4 days later

“What do you mean my wife was kidnapped??” You screamed at Okoye.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I tried to get her back but they had superhuman stren-” Okoye excused

“THAT’S NOT AN EXCUSE. THAT’S MY WIFE AND I DON’T KNOW IF SHES DEAD OR ALIVE.” You screamed with tears in your eyes.

“You know what? Where was she taken? I’ll find her and murder their entire empire in one day.” You said.

“Y/n I know that you’re scared and I am too but attacking everyone in an attempt to find Shuri is not wise.” The Queen tried to advise

“I DON’T CARE. I WILL FIND MY WIFE AND BRING HER HOME SAFE NO MATTER WHAT. Because you clearly couldn’t” You said looking at Okoye, flying past her and suiting up.

You saw into Shuri’s mind using the darkhold and found where she was being kept. You teleported to the location which was underwater and saw Shuri with some girl. One of the blue people holding your beloved captive, put a knife to her neck.

“I’ll kill her.” The blue person said

“You don’t wanna know what I’ll do to get her back. Let her go and I’ll speak to your leader because you clearly aren’t the one in charge here.” You said.

“You killed her.” The blue person said holding the knife closer to Shuri’s neck drawing a bit of blood.

You teleported behind the blue lady and stabbed her through the torso. She fell to the ground and let Shuri go:

“Let’s go. Now.” You said

“Y/n you don’t understand, this will mean war.”

“I will wipe out these blueberries with one swipe of my hand, Let’s. Go” You said.

“Wait-” Shuri said.

You pulled her away and teleported back to the palace in front of the Queen. The Queen thanked you profusely and hugged Shuri for what seemed to be a fortnight.

“Thank you, Y/n. “ The Queen said through tears.

“It was no trouble at all.” You said.

Shuri and Aneka made a break for her lab and you made a break for the room in which you kept the darkhold. If what Shuri said about the blueberries starting a war was true, you had to be prepared. You saw through Shuri’s eyes that she was prepping technology when you sensed something was off. You knew that they were there and ready.

You fought and killed as many Talokans as you could when you heard Shuri’s scream. You rushed over to see her screaming for her mother as her lifeless body was laying on the water soaked throne room. You held Shuri and sobbed against her as you reflected on the last interaction you had with The Queen.

2 days later

You had stood by Shuri for the second time in the past 2 years in a funeral setting. You held her hand and watched as she prepared to kill the man responsible for her mothers death. You helped in any way you could, employing the help of the darkhold through it all and watching as your wife turned into the thing she resented the most. You watched as she turned into the black panther and prepared the warriors of Wakanda to get ready to execute her plan of attack. While you admit the suit looked good on her, you couldn’t help but notice the shocking resemblance to Killmonger’s suit. Deep down, you knew who she saw in the ancestral plane and you knew why she saw him. You knew everything that she thought she was a mastermind of hiding; you knew the burning feeling of revenge coursing through her veins and her master plan to execute her plan and almost drive the Talokans to extinction. Your fingertips hadn’t turned black from the book yet so you thought you were in the clear. Shuri hadn’t seemed to notice you were employing the help of dark magic at all; you expected this because she hardly paid attention to the little things anymore. Shuri was always a terse and broad person but the past 2 years she had become more of a “bigger picture” person. If it wasn’t directly in her face, she didn’t care.

You had fought off as many of the Talokans as you could. You killed more of them then people you ever met in your life. But still, despite these efforts they kept coming; they were like a cerberus. You cut off one head, another 4 pop up in it’s place. You must’ve killed off half of their army when you saw Shuri and Namor come over the boat. You were proud of Shuri for not resorting to murder and for being the bigger person. Shuri and you both went home and got cleaned up and went to sleep together for the first time in weeks.

4 days later

Shuri had insisted you both go on a walk around Wakanda and check on some of the families affected by the attack. You happily obliged since this was the first time she had offered up an outing in years. You two journeyed away into the forest when you both swung each other around and before you knew it, she was on top of you:

“How did I get so lucky?” She had asked you

“I ask myself that everyday” You smiled.

She leaned in for a kiss when a portal suddenly appeared:

“Y/n L/n?” The man asked

“Who’s asking?” You said, slightly frightened and slightly pissed that you were being interrupted.

“Stephen Strange. We need to have a talk about the darkhold.”

#mcu shuri #shuri #shuri black panther #shuriangst #shuri x reader #shurixscarlettwitch!reader #shuri headcannons #black panther #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever #angst #shuri smut #foryou

[softspeirs]

Okay, this is going to be a bit of a long shot, but how about 'hands' and 'rescue' for Grace Fleming - and Helen, our Clubmobile girl! (Something something...shared grief?)

A/N: Ooh, thanks Merc! Loved an excuse to get these two ladies together.

It’s Tatty who first comes to the infirmary, her steps unsure and her eyes a little tired, a little sad.

Grace is busy folding blankets and towels, and greets her with a breezy hello, her eyes flitting between Tatty’s troubled face and her hands that are clenched at her side.

“Lieutenant,” she says, a tiny smile appearing on her lips. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Hey, Tatty.” Grace is a little surprised at herself for feeling shy. It’s almost like realizing the popular girl at school wants to talk to her. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you—“ she takes a step closer, lowers her voice. “Would you mind talking to Helen? Casually, if you don’t mind.”

Grace puts down the blanket in her hands. “Is she okay?”

Tatty nods. “I think so. Just— she got to know this pilot at the party the night before last… between you and me, she barely got more than a few hours of sleep, they were out dancing so late.”

Grace’s heart sinks. “Oh, Tatty… did he—“

“He was with the new crew. Rosenthal’s. He didn’t make it.”

.

Grace finds Helen in the Clubmobile, like she suspected she would. Helen isn’t the type to shirk her duties, no matter how she’s feeling.

“Morning!” Helen says brightly. Grace doesn’t miss the way her hands shake slightly as she gathers herself. “It’ll be a few minutes for donuts but I can get you some coffee while you wait.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

The cup is steaming when it comes out, and Grace inhales. “God, but that smells good.”

“Coffee in the morning always does.”

They stand in companionable silence for a few minutes before Grace decides she better just ask. “How are you doing, Helen?”

The smile on her face doesn’t go away, but freezes in place. “I’m okay.”

Grace nods. Looks at the bags under Helen’s eyes and the way her movements seem automatic, robotic. She knows combat fatigue. There isn’t a snappy name for this type of grief, though. The type where you know someone for barely a day, and yet their loss hits you like a freight train.

It’s a unique part of living on an air base, and Grace doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it.

“You need a day off?” Grace asks quietly. “No shame in it. I can talk to whoever I need to-“

“No.” Helen’s voice is firm, but still pleasant. “I’m okay. I want to keep working. It’s— it’ll help.”

Grace nods. She doesn’t want to overstep. She also knows that everyone on this base, especially these women who have such a vital role to play, are far more resilient than people give them credit for.

They’re interrupted by the still-half-asleep figures of Captain Rosenthal and Lieutenant Lewis.

“Ma’am,” Rosenthal greets her, and she watches as he struggles to make eye contact with Helen.

“Morning Helen,” Lewis says, either not feeling as shy as his friend, or determined to lighten the mood. “Coffee would be great.”

“You got it,” she says. Grace is pleased to see Helen’s hands aren’t shaking anymore when she gathers the cups and gets to work.

.

It’s over a year later and Grace almost wants to laugh when their roles are reversed. She can’t bring herself to even smile when she sees the woman approaching.

“Grace?”

Grace’s hands start to shake at the care and tenderness in her friend’s voice. She cannot allow herself to break down. If she does, she won’t be able to make it the rest of her shift, and too much time alone with her thoughts is no good.

“Grace.” Helen’s hand finds hers. Stops her relentless folding and moving and fidgeting. “Hey. Slow down.”

“Funny that you need to come to my rescue now, huh.”

Helen shakes her head. “You don’t need anyone to rescue you.” She ducks her head so she can meet Grace’s eyes. “He’s alive, Grace. I know it.”

Grace shakes her head. “How can you be so sure?” Tears spring to her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. “He’s been so lucky so far…”

“It’s not luck. He’s the best pilot we’ve got. I don’t know where he is, but he’s going to come back.”

Grace sniffs. “It’s just— this one feels harder. It feels harder to believe he’s going to keep coming back.”

“Couldn’t keep Major Rosenthal away from you for too long, Grace.” Helen jokes softly, jostling Grace with her shoulder. “He’s probably hassling some General to get him back here to you.”

Grace takes a minute to just sit there, shoulder to shoulder with a woman who has become one of her dearest friends, their hands tightly clasped together.

“I hope you’re right.” Grace says finally. “Thank you, Helen.”

The two women sit there together for a long time, minds filled with the men they’ve watched come and go, ones they laughed with and loved, and ones they didn’t even get a chance to know. This is the hardest work either of them have ever done, but it’s made easier knowing they’ll be there to rescue each other every time, no matter what.

#my own feelings got the best of me here merc #i loved writing for helen #i wanted to know so much more about her #thank you for asking about grace! #softspeirs mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #oc: grace fleming

[heranubis]

dullahans first serious cod fic? more likely than you think. originally started this after a bad night of missing my brother and decided to cope writing price. turns out i don't hate this so i decided to polish it up and post it.

major trigger warnings for: referenced sibling death (non graphic but relevant to fic), vaguely accurate angels

UNTIL THE AIR GOES QUIET: archangel john price r/insert (non descriptive) - 1.4k word count

Ever since you were a child, you would talk to angels. Your grandmother would say you had a gift, speaking to God’s children. But that’s not how you saw it. This was a curse. You see them beyond their vessels, not just people but with the changing heads of animals with too many tongues and too sharp teeth. They always smile at you but it feels more a threat than anything gentle or kind. The angels scare you – they know that, yet still they remain. It only gets worse when you lose your brother.

They wear his face sometimes. His red hair and brown eyes. You sit down with your dead brother for dinner again. It’s the last dream you ever want to have. And there’s a new angel – one who smells of blood and iron and his face weathered. He visits you the most often, says his name is John – privately, you call him Judas. He sits with you and your brother, his wings folded against his back, looking deceptively small as he simply sits and observes. He makes you uncomfortable with how much he sees and little he says, but he is always there. John is your new constant, even when the dreams with your brother stop. John is your only constant now; the others seem afraid of him – and part of you can’t help but wonder why.

You don’t dream anymore, but he keeps guard. No nightmare dares get close when John stands guard over your bed with his wings bound tight and arms folded over his chest. He stands tall and proud, every bit of the soldier he was created to be. “They won’t hurt you,” he says, his voice is scratchy, like he hasn’t had to use it in a long time. “I won’t let them close. Sleep as long as you need to.” And you do – for several days and as many nights, you sleep undisturbed. John never removes from his position of guard.

    -

    Something has changed with this angel – when you look at him you no longer see the heads of bears, wolves, and boars; you simply see a man. His eyes are tired and blue and he smiles so gently at you, as if anything sharper and you will break. He looks at you like he cares, like he wants good and gentle things for you. One day, you work up the bravery to ask why. “Grief is love with no place to go” he says and there is a sadness, a sense of knowing in his eyes. “As you are, once I was” are the last words your angel speaks.

His vow of silence lasts many years – he remains in your shadow, but he does not speak again. He kneels with you, when you pray for your brother, but his lips do not move nor does he fold his hands or close his eyes. There is an anger there, something that bubbles beneath the surface, waiting for eruption. The other angels speak to you again – tell you of John’s punishment. You pray for his absolution – for his sins to be forgiven and his tongue freed of its burden. Not for the first time, your prayers go unanswered.

You don’t believe in god anymore – you like to believe she loved you, once upon a time. What is a mother's love if not giving away her most faithful son and sending him to guard the sheep who has lost its flock. What mother is more worshipped than the one who carves the staff that keeps wolves at bay. What mother turns her back on the creations she crafted with such tenderness that you have both a heart to break and ribs to crack. God tells you he is forgiven – and then she splits you open.

The angels say they love you, but they look upon you with eyes of scorn and judgement. Your back has never born wings, yet the scars remain between your shoulder blades. You have taken John’s punishment as your own, and he speaks to you when not another soul is around to hear. “Never tell anyone,” he whispers in the dead of night – his lips to your ear and all you can feel is how his beard scratches against your skin, how rough and soothing it is. “Try and remember that. Never tell anyone anything, ever again.”

You take his words to your very soul – you will never tell anyone of the way your angel looks at you. You do not repeat his secrets – they are yours now, and they will die with you. He tells you one night, as he holds you close to his chest. “Look hard at my wings. There will be no more after me.” And you do – you memorize every feather even as they bleed and meld with his skin and muscle. That is truly the final night you dream, and it is the one that scares you most.

You see god’s face – except there is no face. She is everything and nothing, beautiful and horrible and god. “Your life was never meant to be punishment,” she tells you. “Those are not your scars to carry, sweet one.” You cannot see her eyes, but you can feel as they stare deeply into you, everything you have been or will be. “You are hiding” she says, the silence from before long and heavy and gone. “Why”

“To hide the fact that it’s me.” you finally say – and your voice is not fully your own. John is there, in your shadow, as he always is. You can feel his stare on you, feel his wings as they wrap around you like a shield from her gaze. “To make up for the fact I want to run away, but instead I sit very still. Because I’m afraid.” His wings are hiding you completely now, his face cradled in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped tightly around you, as if afraid you’ll disappear the second he lets go. Your next words are to the man behind you – and you know he knows. “I love you, I don’t know if you like me. I want you to.”

“My child – your angel loves you. He has loved you in every life, and it is his purpose of creation to find you, to covet and adore – but he cannot keep you. Your angel loves you. Let your heart be uncomfortable with that until you find healing.”

That night is the last time you hear god speak – it is the first time your eyes open to John wrapped around you. His wings are curled around you like a shell, a barrier from the outside world. He loves you – that is his punishment. You want to be yourself again, you want to stop knowing everything that you know. He opens those hauntingly blue eyes, and you only see the face of a man. “We are made to serve,” he whispers. His voice is as gentle as his touch as he buries his face (his shame) between the scars on your back. “I hope you want more for us, too.”

  -

  You don’t hear the angels anymore. You were merciful, and now all will know of you – that's what John says to fill the silence. Your kindness does not save you from the sin of loving that which is forbidden, but it earns you sympathy, affection. He tells you of the whispers, things that will never reach your ears. You are young and learning how to live, so they will watch over you just as John has.

They will keep you safe, they will love you as one of their own. But mainly they say it’s ok that you loved John. He is big and old and scarred, they said he would be loved. They say it cannot be a mistake to have loved, it cannot be an error to have tried. it cannot be incorrect to have tried.

There is only one more thing they say before all is silent except for John’s snores beside you – he loves you. Your brother, who has seen your angel in the dreams and given him his blessing. Your brother, who knows he leaves you in good and gentle hands. Your brother, who knows your angel who has forsaken his wings to live with you in this life. Your brother, who has denied this love it’s inevitable tragedy.

There is no one left to love you, so John will love you.

#heranubis #call of duty #john price x reader #if this doesnt make sense im sorry LOL #it kinda ran away from me halfway through #modern warefare 2

[hlizr50]

Fic prompts you say?????????

#12 for Gwynthan please.

I know you are skeptical, but this is my chance to convince you!

My OTP.

I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t deny that these two would be disgustingly adorable and supportive of each other.

Word Count: 750

Pairing: Gwyneth Berdara/Ithan Holstrom

Prompt: “H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.” (I adjusted it a tiny tiny bit based on what I’d written.)

~~~

She ran a thumb over the cerulean stone, her reflection distorted over the smooth surface. While her evenings had become more restful over the years, the training ring was still her solace. It was a place where she’d grown strong, in body and mind and soul, empowered by the people who had become her family.

The Valkyries had outgrown the training ring at the House, though they still used it for any priestesses who still dared not venture out into the world. Which was why Gwyn could sit with her legs dangling over the railing, enjoying the peace and quiet of the winter afternoon.

Perhaps she wasn’t enjoying it, exactly. Perhaps she was more… hiding.

Another year.

The invoking stone was a lead weight in her palm, and she dropped her hands into her lap under its burden. Gwyn had never worn it as a priestess, though she couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go. Cat would have been an incredible priestess; devoted and compassionate and gentle. The redhead knew, now, that it had never been her destiny to remain hidden in the pale blue robes of the Mother. It had never been her call to remain huddled and hushed in the library.

Gwyn’s purpose was to be strong. To empower others who had been wounded to do the same. It had taken a long time, but she was finally proud of who she was, the warrior she had become.

But that didn’t make days like these any easier.

“Happy birthday, Cat,” she whispered into the winter chill, eyelashes fluttering to cool the burning in her eyes. Would it still hurt this much a decade from now? A century? Gods, she hoped not.

“I think you’d be proud of me,” she continued. Sometimes it was nice to talk to her like she was right there. “I try to help people who don’t know how to fight back. I’d like to think that—“ she sniffled, losing the battle against her pooling tears “—that I’m making sure that what happened to us doesn’t happen to anyone else. I just wish… I just wish it wasn’t too late to save you.”

The breeze was frigid against the dampness on her cheeks, and seeped through her leggings as if they were made of nothing more than lace. But she barely noticed, falling into the chasm that still remained in the wake of her twin’s death. Her head dropped, suddenly to heavy, and her drooping shoulders shook with the force of her grief.

Still.

“I’m so sorry, Cat,” she whimpered between ragged breaths. “I love you. I miss you so much. Nothing is the same without you.”

Suddenly she was wrapped in an embrace, two warm, strong arms banding around her and pulling her into the warmth of a broad chest. Then there was a kiss to her cheek, capturing one of her many falling tears.

“You do help people. Every day. It’s incredible to witness.” The gentleness of the voice made her slump in the comforting arms of the man who had become so dear to her. Ithan Holstrom was always so forthcoming with his feelings, unafraid to be vulnerable and honest if it meant earning Gwyn’s trust. She couldn’t thank the Mother enough for connecting their worlds, though the resulting conflict had been horrifying and bloody.

“H-how long have you been listening?”

Ithan sighed at her back, his exhale pulling her further into him. She didn’t want him to let go, and it seemed like the feeling was blessedly mutual.

“Long enough,” he whispered, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “Your sister would be immensely proud of you. Just like I am. In fact, from what you’ve told me, the only thing that would upset her is the fact that you still hurt so much, and you exile yourself to a secluded roof to try to handle it alone.”

Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut, a desperate attempt to halt the fresh wave of tears from his heartfelt words.

Ithan released her from his grasp, but only long enough to step to her side and tilt her chin up toward him. His kiss was so warm and tender, protecting her from the winter chill.

“You’ll catch your death out here, Freckles,” he murmured. “Come inside. We’ll cuddle in front of the fire and I’ll tell you more about Connor.”

Connor. The brother he’d lost. His own nightmarish night, a world away.

Just another reason Ithan understood her better than anyone else.

#fanfic prompts #Drabble prompts #gwynthan #Gwyneth Berdara #Ithan Holstrom #acotar #crescent city #gwyn x Ithan #ithan x gwyn #fanfic asks #asks #asks are open #fanfiction #Gwyneth berdara x ithan holstrom #ithan holstrom x gwyneth berdara

[levbolton]

Blue Period Chapter 64

Scans and Rough Translation

Disclaimer: I DO NOT consent to using this translation for scanlation! I am not fluent in Japanese, I use Google Lens and Deepl/Google Translate to translate this, so sometimes stuff can be faulty or unclear. Besides, Impromptu Scanlations do their best with their scanlations. There's a simulpub, but kodansha decided they should keep it to US only and most of us do not live in US (and those that do don't share the translation bruh)

I am translating it this way because no one keeps up with the story and it feels lonely to be the only one reading it. You can obviously take bits form here to discuss, but do not use it for scanlation without my consent. If I see any I will immediately stop translating and you’ll get back to square 1

Scans are here

Translation 64

P1 : Title

You, send.

The blue continues. (Great start I don’t really know what it is supposed to mean)

君を、送る。

青は続く。

Art reference: Un enterrement à Ornans by Gustave Courbet

P2

Kanie: I'm here to collect all of Machiko Sanada's pieces.

Murai: Ha? What?

Murai: I didn't hear anything about that.

Murai: What? What? has the Kanie Gallery finally started doing things this way?

Kanie: ?

P3

Kanie: Listen... are you available?

Kanie: Well, you seem angry, don't you?

Kanie: You know...

Card: Machiko Sanada exhibition. ~ The genius girl painter who became a real deal/an angel.

Kanie: You can come, but don't get violent.

Kanie: Of course, I've already got permission from all the relatives.

Kanie: No wonder you don't know.

P4

Kanie: You're just friends, aren't you?

Hachiro: When did you decide?

Hachiro: When I talked to Sanada-san's mother last week...

Kanie: Let's see, the day before yesterday, or the day before that?

Kanie: Three years ago... The exhibition she was planning on doing before she died went bye-bye. I was about to give up on it, but...

Kanie: But then Machiko's paintings became a hot topic on SNS.

Phone screen: The artist died when she was 18. God takes geniuses with him.

Sound effect: I see.

P5

“Machiko's paintings...”

"They love her so much..."

Murai: ... What? SNS...

But her mother...

“She wouldn't want it to be like this”

“She wants you to be with someone who cares about you.”

(she probably meant she wanted people to care when she was alive)

P6

Yakumo: You're a miser!

Hachiro: Yakumo!

Yakumo: All he cares about is making money!

Yakumo: Are you happy that Sanada's dead and the sale price went up? Yeah?

Yakumo: Fucking hijacker!

P7

Kanie: After ten years, most of the paintings are worth two or three thousand dollars.

Kanie: Idiot.

Kanie: You guys must think you're doing something great, don't you?

Kanie: When you die, you get a fixed number of works for the rest of your life, so the relative value of your work goes up.

P8

Kanie: There are only a handful of artists like that.

Kanie: In fact, they almost always go down.

Kanie: There are artists who get recognition after they're dead.

Kanie: But there are artists who were very successful during their lifetime, have their prices dropping.

Kanie: Artistic value is determined over a period of 50 years.

Kanie: But 50 years...

Kanie: In other words, it's difficult to find a place that will value your work for 50 years.

Kanie: It takes a lot of space and money to store a painting.

Kanie: Even if it's a good painting for the person who buys it, it doesn't mean that the family who inherits it will share its value.

Words: Trend, Humidity, Sunlight, Location

P9

Kanie: incidentally

Kanie: Machiko Sanada's paintings didn't change in price between her life and death.

Guy in the background: President.

Kanie: It's okay, I've got the permit.

Kanie: Our job is to make the work worth the most and deliver it to the people who cherish it.

 Yakumo.

Kanie: Put your feelings aside.

Kanie: Are you going to turn mellow wine into vinegar?

P10

Yakumo: …

Kanie: good grief

Kanie: Galleries don't bring in any money.

Kanie: Fucking kids.

Momo: We’ll be late

Shall we go?

P11

Hachiro: ... Yes ... Yes ...

Hachiro: No, what mother decides is best.

Sound: Bleep.

P12

Yakumo: Maybe if we were a family (as in married I think?)

Yakumo: I'd have the right to tell him.

Momo: But we're friends.

Yakumo: But... But...

Box1: We're friends.

Box2: I feel so powerless.

P13

Hachiro: I see... Sales...

Hachiro: Yakumo will miss her paintings.

Hachiro: ...but I wonder if it will force him to get back on her feet.

Hachiro: Yakumo didn't even come to Machiko's funeral.

Yotasuke: What?

Hachiro: When someone you love dies, it means that one part of your daily routines disappears...

We're here.

Register: Those who have applied to the AOJ, please fill in this form and proceed.

P14

Yatora: Surprisingly ordinary warehouse...

Hachiro: There are no regulations on the size of the works, so this is probably all that's needed.

Yatora: Wow...

Yatora: I'm getting nervous now.

Hachiro: What's going on now?

Yatora: I've seen other works and I start to feel it...

P15

Yatora: So this is where I'm being delivered.

Yatora: Come to think of it, Hacchan seems to have finished early.

Yatora: What kind of...

Yatora: !

Yatora: An abstract painting? It looks like he put a brush on a cleaning robot and moved it...

But I don't have the image of Hacchan as a painter, so maybe the cleaning robot did it for real...

…!

Yatora: Yakumo-san...

P16-17 double spread

P18

Yatora: That…

Yatora: I knew right away.

P19

Yatora: It is a floral service.

Secretary:  Okay, we'll be judging in a week's time.

Secretary: We'll be streaming it on TUBE, so please do watch it, and we'll be in touch with the winners shortly afterwards.

P20

Hachiro: Uh-oh.

Hachiro: Mr. Kanie cleaned up the whole place...

Yotasuke: He left something...

Momo: It's a postcard for Machiko's exhibition! They're having a reception party.

Yatora: What's that?

Momo: A party for the people involved in the exhibition, right?

Momo-yota-yatora: The date is... One week later!

Hachiro: Mr. Kanie's been preparing for this for a long time.

P21

Hachiro: Well, I'm not keen on it, but I might just turn up.

Momo: It's been four long years. ~~~~~~

Yotasuke: Yaguchi-san?

Yatora: What?

Yatora: Oh...

Yakumo: Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!

Yakumo: Don't look at me. Go do whatever you want.

Yakumo: I'm watching the AOJ's trial feed.

Yakumo: They don't even know what the work is about. It's just a shitty exhibition.

P22

Hachiro: Well, Yakumo's right... Machiko's work is different from the type of artists Kanie Gallery usually deals with.

Hachiro: Maybe the Kanie’ customers won't be interested...

Sign: Kanie Gallery

P23

Yatora: Are there more galleries in Hiroshima?

Hachiro: Oh, no?

Women: I'm from Wakayama, I saw it on social media and thought it was a really nice painting...

Hachiro: I see.

Momo: I saw it on a social media and thought it was a very good picture.

Yakumo(‘s phone): This year's AOJ has started slowly, hasn't it?

Receptionist: Yaguchi Yatora-sama, isn't it?

Receptionist: Please have a drink from over there.

P24

Momo’s dad: Are you sure you didn't want to go with the others?

Momo’s dad: It was Machiko's big day.

Yakumo: You wouldn't want me to get into trouble, would you, kakinokizaka-san?

Momo’s dad: That would be a problem.

Momo’s dad: When he came to collect the paintings the other day, I got a call from Mr. Kanie. but I wondered if he'd already told you guys.

Momo’s dad: Now, this is Kenji Hachiro's work... (I think he rather meant responsibility???)

・・・・・・

P25

Momo’s dad: Hey, Yakumo-kun.

Momo’s dad: A lot has happened since Machiko passed away, hasn't it?

Yakumo: I never thought the three of us would pass the exam together.

Momo’s dad: Me too. I mean, no one thought so.

Yakumo: What's the matter? Are you trying to cheer me up?

Momo’s dad: Yakumo-kun, getting over something isn't a bad thing.

P26

Yakumo: You don't seem to understand, do you?

Momo’s dad: Funerals.

Momo’s dad: Maybe it's the ego of the living, but it's precisely because we humans can share something invisible that we can all interpret death together, accept it or let it go.

P27

Yakumo: In other words?

Momo’s dad: I mean, you know, I was thinking about moving on away.

Yakumo: ...? A postcard?

Postcard: Murai, I'll be waiting.  Sanada Machiko Solo Exhibition

Bubble: A postcard from the exhibition three years ago, which did not take place, addressed to you.

P28-29 double spread

Bubble: I think she wanted you to come and see it.

P30

Box: Amazing...

P31

Box: Egoistic.

Box: A strong picture that leaves no room for others.

Box: It's much stronger than the one I saw in the warehouse.

? - There you go.

P32

Kanie: So Yakumo didn't come after all?

Kanie: How's it going? It's a nice painting, isn't it? Sold out on the first day.

Kanie: Machiko Sanada's paintings only look good in the exhibition space.

Kanie: I understood the meaning of her persistence in the exhibition through this exhibition.

Yatora: I see…

Box: But for all that...

P33

Women: How could someone who paints such good pictures...

Women: She was... She was young, wasn't she?

Women: God is... really...

Dude: Hey!

Dude: Have you been on social networking sites too?

Dude: Sanada and I went to middle school together!

Dude: Sanada was a weird kid, but she was always really good at drawing...

Dude: Here's my graduation album from junior high school...

? - Hey...

P34

Yakumo: I know who you are, too.

Dude: Uh... friend of mine? You're a friend of mine?

Yatora: Mr Yakumo! You came?

Yakumo: Wow, so many people.

Yatora: Sanada-san's painting is amazing.

Yakumo: Hmm...

Yatora: What's going on?

Bubble: It's even better than when I saw it in the warehouse...

P35

Yakumo: It's a terrible exhibition. ~~~~~

Yatora: It's...

Hachiro: Yakumo ....?

Yatora: This is bad! It's a bad sign!

Yakumo: That woman...

P36

Yakumo: She just liked to draw, and it just happened that she drew good pictures.

Yakumo: Only to die at 18.

Yakumo: So what's this, "a genius girl painter who became an angel/real deal"?

Bubble: Who the hell is that?

P37

Kanie: So Yakumo's here...

Kanie: You can go home.

Hachiro: Yakumo.

Hachiro: Let's not... at Machiko's exhibition...

Yakumo: No, no, no, you can't stand it either, can you, Hacchan?

Yakumo: As soon as she died, they dramatized it.

Yakumo: Her drawings are eloquent, but she was just a quiet person.

Yakumo: I wonder why it's selling so well after all this time.

Yakumo: That's funny.

P38

Yakumo: If you pity her so much, buy her when she's alive!

Yakumo: Then maybe she'd be more...

Yakumo: Whaaaatttt?

Yakumo: Don't touch.../leave me alone

Kanie: You're ruining the mood.

Kanie: Go home.

P39

Talking: Call the police. ....?

Talking: What to do...

Hachiro: Let's go home. Let's go home.

Momo: Hacchan…

Hachiro: We're sorry for the trouble we caused you.

Hachiro: I will tell him to be more careful (something like this)

?- That’s unnecessary…

?- Hachiro-san...

P40

Machiko’s mom: Machiko must have made some good friends.

Bubble: Yes, she did.

P41

ha ha ha (laughing loudly)

Momo: Look! Look at this!

Phone: There was a man who was verbally abusing Machiko Sanada at her exhibition, it was terrible. Arrest him!

Hachiro: Yakumo. He's getting shit on social networking sites.

Yakumo: Hey, stop Ego-surfing!

Yatora: Ah, that middle school classmate...

P42

Momo: I can understand how Yakumo feels! I knew a lot of people who'd never even heard of Machiko.

Hacchan: Even the caption was, "What? Who?" It's a bit overdramatic.

Yakumo: Then, why don't you say so on the spot?

Momo: I'm an adult.

Hachiro: I'm an adult.

Bubble: If I were you, I'd retaliate in a way that wouldn't be noticed.

Yakumo: Oh, shit.

P43

Yakumo: No more paintings by that artist...

Yakumo: I've been drawing ~~~~ for a long, long time...

Yakumo: Every time I draw, every time I aim for something, I can't help thinking of her...

Yakumo: But it was fine...

P44

Yakumo: I've only known her for a few months.

Yakumo: That's fucked up.

Yakumo: I'd rather let my feelings die than be with her.

Yatora: What can you do with a person who draws like that?

Yatora: I’d think they’re too cool.

Yakumo: Ah?!

Yakumo: I think so too!

Yakumo: Right! She's so cool!

P45

Yakumo Oh, well, I'll just watch the rest of the AOJ feed.

Hachiro: Don't drink!

Hachiro: Thank goodness... Yakumo seems to be on the road to recovery.

Yotasuke: Hey...

Yotasuke: Why does he have to get back on his feet?

Yotasuke: .... What? What's wrong with Murai-san?

P46

Yotasuke: It's okay to live with that grief for the rest of your life.

P47

Yakumo: ... What?

Yakumo: I see.

Bubble: I can carry this sadness with me for the rest of my life.

Brush: Sanada

The wounds don't need to heal.

I will not forget you.

End of 64th stroke.

Next time: the results of the AOJ!

24th August 2023

#blue period #yaguchi yatora #murai yakumo #yotasuke takahashi #hachiro kenji #momoyo kakinokizaka #text post #blp vol 15 #blp translation

[samgirl98]

Cain and Abel Wept 20/?

Prev | Next

MENTIONS OF SCARS, KILLING, AND TORTURE

Hello everyone, please pardon me if the action scenes aren't too good. I'm not too good at writing action, but hopefully, the angst you'll get in this chapter will make up for my lacking skills.

Bruce entered the room and almost threw up.

Jason’s chest was cracked open. Bruce could see his son’s ribs and beating heartbeat. Clark stopped by him.

“My god,” he breathed out in horror.

Bruce threw a Batarang at the man with a green scalpel over his son’s heart.

“Aww,” the man yelled; his blood dripped into Jason’s chest. Bruce didn’t think; he tackled the man. No part of that man should be allowed anywhere near his son.

Bruce punched the man, tears leaking out. How dare he? How dare this monster hurt his son!

“Batman, leave him. We have to save Jason.”

Clark’s voice broke through Bruce. Jason came first. Bruce got up and left the unconscious man on the floor. Bruce looked at Jason’s open chest with trepidation. Where would he even begin with this?

Jason’s eyes opened slightly.

“Da, that you?”

“It’s me, Jay-lad. I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry. Superman is here; he can take you to a hospital.”

Clark gave Bruce a helpless look; Bruce glared at the man. He was about to look for something to cover Jason with when he felt a pull.

“Wait, da—dad, don’t leave, please.”

“Okay, Jason, I’m here, son. Clark, can you look for something to cover Jason with? He’s shivering.”

“Dad, I’m dyin—dying again.”

“No, no you’re not! Clark, help me.”

He didn’t notice the use of civilian names.

“Bruce, if I move him,” Clark shook his head, “The speed it would take me to take him to the hospital would kill him.”

“Then bring a doctor here,” Bruce yelled, desperate. Why hadn’t he thought of bringing a doctor with him?

“Dad, please, just stay—stay with me as I g—go,” Jason coughed out a blood clot, “I don’t want to die a—alone this time. Please.”

“Jay-lad, my son, I’m so sorry. I—I love you so much. Don’t go.”

Bruce watched as Jason stilled. His heart stopped beating, and his lungs ceased. Bruce yelled out in grief.

Talia came in time to watch her eldest’s give his final breath and see a man running away. She could do nothing for her eldest anymore except get vengeance for his death. While her beloved cradled Jason’s body, Talia al Ghul went after the man who killed him. She would not let Jason’s killer get away; that was something only her foolish beloved would do.

____

Danny felt as the ghost shields fell. He looked toward his younger brother and nodded. For the first time in years, both al Ghul brothers fought side by side.

(Danny ignored the feeling of steel going through his chest while his brother’s sword sang through the air. Damian probably wouldn’t betray him again.)

Danny and Damian fought as one while more and more agents poured into the hallways.

(Danny heard parts of the facility falling as the Justice League destroyed it.)

Danny hit high. He used his powers and abilities to fight in the air while Damian stayed low on the ground. Damian would relieve the agents of their weapons and tie them up with zip ties and cuffs shaped like bats.

If Danny hit the agents a bit too hard, well, no one was there to stop him. It’s not as if he killed them.

Along the way, Danny would plant devices Tucker gave him so that he could remotely copy and destroy any data the GIW had.

Eventually, Danny and Damian got to where the ghosts were being held. That’s when things got worse. Danny saw scattered, broken cores on the floor. The agents were in the process of destroying any ghost under their possession.

Danny saw green.

How dare they harm and destroy his people? He was their king, and the dead would get their vengeance.  Danny felt his body shift and contort until he got lost in it.

Damian saw different glowing creatures (ghosts) whimpering and begging for help. Their hands reached toward his brother. Damian didn’t know what happened. One minute, Danny was in his ‘ghost’ form. The next was a being made of pure night sky (even the stars shone in the figure.) An ice-cold circlet was around his head. A ring that scared Damian every time he tried to look at it adorned his brother’s finger. Danny’s limbs were elongated, he had too many rows of fangs, and his eyes had galaxies exploding in them instead of pupils and sclera.

The air around them turned cold.

As scared as Damian was beholding his older brother’s awesome form, the agents were paralyzed.

(What they saw was a thousand times more terrifying than what Damian did.)

The air around them was cold; Damian could see his breath but didn’t freeze.

(The agents were frozen but still breathing, their eyes large with fear.)

Just as Damian thought he would go insane from staring at his brother for so long, he felt someone turn him around. He saw Jasmine in a suit, then she put her hand over his eyes.

“Don’t look; you’re not liminal enough. If you keep staring, you might lose your mind. We wouldn’t want Danny to feel guilty, now, would we?”

Damian shook his head.

Damian heard horrified screams and a terrifying screeching. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard being amplified. Damian thought his ears would start bleeding from the sound when it, thankfully, stopped.

Damian turned around and found the agents' faces in petrified fear. Their terror would forever be etched on their faces, doomed to never wake up from the living nightmare the King of Ghosts put them in.

(Death would’ve been too merciful for them. Besides, Danny wanted to avoid having them in his kingdom too soon.)

“Help me let them go from their cages?”

 Damian, Danny, and Jasmine worked quickly but quietly as the grateful ghosts left the facility. A few stayed to wreak havoc.

Danny gave them his blessing, “Give them hell, guys.”

The ghost of a little girl turned around and hugged Danny.

“Thank you, my king.”

Danny put one of the devices Tucker had given him into the computer in the room and then left with his siblings.

Elsewhere, Maddie and Jack Fenton were fighting Agent Alpha. They had found her trying to escape.

While Jack used his body to block her exit, Maddie used her fighting skills to subdue the scum before her.

Unfortunately, Agent Alpha was no slouch with her hand-to-hand combat. Maddie got punched in the solar plexus while she gave the agent a good kick in the guts. Maddie coughed while trying to defend herself.

Jack, bless him, tried to get his arms around the agent, but she was faster than Maddie’s husband. Maddie dodged a punch that would’ve hit her nose and got low to give the woman a sweeping kick. It worked for half a second before Agent Alpha took out an ectogun and shot Maddie in the chest.

She was liminal enough that the shot could stop her for a moment. The agent used that time to slap Maddie’s face against the wall.

“You’re as much a freak as them, aren’t you? You Fentons should be exterminated like the scum you are.”

“Maddie,” Jack yelled while taking out the Jack o’ Nine Tail to stop her from causing Maddie brain damage. Thankfully, he had been practicing with it, and it hit the mark. Agent Alpha was wrapped with tendrils and yelling obscenities.

“Shut up,” Maddie said while hitting the woman on the head, knocking her unconscious.

“She talked too much,” Maddie commented before tying her more securely. Thankfully, one of the Green Lanterns had followed the sounds of fighting and took Agent Alpha with them.

Maddie and Jack looked for their children, occasionally taking down a stray agent or two. They saw that fewer and fewer agents attacked them, and more were on the floor, knocked out cold. They smiled when they noticed a few hits that could’ve only come from the Boo-staff. Their little princess was quite the warrior when she wanted to be.

Eventually, they ran into Danny, Jazz, and Damian. Danny was frowning.

“C’mon, I don’t think Jason has long left so that we can save him.”

Maddie nodded and followed her son. She was the closest thing they had to a medical doctor. As they ran down the hall, they heard the scream of a grieving parent.

____

McConnell ran. He could’ve sworn shadows were following him, but nothing ever attacked.

He was almost to an exit when a woman wearing dark clothing jumped before him. She drew a knife with a green handle.

“You killed my son,” she said calmly, “Now I kill you.”

“Wait, wait, I didn’t kill your son! I swear.”

“My son’s dead body is still warm on your table, my beloved is grieving our child’s death, and you dare deny it?”

“No, wait, I was under orders,” he tried to explain.

“Your voice annoys me.”

Talia attacked the man and was able to cut out his tongue. The man screamed as blood came out of his mouth. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

“You killed my eldest,” Talia slashed the man’s eyes, “you tortured him, humiliated him, and dared try to explain yourself? It doesn’t matter who ordered it; you were the one who stopped his heart.”

Though McConnell couldn’t see it, Talia wept while she tortured the man. Even without a tongue, the man tried to beg for mercy.

“My son begged, too, didn’t he? But I know men like you! Men with sick fantasies of torturing and destroying can’t take it when someone does it to them. My child is dead because of you! My beloved screams are echoing these halls, and yet you beg. No more.”

Talia plunged the knife deep into the man’s heart and watched with grim satisfaction as he choked on his own blood.

As McConnell took his last breath, Talia said, “You’ve been avenged, habibi.\

____

Bruce felt cold and lifeless (Jason’s lifeless body was in his arms.) as the Fentons came in.

Bruce vaguely heard Damian’s choked ‘no.’ His youngest’s voice was full of horror.

“Nightwing, Red Robin, I need you! Father needs you. Jason, he is,” Bruce knew he should be comforting his youngest, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Jason. In the back of his mind, Bruce saw Danny approaching them.

“Batman, I need to see him. I need you to let him go,” Bruce ignored Danny. He couldn’t let go of Jason. Maybe if he held him, he could put his son back together. Maybe he would come back.

Bruce heard whispers around him and then felt a pair of strong arms pulling him away from his child.

“NO, damn you, NO!”

Superman took him away from his son.

“Damn you, Clark, let me go!”

“Bruce, Danny can help,” Clark whispered in his ears.

That penetrated his grieving mind. He watched as Danny filled a bag full of ectoplasm and hooked it up to Jason’s arms. Maddie was stitching Jason up, and Jack pulled a devastated-looking Nightwing in.

“Nightwing, we need you to shock Jason with the highest voltage your escrima sticks can go,” Jack Fenton said.

“What,” Nightwing asked, uncomprehending. His baby brother was dead. Again.

“Trust me, Nightwing, Jason will come back. Do it,” Danny said with such authority that Dick couldn’t help but follow his orders.

Bruce watched as Dick shocked his brother. He wasn’t a praying man, but at the moment, he was begging whatever entity that was listening for this to work. Let there be another miracle; let his son come back.

Please, I’ll do it right this time.

“Again,” Jason’s body jumped at the shock. He still didn’t move.

“Again,” Danny ordered.

“Please, I can’t,” Dick said.

“Trust me. Again.”

The last bit of ectoplasm entered Jason’s bloodstream, and just as it did, Dick shocked him once more.

Jason woke up screaming and with glowing green eyes.

A red ring started from his waists and traveled up and down his body, splitting in two. Jason’s hair had turned white with black streaks. His wounds bled green, and he was paler. Suddenly, he returned to his regular self, the Y-incision no longer bleeding and looking years old.

His son was no longer fully human, but he was alive.

As soon as Jason’s screams echoed through the halls again, Talia walked in.

“Habibi,” she said after Jason stopped screaming, “you have been avenged.”

Jason passed out.  

Well, here it was. I only have two or three chapters after this, maybe an epilogue. I would appreciate any comments on how this chapter went. I'm hoping it came out well.

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @luer-mirin @mur-ururu @insufferablecrab @skulld3mort-1fan @meira-3919 @aethernorwood @mimilikey @marshmelloe @latheevening226 @ahyesanerd @lexdamo @chrysanthemum9484 @spooky-fm @gmkelz11 @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @supershot73199 @starscreamlover @booberrylizard @pastalavistamf

#Cain and Abel Wept #DC X DP #DP x DC #tw: torture #tw: blood #tw: killing #tw: character death #tw: scars

[isabelldrabbles]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

warnings: injury, mentions of blood and guns

A/N: wrote this over a year ago, but wanted to post something. Don‘t know where this is going lol.

---

You passed the security guards of the building complex, stood in the queue for the coffee machine and spinned with the coins in your hands. It has been a hard day, night, even week. Something was off. Your workplace was hiding something… and you noticed it. Since this Avenger had a town under her spell, everyone here was going crazy. Hayward had no control over his soldiers anymore, Captain Monica Rambeau was inciting a riot, and you were in the midst of it.

Darcy Lewis' face lit up when she saw you and soon, she happily came towards you. The people in the row behind you grunted in annoyance as she overtook them in the row next to the device. 

‘Oh my, please, she’s a doctor. The disrespect of some people.’ You joked and let her hug you. After all, you were glad you had someone in this place that brought some joy with them.

‘Where the hell have you hid, agent? I have missed you!’ Darcy lightly pushed you in your shoulder, but you just put your hands in the pockets of your SWORD - sweater and shook your head. 

‘I was working.’ The waiting line moved and you stepped forward. ‘Something you apparently don’t have much to-’

‘Oh my god (Y/N)! The audacity!’ You laughed at the response of the brunette and looked at her. ‘Who was the one that discovered the broadcast signals of WandaVision?!” She looked expectantly at you, but you bit your cheek amused and provoked her with not giving an answer. ‘Me. It was me. The great Doctor Darcy Lewis!”

‘Right Lewis, now go and get a coffee, people are waiting.’ Some random guy huffed from behind you.

She hastily stepped forward, pressed the button of her desired order and turned to you once again. With a wink she threw in the coins to pay. 

‘Oh god Darcy, don’t even get me started on that witch’s case. Creating a fake scenario to live with the love of her life? What is she? A depressed teenager?’ Darcy turned offended and slapped your arm, now without kidding. ‘Ouch! What the hell??’

Your friend grabbed her coffee, stepped to the side and you repeated her prior actions for your own order. 

‘(Y/N)! You have no idea how much that girl went through-’

‘Parents dead. Brother dead. Robot boyfriend dead. Fellow Avengers dead. Now once again imaginary boyfriend and also kids dead. I get it, she has been through a lot, but there are people out there called psycho therapists, they are qualified for such people. I can recommend my mom’s one.’ The machine finished and you walked back to your office, both a coffee mug in your hands. 

‘Do you hear how stupid what you are saying sounds?! Wanda Maximoff is..a wonder! An Avenger who can harness chaos magic, engage in telepathy as well as telekinesis and alter reality. She has so much power! She is the most powerful Avenger!’ Darcy burst with excitement as you let yourself fall back in your office chair and sighed.

‘Look Darcy, I get it. You are a fangirl… but she kidnapped an entire city! How can you defend that?! She hurt civilian citizens. Twice now if you remember Lagos! She is dangerous.’ You furrowed your eyebrows and took a sip of your coffee.

Darcy shook her head enthusiastically. ‘No! Just no (Y/N)! Hayward, that bastard, he is the reason! She just wanted a funeral for her love and he used his body to recreate a new robot for SWORD-’ 

You choked on your drink at her words and spilled some of it on your desk. With widened eyes you tilted your head and looked at her. ‘He did what?? That son of a bitch. That’s why everyone is acting so differently here.’ You pulled out a tissue of one of the desk drawers and wiped your desk while chewing your lip in thought. ‘Okay, I take that back. Maybe she had reasons to… grief in her own way. But that still doesn’t explain capturing a whole city!’ 

Darcy emptied her cup and walked to the exit of your office. ‘All I’m saying is that she’s not the only bad guy here. Think about that!’ She shrugged and left you alone. 

‘A pleasure as always, Doctor Lewis.’ You sighed to yourself and threw your mugs in the bin. After finishing your short break you returned to give your attention to the mission files that had to be completed.

Great. You were working for an emotionless asshole.

---

‘You are a horrible influence, Lewis.’ 

You snapped at your colleague while jumping into some kind of cover. ‘I just should have let you be a fangirl and never should have asked questions.’ You mumbled upset. Rummaging in the side pockets of your trousers, you searched for your pistol and as soon as you touched it, sighed in relief.

‘Well, to my defence, Monica is the one that got us here. I’m just the thinker, she brings the action.’ Darcy chuckled and you stared incredulously at her.

‘Are you kidding me?! We are getting attacked for snooping around to look for signs of Vision’s dead body, probably will be on the run after that and you laugh?’ You shouted at the woman next to you and threw a small can of pepper spray to her which she easily caught. 

‘Get the hell out of here and we will talk about the consequences later in the plane.’ The voice of the Captain became audible in your ear piece as you took down two guards.

‘In the plane? We will have to leave? I was joking!’ You hissed nervously as you fought your way outside.

‘Well yeah, we just became enemies - or rather traitors - of the United States of America. We know top secret information.’ Darcy screamed from the other side of the room.

‘Goddamnit! I have a cat to take care of! I hate you guys so much!’ You ran out of the hall and met Monica. ‘I should have never done this. Fuck!’ You muttered and leaned on the wall, trying to catch your breath. 

‘You can’t change it anymore. So either you move your ass in that goddamn plane and go underground for a while, or you surrender and rot in prison. You are doing the right thing (Y/N), we are proving the world Wanda wasn’t the only problem in this conflict.‘

You nodded at Rambeau’s words, somehow finding some sort of confidence in them, and the trio of you started sprinting to the flight area. Monica jumped into the pilot’s seat of the nearest aircraft, Darcy and you getting on board right after her. 

When she started the machine and you felt it hovering, you laid on a bench in the back and closed your eyes. Although you were sure you couldn’t get even a little bit of sleep due to the adrenaline floating in your veins, you hoped resting would help you process and understand today’s events a bit better. 

---

The next time you opened your eyes, the machine was flying on autopilot and your two co-performers were packing three backpacks with vital equipment such as water, preserves and knives. You straightened and rubbed your face with your hands, clearly exhausted from the previous fight. 

Darcy turned around to your bench to fetch some bandages, but when she saw you getting up, she startled and stopped her motions. ‘God! Do you always have to be so quiet and sneaky?’

‘I am an agent, what do you think?’ You rolled your eyes and stepped to help them pack the bags. ‘Or was an agent, thank you again.’

‘(Y/N)! Will you ever stop that?’ Monica snubbed you before she continued. ‘Listen. We’re now enemies of SWORD with too much information, which means we probably have to spend some time on the run. Not together though. I suggest we will split…’ she turned completely to you, ‘you have family in Romania, right? I think it’s time for a visit.’

You nodded reluctantly and threw a spare sweater in your backpack. ‘When will you drop me off? And where?’

‘There’s a little abandoned town with a lake nearby. Stay there for a bit, then go find your family. We should arrive at dawn.’ Monica stepped next to you and grabbed your hands. ‘I know this sucks, but there’s still Sam Wilson somewhere out there...he will notice something is off and before you can blink, you’re back home.’ She squeezed your hands and gave you a reassuring smile.

‘Back home with your cat!’ You heard Darcy from somewhere in the back of the aircraft and chuckled lightly despite trying to stay mad at your friend.

‘No seriously, agent, thank you for doing this. It was the right choice.’ Monica carefully let go of you and returned to the pilot seat. 

‘What a choice. I had much of it.’ You mumbled sarcastically before taking the seat next to her.

---

When the quinjet landed, you sighed shakily one last time and turned to say goodbye to the two women. 

‘Take care. I’m gonna miss you.’ Darcy hugged you tight and looped her arms over your shoulders. 

‘I’m gonna miss you, too, fangirl.’ The brunette rolled her eyes playfully at the nickname and you grinned. When she released you, the Captain stepped forward and shook your hand.

‘See you soon, Agent. Be safe!‘ 

‘Thank you, Captain.‘ You left the plane and turned around one last time. Darcy waved goodbye and you returned the gesture, while Monica already started to get ready to take off. 

You watched them fly away and began walking on the sidewalk, following a long road to Romania‘s mountains. They let you out some miles away from the remote town, just to make sure you didn‘t attract any attention. 

So, you started your journey, with no real clue where to go. You cursed angrily when it became so dark you could only see your surroundings a few feet away from you, and then it started storming, and your mood was devastated. 

Luckily, you had a flashlight with you and could somehow make it to the branch that led to the town and lake. You turned to walk along the smaller road that turned into a path through the forest after ten minutes of walking.

Blind due to the now complete darkness, you startled when you suddenly heard a lightning strike in the distance. Before you could make out in what direction the thunderstorm was, cold raindrops hit your face.

‘For fuck‘s sake!‘ You put on your jacket‘s hood and started to walk faster to find shelter. Later, you tried to orientate yourself on top of a slightly higher hill. You recognised the shades of the lake and a small cabin, and a little further the empty city. 

Happy to see your final destination and impatient to get out of the storm, you started running down the hill. You were almost in the flat again when you suddenly heard a loud crack and before you could blink twice, you plumped on the ground.

You screamed out in pain and laid still, panting. You must have slipped on the wet ground and fell, your leg hitting a stone. After trying to calm your breathing a bit, you straightened up with the help of a log and lifted the flashlight. 

With your injured leg, you wouldn‘t be able to make it to the town - you would have to circle the whole lake - and you were also in the midst of a storm, so you decided to try and get protection at the lonely wooden cabin. 

You limped to it, dragged yourself over the steps, one at a time, before you leaned against the wooden door to collect yourself. 

‘Hello? I don‘t know if someone‘s in there, and if you can understand me, but I‘m hurt and just need some first aid equipment and a shelter while the storm rages. I‘m gonna wait for a bit, otherwise I‘ll batter this door in and get in.’ You breathed out through gasps.

But before you had to make your way through that door, light switched on inside the hut and footsteps became audible. The door opened carefully and a redhead got visible, her hands in the back bags of her jeans.

‘Hi! Uhm- Do you speak English?’ You put out while trying to pantomime your words with finger motions. 

The woman giggled, and you noticed a blush creeping up on your cheeks. You cursed yourself for not paying attention to your grandma teaching you Romanian, it would have been a lot easier to just communicate in the first language of the country.

‘I do. How can I help you?’ She replied and took your figure in. Her words were bolstered by a thick accent, an accent you have heard before, and you took a closer look at her. 

‘Oh my god. You‘re Maximoff. The Scarlet Witch. You‘re Wanda Maximoff.’ You identified the woman astonished. 

Panic settled in the witch's eyes. ‘I‘m- I-’ 

‘I-’ you chuckled incredulously, ‘fuck Hayward. I‘m sorry. For everything.’ You hissed and rolled your eyes in annoyance at the thought of your ex-boss.

Wanda tried to process your words speechlessly. She has been alone for so long, and now a stranger stood at her front door, knowing exactly about everything she so badly wanted to make unhappen. 

‘No seriously. He‘s unbe-’ your gaze fell to your leg that was now in the light of the cabin, and you could see your injury. Not only was it coated in blood, you also could see a bit of bone standing out. ‘-be…liev… I think I'm gonna pass ou-’ you collapsed, but before your body hit the ground, red wisps surrounded your unconscious body and prevented you from it. 

Wanda carefully lifted you through the cabin and laid you down on the couch. She had no idea who she had now lying in her guest room, but this person must have seen through Hayward‘s ill intentions.

And she couldn‘t disregard an injured person out in the dark, could she?

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fanfiction #elizabeth olsen x you #mcu imagine

[anonymous-dentist]

So, as far as I can tell, after today all of the lovely Tripoiers are doing a complete 180. Now that he might come back with his memory all banged up, they’ve decided they no longer want qRoier to get kidnapped anymore! Which is awesome! For them! But I’m just here like… imagine the angst :D!!

Like imagine what would happen if the Federation takes qRoier and not only fumbles his memories, but completely wipes them. All the way back to when he first arrived on the island. He would’ve never experienced the Abueloier incident, Bobby and Tilin’s deaths, the taco incident, the betrayals, all of the friendships he’s made and has lost (kidnapped or no longer logs on). All the pain he’s experienced gone in an instant

Those who watch carefully will know how deeply all of this constantly affects qRoier. So just think of the emotional whiplash when the members of the island, who would be panicked about qRoiers wellbeing after the kidnapping, are seeing him being returned by the Federation… Happy? Like truly genuinely happy. Happier than the French have ever seen him. Happier than the the Brazilians have ever seen him. Hell, even some of the original members of the island have to do a double take because they’ve never realized how much qRoier’s mental state has declined since day 1

And not only that but like!! Would they try to get his memories back? Would they willingly try to reawaken the grief and pain he experienced so he can “be himself” again? Or would they let him start fresh?

I love qRoier with all my heart which means he gets the angst hammer! >:D (I’m so sorry! For the dump! I just like the way you analyze characters! And would appreciate your thoughts!!)

Now see the kicker is that q!Roier is a very good actor. He more or less behaves the exact same way he did before he started experiencing the Horrors, he just has a bit of a harder time openly trusting people. The only person who knows how sad he actually is rn is q!Bad, and that’s only because Roier had to tell him for the survey. He doesn’t care if the Feds know he’s sad, he’d probably go with them willingly if they asked to meet him alone. He’d scream and protest and go kicking and screaming if they actually tried doing something to him, but also?

The Feds love him. They always have, and even the current Cucurucho seems to have a bit of a soft spot for him. Even the ‘gods’ (read: the admins) will call down lightning on him if he asks, and they’ll revive him in dungeons he’s doing solo. They’ve been reviving him since week one without fail. The Feds allowed his grandfather- an “outsider”- onto the island and let him stay and they saved his life when q!Cellbit killed him because Roier was sad. The only things they’ve ever refused him are a gun and the return of Bobby, but even with Bobby they let him and Jaiden have more time to say goodbye than every other parent got combined. They pay special attention to his happiness- remember when Cellbit’s task for the day for them was to find out why Roier was sad and what would make him happy again? The entire point of the Quest for Bobby was for Roier to see how many friends he has because the Feds know he’s lonely! They’re just really bad at being a support system because they don’t understand the emotions going on.

They like him to the point that he’s actually questioned multiple times if he’s actually part of the Federation, and other people have asked the same, which definitely won’t ever come up again.

This is all to say: I don’t think they’d wipe his memories because he isn’t actually being a problem. Quackity was a problem. He was making other people sad, so he had to he dealt with. Meanwhile Roier is alone in his sadness, which isn’t optimal, but I think that they quite literally like him and his family too much to fuck with him on that level. They’ll punish him eventually, but their attempts to cheer him up so far have actually had some results. He isn’t trying to kill anyone anymore, and he’s happy enough with his family with Vegetta and Foolish and Leo (all the Federation’s favorites) and then with Jaiden (Cucurucho’s favorite) and then with Cellbit and Richarlyson (we all know how much the Feds love their favorite employee.) He’s domesticated (outside of his new bombing obsession), and that’s probably good enough for the Federation.

After all, the saddest people are oftentimes the happiest.

#asks! #anon! #sorry I have thoughts as well #qsmp #qsmp meta

[shejustcalledmeafish]

I’m going to make you share Ianto audio opinions now :D Sorry I know there’s like 9 million of those

Dhhdhdhd you’re all good, everyone needs to know my hot takes on their favorite blorbo that is just A Guy

Fall to Earth: Very good! The beginning of a long saga of Ianto having audios with women who are cooler than him, also he’s a dumbass and Myfanwy has insurance now

Broken: honestly, this one is overhyped in my opinion. It’s still very good, but people scream so much about it and I’m like “…poodle goo”. That said, it is a classic, content warnings for depression and suicide attempt, but it’s really doing its best to establish the janto dynamic behind s1

The Office of Never Was: this one features a darker side of Ianto which is very interesting, but also I barely remember any of the details due to me listening ages ago, but like yeah I think it’s good

The Last Beacon: PEAK GO LISTEN IMMEDIATELY, beloved romp and Ianto-Owen character dynamics

Serenity: definitely my preferred Janto audio, dumbasses in the suburbs, violence and swinging attempts and Ianto just slowly losing his mind (affectionate)

Expectant: okay so this isn’t good. I wouldn’t even necessarily say it’s fun. There’s not even that much Ianto in it. But goddamn there’s something about it, so many things that are mentioned and not explored and there are slippers and whale songs okay (also gross birth noises so be warned)

Dinner and a Show: yes very good! just a good fun romp at the opera with aliens and cheap knock-off Welsh Prosecco

Ex Machina: genuinely such an interesting concept, unreality warning heavy, but I really enjoyed it

Rhys and Ianto’s Execllent Barbecue: oh my god this is literally a masterpiece on grief and masculinity and also there’s a cool time bubble and a guinea pig, mandatory listening

Coffee: fun and painful and just like, a lot of it is kinda basic but when it hits it HITS

The Great Sontaran War: okay genuinely a pretty solid one, goss needs to stop trying to write marginalized people, but there’s a sontaran in a trailer park with a cat named Group Marshal Cat and Ianto is just trying his best, so

The Grey Mare: okay it’s not bad, but it is a pretty basic spooky tale, I heard someone describe it once as a plot that it didn’t have to be Ianto, and that’s pretty fair

Restricted Items Archive Entries 031-049: this is my personal favorite honestly, both for the almost anthology type vibe of all the entries, and because this author Gets Ianto and it’s just so fun and also a bit ouchy as it should be

SUV and The Lincolnshire Poacher: okay, haven’t heard these, but based on vibes poached from my friends, SUV is good, and Lincolnshire Poacher is slowburn Ianto whump and I mean slowburn because he doesn’t show up for a while, so don’t expect him right away, but I’m not gonna write it off

The Torchwood Archive: very good, domestic janto in the most weirdest and in character way honestly, lmao

Outbreak: YES SO GOOD, be warned for a virus plot and scratching noises, but like worth it for all of the vibes, who doesn’t want to have your boyfriend try to murder you because he loves you and your best friend mock you for your shit tie, so good

Believe: okay so his plot is probably the most interesting/best one, but overall it’s really just not that good, not really worth it

Torchwood One: god fuck you Alyssa I forgot about these, okay okay

Before the Fall: technically individual stories, but it’s really more like one big one, Rachel be girlbossing

Machines: Blind Summit is the one for Iantotent, man sorta gets supersoldiered and everyone forgets about it, I personally really like 9 to 5, the premise Bangs. Also the law machines is here, it’s okay I guess

Latter Days: Retirement Plan lets Ianto James Bond it up, Locker 15 is solid, the Rockery isn’t a Ianto story but it is my favorite from the set so 😤

Nightmares: honestly, the best set, both My Guest Tonight (not a Ianto story), and Lola are very solid, LESS MAJESTY IS FARCE AND FUCKING HILARIOUS

TLDR: honestly he doesn’t really have a Bad one, but some are better than others :3

#torchwood #big finish